Alpha Vampire Romance: Vampire’s Mate (Paranormal Shapeshifter Alpha Demon Vampire Romance) (Coming of Age Werewolf BBW Shifter Women’s Fiction Short Stories)

by Rebecca Abbott

  Pacing back and forth, she began to bite her nails while asking herself if the game she had picked out would be any fun. Would they appreciate the prizes or would they think they were too corny? Would Leila be back with the remaining party favors on time? Would her friends be arriving on time? Would they have preferred she have the party outside in this nice June weather?

  “Gina.” Her mother’s strong voice called her away from her thoughts. “Can you go check on that cake in the oven?”

  As of late, she had been prone to these trains of thought that fell into cataclysmic spirals of despair. It was one of the reasons that her baby shower had taken so long to plan. Gina had insisted that she wanted to plan it herself along with Leila, but her anxiety kept her full of excuses to postpone. However, Leila had reached out to her mother and she had promptly taken over the affair so as to assure her daughter would not be depriving herself of the traditional party.

  “Hey, ladies,” Leila announced as she entered the through the front door, her arms laden with all of the last minute supplies Gina’s mother had sent her to fetch. She carried the shopping bags into the kitchen and the three women worked together to put everything where it needed to go.

  They popped open bags of little plastic figurines and cheap tablecloths. Leila sprinkled the festive confetti over the covered tables with enthusiasm and set up the prizes that their friends would be competing for.

  “When did you last check your registry?” Leila asked idly as they puttered about the house waiting for the guests to begin arriving.

  “Earlier this morning,” Gina answered. “Why?”

  “Oh nothing,” Leila said coyly as she rearranged the bowls of nuts and candies for the fifteenth time, “just that I’m probably the best sister-in-law ever, and my nephew is going to be the most stylin’ baby around.”

  Gina smiled. Although Leila didn’t have any kids of her own, she had been an infinite font of knowledge for all of her questions about having a werewolf baby, and what she wasn’t able to answer she directed to the pack shaman. Still, both Leila and the pack shaman had cautioned Gina that her little mixed-breed could be a whole different kind of kid, and they shouldn’t expect him to behave just as any other little were-baby would.

  After the party died down Leila sat with Gina and helped her write out thank you notes for all of the gifts she had received. The shower had been a lot of fun, and Gina had enjoyed watching all of her friends, both human and werewolf, get together and have a good time playing trivia and other games like the ‘Diaper Changing Olympics’.

  Rafe arrived home and carefully picked his way across the living room full of presents to kiss Gina. “How was the shower?”

  “Good,” she answered. “Tanya and her husband got something for you.”

  She held up a pacifier with a large mustache attached to it.

  “Awesome.” Rafe took it from her and jokingly stuck it in his mouth.

  Gina and Leila burst out laughing.

  “Told you he’d do it,” Gina said.

  The trio goofed off for a while before Leila excused herself to go get ready for the pack run that night. She hugged Gina and promised her extended womb that he’d get to join her soon enough for a run.

  After closing the door behind Leila, Rafe pulled Gina close and kissed the top of her head as she rested it against his chest. “Did you have fun today?”

  “Yes,” she answered, “but I’m certainly worn out. How was your day?”

  “Same as always,” he said. “Just a bunch of bureaucratic nonsense and people who talk too much about nothing.”

  Rafe walked Gina back to the couch and sat down with her as she continued to go through the gifts and write the thank you notes. He’d joke about items and pretend he had no clue what they were for.

  “Don’t you need to get ready to go for your run tonight?” Gina asked when she noticed that the sun had already gone down.

  “Well, I suppose so,” Rafe shrugged. He rubbed a hand over her belly and asked, “You sure Junior doesn’t want to go running too?”

  Gina laughed, “Not while he’s still inside of me.”

  “Good point.” Rafe kissed her deeply and then kissed the top of her belly. “I shouldn’t be too long tonight. You going to be up when I get home?”

