Page 33 of Reclaiming His Lost Mate
Tom’s tall, impeccably styled figure strode in, exuding an effortless aura of casual confidence. A low growl of irritation stirred within me as my gaze traveled to him.
“Evening, Alexis,” he greeted me, his trademark charming smile in place. It was disarming to most—an open invitation for camaraderie—but to me, it felt like a gauntlet thrown down. “Doing a bit of shopping?”
“Yes,” I replied, forcing my voice to remain neutral as I inspected a bottle of ginger shampoo, the spicy scent wafting up to tantalize my senses. My mind raced, betraying the cool facade I tried so hard to maintain.
As I turned the bottle in my hands, Tom sidled too close, invading my personal space. “Wouldn’t you say Alexis's hair is better suited for the range for thick hair?” His voice was casual, but I felt the underlying jab, a thinly veiled taunt that ignited my simmering frustration. I caught Selina returning from the back, and as her focus shifted toward me, I noticed how the atmosphere around us tightened.
Tom’s question hung in the air, heavy and pulsing like a thundercloud about to burst. Selina's gaze darkened to a rich forest green, that unforgettable shade that sparked an upsurge of memories—the look she had worn before we kissed while in the Nightwing Pack. The intoxicating memory of how she had melted against me, her soft curves fitting perfectly against the hard planes of my body, flooded my mind.
I felt as if I could almost feel her hands running through my hair—
“Definitely thick,” Tom murmured, too close to me. I realized Tom’s fingers were running through my hair. Anger bristled through me as I remembered only a few days prior, Tom had pushed my shoulder playfully while telling me about a sparring move. Clearly a thinly veiled taunt, just like this was. One he thought he could mask behind that infuriating grin.
A surge of aggression lit a fire in my gut. I wanted to flip him onto the floor, to pin him down and see just how smug he’d be when we changed the power balance.
I stepped away from him, grabbing the ginger shampoo, my movement deliberate and firm, as if the bottle could shield me from the tension in the room. I walked to the till, placing it in front of Selina. “Just that, thank you,” I said, forcing a lightness into my tone.
Tom actually followed me to the counter, leaning beside me, and reached to Selina. “Good choice, Alexis. Selina uses the ginger one, and you can see how glossy her hair is.”
Selina’s face lit up as she laughed, a sound that both thrilled me and stung me with jealousy. “Stop it, Tom,” she said, her playful tone filled with warmth. She batted him away lightly. “Alexis doesn’t need a sales pitch.” I noticed the way her eyes sparkled for him and how my chest squeezed. “Go make yourself useful and sort the last of those herbs through there, won’t you?”
I wished desperately that I could be the one to elicit that joy from her—to have her look at me with that same glimmer.
Even as Tom dropped the strand of Selina’s hair, my own jealousy sparked, fierce and unrelenting. My wolf stirred, a primal urge clawing at my insides, desperate to put this usurper in his place. But I knew Selina valued her friendship with Tom, and I didn’t want to rock the boat. Still, the throbbing ache in my chest deepened.
“See you later, Alexis,” Tom said, flashing a smirk as he pivoted to disappear into the kitchen behind the counter.
My mind raced with trying to decipher their interactions. Was it just friendship between them? Was she sending him away because she knew he was getting territorial around me? Did it show that she was protective of him?
I scowled as I waited for her to ring up my purchase on the till, hating that this was how my impromptu visit had turned out. This man was intentionally pushing my boundaries, all while rubbing his closeness to Selina in my face.
In the falling evening light, I couldn’t help admiring Selina’s golden hair. It did look extra glossy. Her skin was so smooth and soft looking, too, as if all the beauty products in this store had graced it. But I knew that all of it was her natural beauty, recalling how, even back in the Nightwing Pack, she hadn’t worn heavy makeup. She hadn’t needed to. She was absolutely stunning just as she was.
“Mia all kitted up for tonight?” I asked, turning the conversation to our daughter, hoping it might soothe the roiling emotions within.
At the mention of Mia, Selina’s face lit up with joy, an entirely different light erupting in her eyes. “Uh-huh! She slept in her Little Miss sleeping bag last night as a rehearsal.” The enthusiasm in her voice melted my tension, and I couldn’t help but smile.
Mia’s school was having a special sleepover that evening centered around a study of the night sky. Thoughts of our daughter filled me with warmth, and I felt the earlier shadows of jealousy begin to lift.
“Thanks for this,” I said, accepting the brown bag Selina passed me, savoring the way her fingers brushed against mine, igniting a spark that traveled straight to my heart.
“You’re welcome.” She smiled, her gaze suddenly flitting back, and I found myself longing to understand the elusive emotions swirling between us. But in the next moment, she hastily added, “I better go help Tom.”
My chest tightened, and I nodded brusquely, a scowl creasing my features. Our brief connection was severed just like that. Selina had made it amply clear how much she valued her friendship with Tom, and while I respected that, it didn't mean I had to like it. And staying here any longer to witness it was like my own personal hell.
Exiting the shop, I swung past my apartment, dropping off my purchases. I took off the cap, giving it a sniff before leaving it in the shower, ready to use tomorrow. Everything she made was with care, and I felt a peel of contentment go through me as I imagined using the spicy clove and ginger shampoo, knowing it would make me think of her.
Needing to cool my fraying nerves, I slipped into Matsuna’s sole café—an intimate little spot named The Wandering Brew. The atmosphere buzzed softly as I approached the counter. The aroma of coffee and freshly baked pastries enveloped me.
When I caught sight of Lyvia seated at a table, her amber eyes glimmering with mischief, she waved me over. “I’ll have it to stay, thanks,” I told the waitress as I joined her.
"What brings you out this fine evening?” Lyvia asked, a knowing sparkle in her gaze.
“Just needed a change of scenery,” I replied, although the truth clenched at my throat—a truth I was desperately wrestling with. “How about you?”
Her laughter tinkled like wind chimes in the breeze. “This is a usual haunt for me. I write some of my best spells here—the buzz helps.”
Matsuna's "buzz" consisted of about six people scattered around, including the waitress, Hannah, and Phil from the hardware store two doors down, whose occasional chuckle broke the lull.
