Taking a few steps toward me, he hands me the fresh-smelling infant so I can feed once again and rock him to a calming, deep sleep until the next feeding is needed. He might be only eight pounds, but this male rules with his iron fist with his constant needs that have to be met.
“Why did you shave his head? There wasn’t even hardly any hair there,” I ask while rubbing the head of my pup.
“It’s my responsibility to shave all my males’ heads until they can do it themselves. It’s how we do things here. It’s always been done,” Dallas explains.
Once Chance is put down next to me in his crib, the need to rest is overwhelming. Getting into bed, Dallas follows behind me. Holding me in his arms until it’s time to feed the crying pup again, only two hours between feedings does things to your mind when all you want is a full night’s sleep. Dallas is helping out, changing him, bringing him to me.
This routine is night after night. For Dallas’s part, he doesn’t look too phased by the lack of sleep, where any chance I get, I need a nap during the day. Asking him once, he said his medical residency was way more demanding than his little buddy.
By the end of the week, we get invited to Caleb’s house for dinner.
Coming up the drive, no longer are there dead limbs of trees littering the driveway. Everything has been cleaned up and trimmed down. It must look the way it has always been supposed to look. A strongly built house that holds life inside its walls. All the cracks in the driveway’s cement have had the growing trees pulled out. Nothing is living in those spaces anymore.
There are no spider webs in the window, no dust or grime covering the glass. This house has been cleaned to a sparkling new.
The three of us stand at the front door of Dallas’s old home. He’s got Chance in his arms. I can hear the echoing of laughter from inside; the place feels lively.
“Are you ready to go inside?” My words are spoken to Dallas with concern. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for him. He hasn’t been here since her death.
“I’m ready, Rya.” Knocking on the door, Caleb answers with a big welcome smile on his face.
He takes Chance from Dallas’s arms, cradling him carefully. My wolf now feels very comfortable with him handling him.
The walls are painted fresh, new pictures up. Dallas is handing Caleb a present for his walls. It’s a blown-up picture of Caleb in fur form tied to a post looking utterly shameful. My eyes watered when Dallas showed me the gift; I brought him a plant. It’s a money tree, a representation of good fortune for the future.
There holds no past presence that prickles my skin or raises the hair on my arms. Nothing remains inside this home but what is here now. Turning to Dallas, he’s looking at every corner, every wall; there is no sadness in his eyes. He’s just looking at what Caleb has done with the place, his old place.
Looking at Dallas, his eyes find mine, and what I’m seeing is that I am his new place now.
Chapter 28
A Choice
Six months later
A fairy tale ending is what I have always wanted since I was a little pup, the prince on his white horse sweeping me off my feet, riding off into the sunset, happily ever after.
I’m not the Cinderella of my stories past.
I’m not perfect, I’m not a princess, but I am loved like a fairytale ending. He is my ending. He’s not perfect, but for me, he is.
We have created our own fairytale, our own personal hand-holding walk into the sunset.
He’s not a prince on a white horse, no knight in shining armor, but he is my end of the story.
My final page.
The beginning of my story was about love and security in my pup years. It’s my summer years filled with abundance.
A harvest of a promised life.
A bountiful future.
As my pages turned one after the other, a darkness starts to descend over who I thought I was.
From light, there will be darkness.
Anguish, heartache, unbearable pain that I thought would be the rest of my story.
It taught me how hard love is, how hard I was to be loved by someone made just for me. Someone who didn’t want to take a chance on me.
It showed me I was not special. This was my Autumn years.
The thinning of a soul, the decay of a life. Slowly eroding who I was, until I was just a shell that was breathing, just barely breathing.
As with life, my pages keep flipping, moving forward, my winter years filled with gut-wrenching sorrow. There is no love. Never will I love or be loved. That’s what my story was teaching me in my winter years.
Love is nothing but a barren wasteland.
It made me think that I was unlovable, that I was wrong in some way.
He destroyed my soul. Somewhere along the way, the Moon took pity on me for some unknown reason and granted me with a gift.
My gift was never used. How could I when all I have ever known was that I am not good enough?
That what I have to offer someone was nothing anyone wanted.
I’m defective in some way.
Again my fairytale story keeps turning, spring arriving filled with fresh growth, new beginnings, and I meet him, my prince, but he’s disguised. I never really gave him a true chance because I was blinded by my own history to really consider myself worthy enough. All those years of thinking myself unworthy, that love is a terrible thing, really destroyed my perspective on how things should be.
Every step of the way, my prince challenged me, made me feel things that I have never felt before.
Good and bad.
He was able to give me my firsts, breathe life back into me.
Without him, I would never have my beautiful Chance.
As the final page glares blank in my face, it’s my choice to start a life that has been given to me. I just need to take that chance that I am making the right decision.
In my heart, I know that this is what I want, this is what I need, and this is just the beginning to my happy ending.