  “Most likely,” she answered as she got up to walk to the door with him. “This little tyke is always up when you go running.”

  Rafe laughed. “That’s my boy.”

  *****

  Gina sat in the dining room with the patio door open. In the distance, she could hear the howls of the pack as they congregated in the woods a few miles outside of town. The cool night air was welcoming and the chirruping of the crickets soothing.

  Gina read aloud to herself and the baby from a book of Brother’s Grimm Fairy Tales. She had just finished reading Bremen Town Musicians when her baby began to kick and move around quite animatedly.

  Taking a deep breath, Gina placed the book on the dining room table and stood. He was always active on nights when the pack went for a run, but tonight he was especially excited. She headed to the kitchen to make herself a cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows to appease her craving.

  As she sat back down in her chair, a sound from the living room caught Gina’s attention. She stretched her neck to look around the doorway, but couldn’t see anything.

  “Rafe?”

  There was no answer and so she picked up her book again as she sipped her hot chocolate. She flipped through the pages looking for the next story to read when she heard the distinct breaking of glass.

  “Hello?” Gina stood and headed over towards the kitchen as a shadow moved across the doorway. She quietly slid the utensil drawer open as she called out, “Who’s there?”

  A figured appeared in the living room doorway. It was Blake.

  She was dressed all in black, her tangled brown hair suggested she had been with the pack at the run, but had separated from them to come here. Gina felt the handle of a steak knife in her hand and held it steadily behind her back.

  “That mutt in you is an abomination,” Blake spat at her. “Rafe should have never gotten involved with you.”

  “Well that’s your opinion,” Gina responded, “and you’re certainly entitled to it, but it’s not going to change anything.”

  “True, but since he clearly can’t be reasoned with, there are other ways to remedy the situation.”

  Blake’s hand began to vibrate as she began to shift and claws extended out of her fingers. Gina gripped the knife in her hand and took a defensive position. Outside she heard a chorus of howls much closer to her house than was comfortable. She could not discern whom it was letting out the call and assumed from Blake’s lack of reaction that it was not anyone who was going to protect her.

  Letting out a growl, Blake stalked towards her and Gina positioned herself so that the kitchen island was between them. In her womb, she felt her baby fidgeting nervously as if he could sense the danger that he was in.

  Taking a breath, Gina calmed her nerves and told herself that she wasn’t defenseless. She may not be a werewolf, but she was not about to roll over for one either.

  Blake let out a yell and charged. As she leaped onto the top of the countertop between them she shifted completely into her wolf form.

  Gina held up her left arm as the wolf sprang at her and slashed out with the knife in her right hand as she felt the teeth sink into her arm. She fought on pure instinct as she felt the claws tear into her. Her passive ways had completely disappeared in that moment and all she felt was the need to kill Blake to protect herself and her child.

  A sudden crash through the patio door interrupted the fight and Gina turned in expectation of fighting off another assailant. Instead, the small group of wolves who had come through the door attacked Blake.

  Gina stood still as she processed what was happening. Among the tumble of fur and teeth she recognized the black tipped ears of Rafe in his wolf form. She felt the drop in her adre
naline and suddenly realized that she was slick with blood.

  Just as the nausea set in, she felt a pair of strong arms around her and Rafe’s voice in her ear. She couldn’t make out what he was saying, but as she looked down at herself she recognized the deep tears in her own body. Her breathing was shallow as the edges of her vision dimmed. She could barely feel the kicking of her baby as she closed her eyes.

  ***

  The beeping of machines greeted Gina when she opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was Rafe slumped over in a chair, his head resting on the bed next to her. After a moment she recognized that it was a hospital bed that she was laying in. The beeping machines she heard were hooked up to herself.

  As she tried to move, she woke up Rafe. He momentarily looked around the room as he tried to discern what was going on. When his eyes locked onto hers, he sprang up from the chair and his lips were upon hers.

  “Gina, I-I thought-” He fumbled as he tried to find the words to say.

