A.L.F.A. Mates

by Milly Taiden

  No wonder Frank only ate meat when at school. That’s all his mom cooked. Well, she’d always wondered if the Atkins diet worked. She was about to find out.

  CHAPTER 9

  After a somewhat quiet dinner, Frank sat on the back porch in one of the old rocking chairs from his youth. These exact wooden rockers had been there as long as he could remember. Most nights after supper, his dad would come out and sit and rock for hours. Occasionally, he smoked a cherry-flavored cigar that gave the yard a fruity smell while kids chased fireflies in the night air.

  Tonight, it was his turn to contemplate the universe or whatever his dad thought about all those long hours. His cat had no interest in the universe unless their mate was out there. And she wasn’t. She was on the other side of the door, watching him.

  He tilted his head and caught her peeking behind the door’s curtain. She smiled and looked down. His heart warmed. Her smile used to light up his day, no matter what shit was happening in his life. He missed that.

  The door slowly opened, revealing a shy Amie. The Amie he knew. Not the flashy, attention-seeking woman she had become.

  “Can I join you?” she asked.

  He sat up in the chair. “Yes, I’d like you to.” She quickly opened the door wider, stepped out, and scuttled to the rocking chair on the other side of the door. They remained quiet, rocking, staring out over the yard. He couldn’t smell her emotions with the wind blowing the wrong way, which put him at a disadvantage. Of all the times to not know how a woman felt . . .

  “Your mom is really nice. She’s a great cook. I don’t think I’ve had a better steak anywhere in Vegas.”

  “Yeah, she’s pretty good,” he replied. “She’s been cooking them a long time.” An awkward silence lingered again.

  “I noticed you hadn’t told your mom about us. I guess you never mentioned me to her while we were dating, either.”

  Oh, fuck. He didn’t need to smell to know what she implied. How did he tell her that would’ve been a bad idea at the time? He didn’t.

  “You haven’t mentioned your dad. Where is he?”

  His stomach rolled. He didn’t talk about his dad for a reason: The emotions that grabbed him when talking about his dad were too tough to fight. He glanced at the curtains on the kitchen door.

  “Your mom went upstairs if that’s what you’re wondering.” He had always been amazed by how she knew what he was thinking at times.

  That’s what mates do, dumbass. Shut it, cat. They weren’t really mated. He’d never bitten her hard enough to qualify. Though there were times he came dangerously close. Why he didn’t, he wasn’t sure. Maybe he thought they were too young or not ready yet. Maybe he didn’t want to strap her to someone she didn’t want to spend her life with. Which happened to be the case.

  “Frank?”

  “Yeah. My dad, right.” He realized Amie couldn’t scent him. Perhaps it would be all right to tell her, since no one else was around. “My dad worked for the same organization I do, right now. He used to come home and astound me and the local kids with wild stories that had to be exaggerations, if not outright made up, to entertain the young ones.

  “He spoke of demons and witches, and warlocks that flew on giant dragons. He told of other dimensions where beings were different from us, but had the same issues humans do. But mostly, my dad protected celebrities from all over. A couple movie stars who received death threats when they said something stupid in public. Senators and government officials when they went to other countries. An occasional Mob member who needed to hide out in nowheresville.” He got a smile out of her for that.

  “He was my idol. I wanted so badly to be just as great as he was. Of course, as a kid, you never heard about the bad stuff. So in my mind, he was a god.”

  Amie sat forward in the chair. “What happened?”

  “He was on a special ops mission with a group of SEALs outside the country. The government didn’t tell mom or me much; it was all classified. But we pieced together what we could from those who survived and were willing to talk with us.

  “They were sent to infiltrate North Korea to verify if rumors about the country having nuclear missile capabilities were right. They were true, as the whole world knows now. On the way out, they came across a Korean militia group roaming the land for whatever they could pillage. At that moment, they were attacking a small village of helpless people. They had mud huts and dirt floors, for fuck’s sake. Yet the military had to have what was there.

  “The SEAL leader told his men to ignore the conflict and get to the pickup location. We were told that Dad refused to let the villagers be murdered in such a way. He stepped in and single-handedly took out most of the marauders.

  “Then supposedly he was shot by one of the remaining soldiers fleeing into the jungle. But some of the men on the mission question the sequence of events. I don’t think anyone knew what really happened. They brought his body home. Gave Mom a U.S. flag in a triangle box and said good-bye after the burial.”

  “Oh my god, Frank. That’s horrible, not knowing exactly what happened.”

  There was more to it, but he couldn’t tell her about his dad shifting, then being mistakenly shot by friendly fire. But that was beside the point. His father died and there was nothing anyone could do about it. And now he worked for the same people who got his father killed.

  “So you work for the military?” she asked. “In some secret organization?”

  “Not the military, but yes, a secret group. What do you do now? Anything with art design?”

  Amie laughed. “Are you joking? If you consider attending stupid high-society functions, charity balls where little goes to the charity, and shopping at overpriced stores as art, then yes. I’m using my art degree very much.”

  He laughed this time. Her cheeks blushed. “Stop laughing at me. I know how dumb I seem.”