I walk down the path on my own, looking into the guests’ eyes. My family comes into view, my father, mother, sisters, and their mates all present.
“I love you, Rya.” My father’s whispers hit my ears as my steps slightly falter. My mother has her emotions dripping out of her eyes.
Those are tears of great happiness.
The little female pups are looking at me like I’m a princess dressed up in red, made up just for this day. I think in their minds they want to look like me on their special day.
“A real princess,” a little one whispers to her mother, pointing at me in awe.
It’s the last time I will wear red. No more will I show my availability. I’m completely taken.
Luna Grace has outdone herself with the planning, the decorations, the music.
Everything is magical…the final scene in the romance movies.
The tiki torches light our path, casting soft dancing shadows in the tree line. The moon creates a soft glimmering glow of light from her full body.
Even she is watching on.
All eyes are on us. The whole pack is gathered, including my family; they said they wouldn’t miss this for the world.
Dallas is standing there, eyes only for me. They blaze with the intensity of his love.
The corner of his mouth trembles slightly, but he tries not to show it, standing strong and proud.
My iron.
We decided to have our mating ceremony where we will build our home together. He will do the outside, and I get to have the inside, a combination of visions.
He gives me a look, and I know exactly what he’s thinking, not because I can read his mind yet, but because I know who he is.
His hands reach out to mine as I clasp them, entwining our fingers together.
Since he has marked me, I am the one to do all the talking. I am the one to show everyone gathered here that this is my choice to make.
His family takes the front row. They will witness it all.<
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Looking into his eyes, I begin.
“You are mine.” I am the one to take a step toward him. His breath is coming out faster, eyes dilating.
“You are my hope.” Another little step. I can feel the heat of his body saturating into me. His fingers brushing over my knuckles.
I think I hear Luna Grace crying softly. I don’t look because all I can focus on is Dallas.
“My love.” Chests press against each other. Visible shakes of his body with the contact. He can’t hide that the bond strumming so strong in his system that every night he has to mark me over and over again as we make love like new lovers over and over again.
“My light.” I smile. No truer words have I spoken.
“My weakness.” He wraps his arms around my waist, picking me up so I am slightly taller than him in just this minute.
Can he feel my heartbeat pounding in his chest? Because I feel his.
“My strength.” I pull my face away from his slightly so he can see my teeth that will mark him. A shiver so faint that I almost miss it shifts his spine.
Putting my mouth on his neck, I pick the spot that will bear my love. It’s a quick strike that takes him off guard slightly. It’s a deep mark, a growl rumbling from my whole body as I lay my claim to him.
Somewhere deep inside me, I feel it, the tide of him rushing inside me, pushing out the hold that Clayton had with extreme force.
I can now start to see his layers, deep and complex. This male is everything I think he is.
The bond between us is finally completed. A gasp from his mouth, now my body is on fire.
Volts of highly charged electricity pulsates between us, jumping the gap into each other’s body. It stirs a deep ache inside me that only he can fill.
Shock waves.
The energy is alive between our bodies.
Soul touching.
With no hesitation, he grabs my face in his hands and kisses me with a passion that romance stories are made from. It’s deep, powerful, full of his need for me.
Clapping and shouts of encouragement are heard, but they sound far away because in this moment all I can feel is him.
We feel complete.
We are our truest selves.
I love you. That’s what he’s saying to me inside my head, and I say it back.
I love you.
Out loud, he says, “Go, I’ll find you. Give me a good chase, because when I find you…” He doesn’t have to say anything else because I know what he wants to do when he catches me.
With a leap into the air, fur replaces flesh, and I run into the night for him to come after me.
It excites me to have my male chase me into the night.
I won’t make it easy, I’ll give him a good chase, but eventually, he will find me because that’s who he is.
So begins the first pages of our romance book.
Standing at the top of the stairs looking down, it’s funny how at certain times in your life you can take the stairs fast and furious, slow and thoughtful, you can trip and stumble, but in all of us, you still climb up them to get to the top.
Conversations fills the air with smart, challenging banter, the sea of voices all friendly and loving to one another.
Voices getting weaker, dying down as we approach.
A breakfast morning greets me full of pancakes, French toast with pure maple syrup, bacon, eggs, oatmeal with brown sugar and milk. Orange juice, tea, and coffee.
This is the Luna’s morning love for her family, a feast of food.
Everyone’s sitting at the heart of the home, and two chairs are saved for us to take our places at the family table.
Prologue
Blue Memories
Cassius
A trace of fresh paint still clings to the walls.
Kennedy sits in the rocker with her back to me.
“It’s finished.” The words are blown out slowly from her chest—she continues to rock with her head resting on the back of the chair, looking at the mural she painted of me as the leader wolf of a made-up pack.
“Do you need anything? I was going to make something to eat.”
