Alpha Temptation: Sanmere Shifters Romance Collection

by Lola Gabriel

  Catherine’s Journal

  May 26, 1995

  It’s worse than I ever imagined it could be. Suddenly, insanity seems like a better option that this. I would love to think I am locked away in an asylum somewhere, but I no longer believe that. I can’t let myself believe that because I know in my heart that my imagination isn’t twisted enough to cook this up. It’s not a hallucination. It’s real. Oh, heaven help me, it’s real.

  Fabian didn’t come for me himself—he sent someone else to collect me. I was told we would be going to District Seventy-Three. When it became clear I had no idea what that meant, the man rolled his eyes and told me it was Arizona. I knew there was no use in arguing. I had no more of an escape plan then I had the night before. I was screwed.

  They made me drink something else, something bitter and nasty tasting and when I drank it, everything went black. I woke up here. In this cell. Yes, I am in a cell. Well, truthfully, I am in a small building behind Fabian’s castle, but I’m locked in with nothing except a dirty, hard bench and a hole in the ground that I assume is my toilet. It might as well be a cell. It sure as hell feels like one.

  I have met Fabian and he’s absolutely terrifying. I definitely had the wrong impression of fairies if this one is anything to go by. They are nasty, evil creatures. I have known Fabian for less than an hour, and in that time, all he has done is torment me, telling me that I am his property now and that I will be his mate whether I like it or not.

  He forced himself on me, telling me he wanted me pregnant sooner rather than later. I tried to fight him off, but he was too strong for me. He just laughed, telling me he is centuries old and I don’t stand a chance with him. Does that mean I am now immortal too? I didn’t dare to ask, but I really hope I’m not. Death seems like the only way out of this for me.

  When he was done with me, he zipped himself back up and told me I had two choices. I could continue to try to fight him and stay in my cell, or I could embrace my new life and be treated like his mate.

  I think I’m going to have to go with option B. As unbearable as it sounds, it has to be better than spending my life locked away in a cell or a shed or whatever the fuck this building is. God help me, I think I’m going to do it. I’m going to embrace my new life.

  Catherine’s Journal

  August 5, 1995

  It’s been a long time since I made an entry in my journal, which is unheard of for me. I have always been strict with my journaling since I first started one ten years ago when I was fifteen. I journaled every day, sometimes multiple times a day. But that was the old me. Now I am someone else. Even writing this feels strange to me, but I have to get it all out and this is the only way.

  I have reinvented myself as a fairy, the mate of a dark fae (who incidentally is no king, as I was led to believe). We live in this dark, musty old castle in the middle of a mountain range in Arizona. It’s always too hot and everything is constantly dusty, but that’s the least of my worries.

  I play the role of the dutiful wife—and I was right, as awful as it is, it’s better than being locked in a dirty little out-building, peeing in a hole in the ground like a damned animal. Fabian isn’t a nice man, but while I’m willing to play the game, he mostly leaves me alone, except for when he wants to try and get me pregnant.

  I’m even trusted enough to be able to go down the mountain and into the little town at the foot of it. I know there’s no point in me trying to run. I have no doubt that Fabian is deadly serious when he tells me that if I try it, he will hunt me down and make me wish I had never been born. I have no passport, no money. It’s not like I’d get far even if I dared to try it.

  Going down into the town makes my life bearable, mostly because I’ve made a friend. A good friend who I trust. Fabian made it clear that my identity had to remain a secret in the town because most of the residents are humans and they would think I was crazy if I started talking about being a fairy. I’m okay with Polly, though. She’s a witch and when she saw me coming down the mountainside one day, she knew exactly what I was.

  We got to talking and swapping stories and I ended up telling her everything. How I was more of a prisoner than a wife but I had chosen to make the best of it, and how I was dreading the day I ended up pregnant and was forced to bring a baby up in that musty old castle with such an evil man as the baby’s father.

  That day was last week. I found out last Monday morning that I’m pregnant. That’s why I’m writing in my journal today. I need to get it all out. I really don’t know how I feel about it all. I’m gutted on one hand for obvious reasons, but on the other hand, Fabian has treated me much better since he found out I am expecting his child. Gentle is the wrong word—I don’t think Fabian has a gentle bone in his body—but so far, he’s stopped yelling at me all the time, and I no longer have to cower in fear in case I get a beating for not being pregnant. You know, because if I’m not, it’s clearly my fault because I’m not trying hard enough or something.

  I told Polly my secret and she agreed completely about how bad an idea it would be to raise a child here with Fabian. We’ve come up with a plan. I’m going to introduce Polly to Fabian as my midwife and she’s going to help me save my baby from such a terrible fate. I am happy that my baby will be safe from his clutches, able to lead a normal life away from this place. But I’m also absolutely devastated that I will have to give my baby up and not be able to watch him or her grow up.

  I thought writing down my feelings and thoughts on this would help, but it hasn’t. Not really. I am still in the exact same dilemma as I was when I picked my pen up. I don’t want my baby to grow up here but I still don’t want to give my baby up. I have seven months to get used to it.

