Page 28 of Alpha's Twins
Our breaths are ragged, and I hold her against me, feeling the last of my tension melt away, the heat of her skin, and the wild beat of her heart.
My wolf whispers, she’s mine.
Chapter 15 - Serena
The garden is alive, wild, and breathing, and I can’t believe it’s mine. I can’t help but smile. I did this. Despite the chaos, despite everything, I made this happen.
It may not earn money like my store did, or win any awards. But it feels tangible and somehow better.
I stand in the middle of it all holding my morning coffee, the early sunlight casting a soft glow over the riot of colors, and I remember how bare it was when I first arrived. Now, the yard looks like something out of a dream, a cottage garden bursting with life. Foxgloves and hollyhocks tower over beds of lupines and daisies, their blooms swaying gently in the breeze. Sweet peas climb up makeshift trellises, their tendrils curling around anything they can reach, and the scent of lavender and roses fills the air, intoxicating and sweet.
I walk along the gravel path that Aiden laid, the crunch underfoot grounding me, and I reach out to touch the petals as I pass, feeling their delicate softness under my fingers. It’s like I’m in my own little world here, a world I’ve created, and despite everything else, it feels good. It feels right.
I think of Aiden, of how he looked at me last night, his eyes dark and wanting. My cheeks flush at the memory of his hands on me, his mouth on me, the way he took me like he couldn’t get enough. There’s a wildness to him, a passion that I didn’t expect. Or at least, a passion I never thought would be directed at someone like me.
I’ve always known the way other shifters look at me, the way they see my lack of wolf and curves, and dismiss me as less-than. I’d grown accustomed to it and was even expecting it with Aiden at first. But the way he wants me, the way he acts like hecan’t get enough, makes me believe that maybe I’m wrong—that maybe Emily was right, and he does really want me.
I push a loose strand of hair behind my ear, trying to calm the rush of hope that I know is dangerous. Aiden is everything I didn’t even know I wanted, and that’s what scares me the most. I’m terrified that it’s not real, that I’ll let myself believe it and end up losing him. What if he’s just sleeping with me because I’m here—I’m his official mate, after all—and I’m convenient? But that won’t stop him from wanting other women, too, will it?
I think of the way he looks when he’s with his pack. He’s so sure of himself, so fiercely in control. A true alpha. I worry that I’m just a novelty that’ll wear off when he realizes I’m not like the others and never will be. I can’t run with him, can’t shift, and be part of that world.
I’m not sure I’ll ever really belong here, not without a wolf. Not looking the way I do.
The thought is a bitter seed, one that I can’t seem to stop from growing. I look around the garden, at the wild beauty of it, and I wish I could feel at home beyond the boundary of this creation. However lovely it is.
I take a sip of my coffee, the warmth spreading through me, but there’s a strange sensation that follows, a rush of nausea and dizziness beneath the heat. I pause, trying to shake it off, but the feeling lingers, and I reach out to steady myself against the tall stalk of a delphinium. As soon as my fingers brush the leaves, the world around me seems to explode.
The flowers seem to surge to life in an uncontrollable rush of color and movement. I watch, stunned, as the garden transforms before my eyes, overflowing with magic. Vines twist and stretch, climbing the fence, tangling together in a frenzy of growth, and the blooms swell beyond anything natural, vibrant,and wild. It’s like the entire garden has been electrified, the plants growing at an impossible rate, and I didn’t even mean to use my magic.
I step back, my heart racing, and try to catch my breath. The flowers are out of control, spilling over the path and creeping up the sides of the house. My coffee slips from my hand, and I reach for it, but the cup is already buried beneath a layer of sweet peas and ivy. I stand there, frozen, as the chaos unfolds, swallowing the beauty I’d found so comforting only moments ago.
“Hello?” Emily’s voice calls from the gate, and I spin around, startled. She and Marian are standing a few feet away at the entrance, wearing matching expressions of confusion and amusement.
“Are we interrupting, dear?” Marian chuckles. “You’ve got a head start today, it seems.”
The distraction seems to do the trick, and the growth of the flowers slows. Looking around, though, the damage is done. The garden is a mess. I cringe as the women walk toward me, carefully climbing over some of the larger roots that have all but burst from the ground.
“Impressive,” Emily says. There’s laughter in her voice, but I can’t tell if she’s impressed or concerned.
“I didn’t mean to,” I say, my voice shaky. “I wasn’t even trying this time.”
Marian’s eyes are bright as she surveys the tangled mess. “You should see the look on your face,” she says, her laughter warm. “It’s quite entertaining.”
I try to smile, but it feels brittle. “It’s too much,” I confess, the defeat thick in my voice. “I can’t control it.”
She waves a hand, dismissing my worry. “Nonsense. It’s just a matter of practice. You’ll learn.”
Emily steps forward, touching my arm. “Let’s tidy up a bit, and then we can practice. We can help.”
I nod, but the thought of another outburst like this makes my stomach clench. We get to work tidying up some of the mess, and as the morning wears on, I put another pot of coffee on but decide not to have any myself, not after what happened last time I took a sip of my favorite blend.
Back outside, I kneel near a cluster of daisies, my hands trembling as I reach toward them. “Okay,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. “Here goes.”
I close my eyes, feeling the familiar hum of magic, but this time it feels different, an uneven surge that’s hard to hold onto. My heart pounds, and I try to steady my breath, but the energy slips from my fingers and the daisies all but explode. They don’t even grow or bloom prettily. The petals simply start popping.
“Oh my,” Marian says, peering closer. “That’s not ideal.”
I look at her, fighting the wave of frustration. “Tell me about it.” The words come out sharper than I intend, and I feel a pang of guilt. “Sorry,” I add quickly, “I just don’t know what’s going on.”