  She ignored the aches of her body, glad to feel his arms around her. As his body pressed against hers, she noticed that there was something missing from herself. She breathed deeply and tried to speak. “Rafe…the baby.”

  He released her and just then the door of the room opened and Leila and a nurse walked in together. A smile lit up Leila’s face. “Oh, you’re awake.”

  In her arms she carried a small bundle of cloth. Beaming, she brought the bundle over to the couple and passed it off to Gina.

  Rafe kissed the top of her head. “Gina, meet our son.”

  The breath caught in her throat as she looked at the tiny face of her son, alive and well in her arms. She smiled as the tears streamed down her cheeks. Here they both were, strong and healthy.

  “I know we hadn’t quite decided on a name yet,” Rafe said. “We thought we’d wait for you to wake up.”

  Gina kissed her son’s forehead. “Aiden.”

  THE END

  Bonus Story 25 of 25

  Mated By The Vampires

  The lights are flashing wildly.

  Jostling bodies surround me, and my head is a woozy mess. I sway with the crowd, my head lolling around on my neck, which feels like loose rubber. My eyelids droop down.

  There’s music pounding through the air. I can’t place the song but the vibrations from the huge speakers at the head of the dance floor penetrate my very bones. With every pound of the bass my heart shudders and my breath catches in my chest.

  I lost count of how many drinks I’d downed nearly an hour ago. Shot after shot I put back, beckoning the bartender back for more over and over again. Strange men had surrounded me, whooping and cheering me on in their own drunken stupors. Eventually the bartender cut me off and I stumbled away from the counter and into the mass of people.

  A body brushes up against me, closer than normal. I turn my face and see a man smiling down at me, his features a haze before my eyes. He holds out something to me, nodding and smirking.

  A small pill lies in the center of his palm. I grin up at him and snatch it up, slipping it into my mouth. I let it rest on my tongue, opening my mouth wide so he can see it resting there before I swallow it dry.

  It takes mere minutes for me to feel it. I’ve no idea what I’ve just taken, but I couldn’t care less. The lights are dancing around me, swirling and taking on the brightest hues I’ve ever seen.

  The man is behind me now, resting his hands on the sides of my hips and pushing my backside against him. We sway together to the music and I stare up at the lights in awe, my head lolling back against his chest. He starts to kiss my neck but I hardly notice.

  I haven’t noticed the way a man touched me in nearly a year. Now it’s nothing but pressure against my skin, eliciting no special or exciting sensation. I’ve hardly felt a thing in twelve months, waking up in the morning and going through my daily and mindless routine before returning to a blissful sleep in the evening. And then I repeat.

  The weekends are something different, though. I look forward to them. If I’m feeling bad during the week, having a worse day than normal, I simply turn my mind towards thoughts of the weekend and my plans.

  Friday, Saturday, and sometimes even Sunday nights are spent at whatever club I can get into. It’s not difficult for me, I’m an attractive woman. My black hair falls in waves nearly down to my waist and my brown eyes are large and inviting. I have pouty, pink lips and I know how to do my makeup just right. I perfected the smoky eyes long ago, and am an expert at applying lipstick. I have what most refer to as an “hourglass figure”, and I quite the fan of short skirts.

  I’m a good-looking woman. I’m not afraid to admit that. I get into clubs and a man usually latches onto me within minutes. But I don’t feel anything anymore. It’s fun, dancing and making out and sometimes finding a more private setting to fool around. But it’s meaningless and that's how I like it.

  There are moments, after a weekend of partying and staying up until all hours of the morning, high and drunk and barely conscious, that I think about what I’m doing and I cringe. I want more than this, but I don’t know how to get it. I’ve lost every friend I’ve ever had in this past year. Too much drinking, too much partying, too many drugs. Not enough feeling. I hardly speak to my parents and they stopped trying to contact me a long time ago.