  Seven months. It sounds like a long time, but it isn’t really, not in the big scheme of things. It’s likely to fly by, and I don’t think I’ll be any more at peace with my decision then than I am now.

  Catherine’s Journal

  May 1996

  The plan worked. Or at least I think it did. I gave birth two months ago and Fabian has done nothing to suggest he’s looking for the baby. Polly deserves an Oscar for the performance she gave. She really does.

  She was called to the castle when my labor began and considering she’s not really a midwife, she coached me through every stage of my labor like a pro. She held my hand, wiped my brow, told me when to push and when to pant. And when I screamed like a banshee and squeezed her hand so tightly I felt the bones in there rubbing together, she didn’t complain once.

  As my baby slipped out of me finally, after eight grueling hours of labor, Polly used a spell she had been practicing to disguise the baby. Where the baby should be, there was nothing but air. My baby had been made invisible and silent. Once that was done, Polly gave me a potion to drink, one she told me would ensure I never became pregnant again.

  I drank it and it hurt like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It made the labor look like child’s play. And the blood. My God, the blood. It all played into the plan, though. Polly went to Fabian, teary-eyed and covered head to toe in blood and told him I had had a horrific birth and the baby was stillborn. She explained that my uterus was destroyed in the process and that I had been lucky to survive the ordeal.

  I don’t think Fabian believed her, at least not until he came into my room and saw the blood. I was covered in it and the bed was covered in it. It had dripped down onto the floor, and in some places, it was even up the walls. I saw the light go out in his eyes and I knew he believed it then.

  Polly left the castle, taking my baby with her. I never even got to see my baby’s face. I had no idea if I had had a girl or a boy. I felt like I had had a stillbirth, I really did. But I kept reminding myself that I had done the right thing, given my baby the only chance it had of living any sort of a normal life.

  Polly had agreed to leave the town, to move away and raise the child as her own. And that had to be enough for me. It was hard, though. On that first night, I just cried and cried and cried. I was inco
nsolable.

  And from there, it only got worse. Now I was useless to Fabian. He never wanted a mate, a wife. He wanted a baby machine and I could no longer produce children for him. He threw me into this dank and dreary room at the top of the castle and this is where I remain. It’s where I fear I will always remain. Fabian’s guards bring me food and drinks and some days, I’m even brought a bowl of warm water to wash with.

  I can feel the dark depression looming over my mind, and I know that’s only going to get worse. I feel like this will be my last journal entry. I have nothing more to say. What is there to report when you’re locked in a tiny room, forgotten by the world? I debated writing a fictional account of my child’s life, giving them a personality, achievements. Talking about their first steps, their first day at school, but the idea is too depressing. I just can’t bring myself to think about my child, except to hope that Polly is a good mom to him or her. I think she will be. And that has to be enough for me, but it’s not.

  I should really destroy this journal. If Fabian were to ever find it, then he would know that his child is out there somewhere and he wouldn’t rest until he found him or her. To what end, I don’t know, but nothing good could come of it. I know that much.

  Maybe one day I will find the strength to do it, but for now, I just can’t. Even though I don’t think I will want to write in it again, just knowing that I can is pretty much the only thing keeping me marginally sane. Fabian has no interest in my journal. He has no interest in me and he’s hardly going to want to read my ramblings.

  I guess I will just have to hope it stays that way.

  1

  2014

  Laila Kent felt as though her heart was breaking. Like it was literally being ripped in two. She had heard people talking about being heartbroken before, but she had never expected it to feel this way. Not like a literal physical pain in her chest. She had always imagined it to be more of a strong emotion than a physical ache. She now knew it was both.

  She stumbled through the front door of her home, moving through the light and airy hallway and into the living room. Her mom looked up as she came into the room. Laila let go then. She couldn’t hold the pain inside of herself any longer. The drive home from the hospital had been hard enough, and now that she was home and safe with her mom, the pain burst out of her.

  Her body began to shake as sobs wracked her. Her mom jumped to her feet, abandoning the book she had been reading. She wrapped Laila in her arms, holding her tightly and stroking her hair.

  “Shh. It’s okay,” she whispered over and over again. “Everything is going to be okay.”

  Laila wanted to tell her she was wrong. It wasn’t okay and it never would be okay ever again, but she couldn’t talk around her sobs. Her anguish had moved from her heart to her throat, blocking her airways, leaving her gasping and unable to speak.

  She didn’t know how long she had stood there in her mom’s arms, sobbing her heart out, but it felt like a long time. Finally, her sobs trailed off to hiccupping sniffles that left her feeling cold despite the sun streaming in the window. Now that she was a little bit calmer, her mom released her from her tight embrace. She wrapped her arm around Laila’s waist and led her to the couch where she gently pushed her down. She sat down beside Laila and took one of Laila’s hands in both of hers.

  “What happened, love?” she asked quietly.

  Laila shook her head. She didn’t want to say it out loud. She felt as though giving voice to what she had found out would make it more real. She knew she had to say something, though. Her mom was peering at her with such concern. She took a deep breath and blurted it out.