  “Especially if you consider the time you got trapped in a garbage container while Dumpster-diving our junior year.”

  “Oh my god,” she squealed. “I forgot about that.” She rocked back and laughed. “Holy shit. I didn’t think I’d ever get the smell of rotting food out of my hair. Remember the time when you and your roommate got caught hanging underwear on the mascot statue in the quads?” She laughed harder. “I thought I was going to die when they made you wear tighty–whities on your head for an entire day.”

  Shit. He’d forgotten about that. Talk about embarrassed. He and his roommate had to wear the undies with their eyes showing through the leg holes and their noses sticking out the center slit. Luckily, they were able to wear brand-new pairs and not used ones.

  “That was so humiliating,” he started. “At least it kept me from getting nervous about that night.”

  “That night?” Amie replied. “What did you do that night?”

  His heart hurt a little from her not remembering, but it was four years ago. “I asked you to marry me.” Her guilt and shame filled the night air. Shit. He’d done it again. He wanted to kick himself.

  His cat interrupted. Here, let me. It scraped claws down the inside of his brain. Fuck! He winced at the pain.

  As he expected, she remained quiet. He should apologize, but for what? Remembering that she walked out on him with no explanation, no reason? Remembering his pain and worry that something had happened to her until getting a simple text several days later that said I’m fine. I can’t see you ever again.

  Amie stood and opened the door to the kitchen. She looked over her shoulder at him. “Frank, I’m sorry how it ended up. And despite all that, you still decided to help me now.”

  “Don’t get too excited. It’s my job.”

  “Maybe, but Detective Freeman could’ve called and requested someone else. But you stuck beside me.”

  Yeah, he did. What did that say about him? He was a hopeless fuck overrun with weakness when it came to protecting his mate? That’s w
hat mates do, dumbass. Shut it, cat.

  “Anyway,” she said, “I can’t thank you enough for taking me in.” She stepped inside and quietly closed the door. He heard her climb the stairs as the sixth step squeaked. He should find the hammer and take care of that before leaving.

  He sat back in the old rocking chair and stared at the million points of light overhead. In the city, he never got this view. Always too many damn lights. Only when he let his cougar out in the mountains did he get this sight.

  He took a deep breath then let it out slowly. The comfort of home spread through him. Where he was loved and accepted. Not having to hide who or what he was.

  His mate filled his mind. He would protect her with his life despite anything he said. He still loved her and always would. No other woman was for him. No other woman would even interest him enough to say hi.

  Actually, what was stopping him from trying to rekindle the spark between them? The absolute terror of being rejected again. But she still felt something for him. He’d smelled her desire a few times already. Maybe it was just sex she wanted. That could be a start. Remind her how he drove her crazy, her crying out his name as she came hard around his cock.

  Shit, now he was getting hard. He adjusted to sit on one ass cheek.

  Yes, maybe that would be a good start. Bring back how good it used to be between them and then never let her go, no matter what she said. They were meant to be together. He had to find out what was getting in the way and end it.

  Feeling better with a plan, he went into the living room and lay on the couch. He knew he’d never be able to sleep knowing his mate was on the other side of the bathroom in bed without him. Fuck!

  CHAPTER 10

  Amerella woke earlier than normal. She knew when she opened her eyes. The sun was usually much brighter when she peeled the sleeping mask from her face. Thinking back to last night, she didn’t remember waking once, which was extremely unusual for her. Guess feeling safe and cared for worked better than meds. She’d forgotten to take them after talking with Frank on the back porch.

  Frank.

  She couldn’t believe she was in his mother’s home. After their three years together and four apart, never once did she think she’d be here. She wondered if Frank was still asleep. Quietly, she slid through the door on her side of the shared bathroom and opened the door to his room just enough to peek in.

  His bed was messy, but nobody was under the covers. Darn.

  No, no, no. She couldn’t think that way. Her options were clear—she had none. She couldn’t let herself open to him. Not if she wanted to keep him alive.

  After a quick shower, she dressed in a casual pantsuit and heels then headed downstairs. Everything was so quiet here. No cars zipping along the road. No siren or people shouting. No blaring music from the pain-in-the-ass neighbor kids. It was nice, but a little spooky. Like in a Twilight Zone episode where everyone on the planet disappeared but her.

  “Hello? Mom Dubois?” The kitchen door closed, startling her.

  Mom looked her up and down. “Good morning, Amie. I didn’t expect you up so early.” Amie eyed Mom’s housecoat and flip-flops. Mom’s cheeks reddened a bit. “Oh, don’t mind this old thing.” She gestured at her garb. “I was out for a run in the woods. It’s a beautiful morning.”

  “A run?” Amie asked. “In flip-flops?”

  Mom looked down at her feet and remained quiet for a second, then looked up. “I’m going to change. How about you pull out some things for breakfast and I’ll be right back.”

  Amie watched her leave and wondered what that was all about. Who ran in the woods in flip-flops? She could barely walk in the damn things without stumbling over her own feet. She brushed it off to living in a small community, and headed for the fridge. She was hungry.