  I’m thinking too much, now. Despite the chemicals racing through my veins, visions of his face are coming to mind. His twinkling blue eyes, the stupid beard across his chin that he refused to trim. The tattoos along his arms and chest, and the way I would trace their lines across his skin as I lay beside him in bed, our legs entwined beneath the sheets.

  I shake my head viciously, knowing if I dwell in the land of memories too long, I’ll lose my mind. I focus with all my might on the man latched onto my skin and the sensations bombarding me from my high.

  I heard about this club a few weeks ago. I was talking with some people at another club, and they mentioned a place I’d never been. There were rumors of a strange man that shows up and whisks women away. Those women always come back ranting about the best experience they’d ever had, an unimaginable new high that left them shaking and craving for more. Something so incredibly strong and unexperienced.

  As soon as I heard about it, I knew I wanted it. If I can’t get out of this depression, I want more and more drugs. I want more highs and more feelings, I want to dance all night with the lights and stars swirling in my eyes and passion flowing flooding my veins and synapses.

  I need more. I always, always need more.

  Before long, I grow tired of the man dancing on me. He doesn’t know how to move very well, and I can’t tell if that’s just because he’s so drunk. He hasn’t tried to truly kiss me yet, instead he’s just slobbering all over my neck and trying to move his hands down towards my panties.

  I extricate myself from his arms, eliciting an annoyed grunt from him. He attempts to grab my arm and pull me back towards him, but I swing around with rage shining in my eyes and raise my hand to smack his arm. He stares at me before shrugging and turning away, disappearing into the crowd.

  Men here can get a little handsy, I learned that long ago. I scan the crowd for him for a few moments before turning away and making my way through the mass of gyrating bodies. I don’t know where I’m going, all I know is that I want to find this strange and alluring man everyone was speaking of.

  I’m beginning to lose hope when I see him. I’ve reached the outskirts of the crowd, sweaty and disheveled and barely managing to keep my balance with all the sensations still bombarding me. I look up, eyes hooded, and lock gazes.

  A man is leaning against the bar, twenty feet in front of me. His elbows are propped up on its surface and he lounges backward. I can already see from here his broad shoulder and strong arms. His button-down shirt is rolled up to the elbows, and I can see the tense muscles of his forearms.

  I can’t make out the precise features of his face in the darkness of the club, but I can feel the intensity of his gaze
on me. Every so often as the lights flash above me I see them bounce off his eyes. He’s staring directly at me.

  I know it’s him. It has to be the man they were speaking of. He exudes this fascinating presence, it’s like an anchor—powerful and strong and keeping the entire place grounded. I stare at him in utter bafflement for a moment before stepping forward, nearly stumbling. Then I take another step and another, and soon I’m standing before him.

  He has short, close-cropped black hair. It’s tight and curly, and he has deep brown eyes. His skin is a few shades darker than mine, a rich chestnut color. He regards me carefully, eyes roving up and down my body before locking again with my eyes.

  “Come dance with me,” I say, my voice coming out breathless. I haven’t the presence of mind to be embarrassed, I can think of nothing but the feel of his body against mine and my lips molding with his.

  The man doesn’t say a word, but steps away from the bar, grabbing my hand and dragging me back into the crowd with him. He turns around and pulls me close to him, one hand snaking down my back. His lips crash against mine.

  I lose myself in him. My senses seem heightened all of a sudden, though the only things they are heightened to is him. The rest of the room falls away. His body is incredibly solid and muscular, almost unnaturally so. Everything about him feels graceful and majestic, every move he makes carefully planned.

  After a few moments he pulls away. He turns me around so my back is to his front, and we dance. He dips his face down and nuzzles his nose into my neck, causing my breath to hitch in my chest. It’s been a long time since I felt sensations like this from a strange man.

  I feel him tugging on my shirt now, pulling me backwards with him through the crowd. I turn around and he grabs onto my hand, guiding me to the outskirts of the room and towards the bathrooms. Excitement thrums through my entire body, I can hardly believe this is happening. I actually found him.