  “I… I had some tests done at the hospital. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to worry you. But I got the results today. Mom, I can’t have children,” Laila said.

  She felt the tears bubbling over again. She let them come, powerless to stop them. She was a little surprised to learn that she could still cry. She had thought her tears were all used up.

  “Oh Laila, I’m so sorry, love,” her mom said, pulling her in for another hug.

  Laila allowed herself to be held, needing the comfort only her mom could bring her. After a few minutes, her mom pulled back from her, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

  “Listen, love, I know this feels like the end of the world, but you’re so young…”

  “I’m eighteen, Mom, and I know what I want,” Laila said. “Or should I say what I wanted. I wanted kids. Lots of them.”

  Laila had wanted a big family for as long as she could remember. While the other children at school played at being brides, Laila played at being a mom to a hundred children. In high school, when she heard about Miley Lang getting pregnant at sixteen, she didn’t pity the girl; she envied her.

  Laila’s period had never come in. She remembered being fifteen and being the only girl left in her friends’ group that hadn’t had a period yet. She had talked to her mom about it, and her mom reassured her, telling her that some girls started their period later than others. After that, each time she had brought it up, her mom had given her the same old story, but Laila had known something was wrong with her. She didn’t know how she knew, she just felt it in the pit of her stomach, and so she had made this appointment.

  She hadn’t expected this, though. She had expected it to be something the doctors could fix. But nothing could fix this. She was broken in the worst possible way. She would never have the big family she had imagined, never have a tiny child look up at her with a gummy grin and say mama for the first time.

  “You still have options, Lails,” her mom said. “You can adopt children. There are so many children who need good homes.”

  “I know,” Laila sniffled.

  It didn’t really make her feel better, though. She ached to have her own baby. To feel it moving around inside of her, to give birth and hold her baby for the first time.

  “Besides,” her mom went on, “you don’t need to be worrying about this now. You’re starting college in September and you’re still young. Enjoy life and worry about this once you’re older and settled down.”

  Laila nodded her head, but she didn’t think it would be that simple. This wasn’t something she could put on the back burner, a problem for another day. She didn’t want to worry her mom, though, and she could see by her mom’s expression that she was close to tears herself.

  Laila gave a big sniff and then she managed to give her mom a watery smile.

  “I know you’re right, Mom. I just need some time to get my head around it all,” she said. “I’m going to go up to my room for a bit if that’s okay.”

  “Okay, love. Dinner’s almost done, though,” her mom said.

  Laila shook her head.

  “I’m not hungry. You have yours and just keep mine. I’ll heat it up later.”

  They both knew that wasn’t going to happen, but Laila’s mom knew better than to push the matter. She could see how upset Laila was and she only hoped that she would manage to get her head around this and accept it.

  Laila got up and went up to her room. She pulled the duvet back and, getting beneath it, she lay with her face in her pillow, crying and crying. The pillow was soaked through with tears, but Laila didn’t feel the dampness against her skin. She didn’t feel anything but broken, numb.

  She cried herself to sleep that night and for several nights after it.

  2

  2019

  Laila moaned as her cell phone rang, pulling her out of a dream where she was a mom, holding her baby on her hip as she walked her older daughter to school for her first day there. Laila dreamed some variation of that dream every night. Every morning, she woke up and remembered that it would never happen for her, and for a moment, she felt her world crashing down around her, but then she took a deep breath, swallowed down the feeling, and faced the day.

  She groped around on the floor for her cell phone and brought it up to her ear.

  “Hello?” she said, her voice thick with sleep.
<
br />   “Laila, hi. It’s Cassie Braham,” a chirpy female voice said. “Is this a bad time?”

  Laila sat up quickly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She moved the cell phone from her face for a moment and cleared her throat. Her stomach fluttered with butterflies and she crossed her fingers tightly. She brought the cell phone back to her ear.

  “No, not at all. How are you?” she said.

  “I’m fine, thank you,” Cassie replied. “I am just calling to let you know you got the job.”

  Laila resisted the urge to scream in delight, and instead, she thanked Cassie in what she hoped was the right balance of professional and enthusiastic. This wasn’t just any old job. This was Laila’s dream job. She had always wanted to teach and although her mom had gently tried to talk her out of the idea when she found out Laila couldn’t have children, worrying it might be too upsetting for her to be around children all of the time, she wouldn’t be dissuaded. She had explained to her mom that being around children helped her cope with the idea that she could never have her own.

  While being a teacher was a long way from being a mom, it felt good to Laila to be around kids and to be able to help nurture them and shape them for their futures. And now she had gotten the call she had been waiting for. The call to tell her it was happening.

  The job with Cassie would mean moving away from Summerhaven, her hometown, and going all the way to the tiny town of Greer, but it wasn’t that far away—it was still in Arizona, and besides, Laila would have moved to Mars if it meant she got to be a teacher. She was already picturing her first class, the eager little faces turned up to hers. And this job had an advantage over some of the others she had applied for all over the country. It came with a fully furnished house. Cassie had described the house as small but tasteful and that solved a huge problem for Laila.