  As soon as she opened the refrigerator door, her memory of the contents from the night before came back. Meat, meat, and more meat. Except only half of what was there last night remained. Had Frank eaten already? Was he even here? Could she eat a steak for breakfast? The thought turned her stomach.

  She closed the fridge. Hopefully they had cereal. Her favorite was cinnamon Life. That shit was so good, she could go through a box in two sittings. But seeing as there wasn’t much fiber in it, she had the occasional bowl of tree bark doused in sugar. And that shit was never good. No matter how much sugar was added to cardboard, it still tasted like cardboard.

  On the counter sat a couple of paper grocery bags. She peeked inside to see normal food. Thank god. Wheat bread, eggs, a stalk of romaine lettuce, veggies, fruit, sliced chicken, mayo, and other things she’d gladly eat were stuffed inside. She thought about unpacking the bags, but then wondered if they were meant for someone else.

  Mom came back into the room wearing another dress Beaver Cleaver’s mom would wear on a bad day. If that’s what she liked, who was she to criticize?

  Mom said, “Looks like François did some shopping this morning. Let’s see what he got.” She pulled items out of the bag like she’d never seen such things before. She shook her head, rolled her eyes, and said, “Of course, how silly of me.” She carried items to the fridge. “I forget that our little town has its quirks and when visitors come we need to be prepared. Not that my son gave either of us much time to prepare, huh?”

  Amie remembered her own dash through the closet and bath to pack things before Frank pushed her onto a plane to BFE. “I agree. Not much time. But I’m not picky when it comes to food.” She gestured to herself. “As you can see.”

  Mom looked at her. “I can see what?”

  Amie raised a brow. “I’m a big girl, Mom Dubois. Nothing like you.”

  Crossing her arms, Mom leaned against the counter. “Dear, you are stunning. Every man in town will kiss your feet when you walk by. Now, don’t get me wrong, sweetie. In our town, you’re beautiful. But even if you were skinny, you’d still be welcomed. We’d just feed you a lot so you’d look healthy.”

  Tears stung Amie’s eyes. No one had ever made such a fuss telling her she was beautiful, except Frank. He’d loved her body even though there was more of her than other girls he could’ve had. He always called them scrawny with pointy knees and elbows. He liked her softness against him, not bones. And he had shown her almost every night how much he loved her softness by pounding into her again and again. A shudder crept down her back.

  Mom took a deep breath and relaxed her shoulders. “François is in town talking with the police chief. I think he wants to let them know you’re here and to keep an eye out for anything unusual.”

  She stiffened. “Do you think there will be any problems?”

  “No, there never is. Because the single road here is somewhat hidden in the trees and hard to find, usually only the people who live here come this way. I don’t even think Google has us on their map. Maybe the satellite view, but not the ground view. When we heard the vehicle with the video recorder was in the area, several of us disguised the turn-off as a camp road that dead-ended quickly. They drove right on by.”

  Amie laughed. “That would be an accomplishment. Google has everybody’s number.”

  “It seems that way. Now, how about eggs, toast, and bacon for breakfast? That’s normal, isn’t it?”

  That was strange. Was it not normal for them? “Yes, that would be very normal. Thank you.”

  After a couple attempts at the eggs—the first set burnt to a crisp while the two ladies searched for the toaster, which they never found—several slices of bacon cooked to perfection, and fruit, Amie was once again full. Maria’s cooking was great. But seldom did Maria create a meal for her. Usually, it was just tacos, burritos, veggie burgers, pizza. But both she and Maria made certain their little Francis had all the food groups, even though he barely touched anything but meat.

  Mom stood at the open refrigerator. “Well, seems we’re low on red meat. Would you like to go into town with me to the bu
tcher’s?”

  “Sure, it’d be great to walk around and see the place.”

  Mom clasped her hands together. “Great. I’ll be right back.”

  Amie found her purse by a chair in the living room and noted the blanket and pillow on the sofa. She wondered if Frank slept there last night. Did he despise her so much that he couldn’t even be on the same floor as her? Her heart broke a little. She hurried out of the room, mad at herself for letting her walls down.

  She nearly collided with Mom in the kitchen. “What’s wrong, dear?” Mom asked.

  “Nothing. Let’s go.” Amie hurried outside.

  Mom was right about it being a great day. The late-morning sun was shining, but it wasn’t too hot with the fresh, cool breeze in their faces. As they walked along the crumbling sidewalk toward the shops, Amie noticed the lack of people around. In Vegas residential areas, others were always out walking dogs, working in flower beds, washing cars. Games of pick-up basketball were almost continuous with the kids.

  The single court they passed here had more weeds than asphalt and the one hoop still up didn’t look like it would be that way much longer. “I guess you all don’t have many children around here?”

  Mom looked at the court also. “We do, but I guess they do other things.”

  “All you need to do is put salt in the cracks with the weeds to kill them without using chemicals, then put a coating over the top of the asphalt, and you’d have a clean surface again. Wouldn’t cost more than a couple hundred dollars.”

  “Really?” Mom said. “That doesn’t seem too hard.”