She silently shakes her head no.
Walking towards her, there’s a hesitation before I place a hand on her shoulders—she flinches.
Not once did she ever recoil from him.
Concentrating on biting my tongue, I hold my thoughts from her. I focus on the silhouette of two people holding hands walking into the evening sun.
“What’s that?” Walking to the image, I point a finger at the drawing.
“A dream,” she murmurs without looking into my eyes.
“Here.” I stretch my hand for her to take the cup of tea. “I put fresh mint in it.”
She doesn’t glance at me when she takes the first sip, only at the dream where my finger was at.
Do I want to scream what dream? Is it him or me? I choose to swallow down the scream and walk away.
“I’m sorry, Cassius.” Her voice hits me softly before I step out of the room.
“Why are you sorry, Kennedy?”
“That I’m not what you wanted for a mate.” Her voice seems flat.
Dust filters through the air from the partially open blinds. Everything feels covered in something thick and heavy.
“You’re what I wanted—it was him that I didn’t expect to have with us.” Her shoulders sag into the wooden rocking chair, body slumping.
I can feel her ache—I can feel my own ache.
Love is a cruelty that aches us in all directions—except together.
Kennedy stands slowly, arching her back before righting herself on thin legs—her collarbone juts out sharply. She’s all skin that’s stretched tight over bones. Dark shadows swallow the color of her eyes.
Dry, cracked lips press together without a smile. Mine press together, tight and unforgiving.
This is in-between. No words uttered, but we both need to scream. I can feel her voice raging within her chest, and I can feel mine trying to come out as hard as the earlier days with her.
“Are you ready to go?”
“I’m ready.” She looks around the room, verifying that the cribs have been set up. The mural consumes every inch of space on the walls from ceiling to baseboards.
A sound escapes through her hard-pressed lips. A small cry.
“I’m afraid.” Her hands go over the futures that are nesting inside her. A boy, a girl.
“You’re going to be fine. They will be fine. We are going to be fine.” She doesn’t flinch this time when my hands go on either side of her shoulders. I do it slowly, cautiously. Her chin tilts up, and I get to see her up close. I want to kiss her. I don’t.
“You’re going to be a good father.” Her fingertips press into the base of my spine.
“You’re going to be a good mother.”
Her lips press harder together, and her lids close. Not opening up. A tear escapes, along with a sob from a chest that is aching.
“Cassius—” She gives a deep pause.
“Yes, Kennedy.”
“I want you to be happy if something happens to me. I want you to be happy and live a good life.”
“Nothing will happen to you.” I press my forehead to hers. “I’m happy.”
“No, you’re not. Neither am I. We both know it. We can’t lie to each other. There is no more time for lies between us.” Her sound is raw with undigested truthfulness; it breaks with its final note.
It’s my turn to blink without opening my eyes back up. The smell of warm mint is on her breath.
There is no more time for silence; only our sound should be heard between the both of us.
“I’m not happy, not yet. I will be. I know it. We need time, Kennedy.” Insatiable, the way the sound of silence is eaten away by rough words.
“I could have loved you, Cassius. I want you to know that.”
“You still can,” I beg her. The feeling of a knife blade skewers into the next beat of my heart, sharp, cruel
. I grit my teeth against the pain.
“I can love you, Kennedy. I want you to know that. I want you to know that it’s not too late for us. It’s not over for us. We have our lives ahead of us. I can love you better than him. I know it.” Peeling my own skin back, I expose myself to her in a clean cut.
“I know you could.” The palm of her hand touches my cheek; our foreheads press harder together. We breathe together.
I want to kiss those pale lips and ghost-filled eyes. I want to show her real passion, real dedication. I want my name to coat her mouth. I want to show her everything all at once. I want, want, want…yet she doesn’t hunger for my wants. It’s more her sacrifice to love me. She’s sacrificing her dreams, desires, for me.
I don’t want to be her sacrifice.
“I was thinking after the twins are born, you could go to that art school you always wanted to go to. We could rent an apartment. Live in the city until you’re done with school.”
A brutal cry comes from deep in her chest. Her hand grips my neck harder. Not enough to leave bruises, she doesn’t have that strength anymore.
A shallow breath in from her chest.
I’m clutching to hope.
Her eyes open wider, the widest I’ve ever seen them.
“You would do that?” A gnaw on her bottom lip. She’s thinking. I love to watch her think when it comes to us.
“We would do that.” Letting her know it’s we. Life sparks up. Her eyes start to shine again, only briefly, before the fade returns. She smiles, but the curve of her lips drops at the edges.
Mint is breathed out slowly.
“I would like that.”
“Me too.” I’m smiling.
She shifts on her feet. “We should go.” A grimace burrows deeper into the lines around her eyes.
“In the top drawer, there’s a box for you, Cassius.”
The Wildflower Series Page 52