Filed To Story: Alpha's Regret: His Wrongful Rejection
The morning sun rising over the high peak at my back as I walked away from the only home I’d ever known with nothing but a backpack and a hand-drawn map.
Alec’s steps behind me, and my wolf’s giddy yips as she recognized immediately what I’m only now understanding.
I’m not alone.
And it gets sweeter all the time.
Epilogue
EPILOGUE
Epilogue
ALEC
I don’t know how I ended up with a pack of females except that Fate has a sense of humor. Moving them anywhere as a herd takes time, patience, and at least three trips to the bathroom.
Miss Nola’s always ready when it’s time to go. Right now, she’s waiting at the den door with her purse and her hair done. Her face is pale and pinched, but she’ll make it outside all right.
She’s come a long way since we brought her to the Old Den, and besides, she’s been looking forward to today since I told her the plan. She hates living underground with no windows, and I don’t think she would have made it at first if Flora hadn’t kept talking about how panicked she was about the pup. Miss Nola has trouble finding courage for herself, but she’s got plenty for Flora, and now, for our Maisie.
Flora doesn’t have her shoes on, and Maisie hasn’t got drawers on. Flora’s wiping her down while she pumps her chubby legs. Seems like there must’ve been a blowout just before I got here. There’s a distinct odor in the air.
I am also keen on living somewhere with windows again.
“Hey, I got this. You get your shoes on,” I tell Flora once it looks like she’s got the deck swabbed down, so to speak.
“My hero. Riding in just after the nick of time.”
I slap her ass to get her moving and grab a diaper. As soon as Maisie catches sight of me, her face breaks out in a gummy, ear-to-ear smile, her chins creasing as she squeals. I can’t resist. I scoop her up and blow a raspberry on her tubby little belly, and she grabs my hair and pulls.
“All right, I surrender,” I say, gently loosening her fingers before she snatches me bald. For a second, I dangle her in the air at eye level, so I can watch her grin at me like I’m the finest thing she’s ever seen, an object of pure delight. For the thousandth time since Abertha put her in my arms, I promise silently that she’ll never look at me any other way.
It’s my life’s work to earn those looks from her mama, and she’s much stingier with them than our Maisie. I think she’ll give me a smile today, though. My dick twitches, and I tell it to settle. A happy Flora is often up to sneak off to Pritchard’s or one of the dens under construction, but she’s been tired lately since Maisie’s been teething. Flora’s more inclined to cuddle at night than come up with an excuse for Miss Nola so we can disappear for a few hours.
Those days are about over, though. I stuff Maisie into a pair of leggings and put a flower headband on her. Flora’s a big fan of the headbands. She doesn’t want people thinking Maisie’s a boy since she’s still bald. I don’t see how anyone would. The pack’s not that big. Everyone knows everyone.
I suppose it is getting bigger, though. As I lead my ladies through the crowded hall and get stopped a half dozen times with questions about work, it strikes me again that we’re growing. Soon, I’m going to need to deputize someone to say, “Who had it last? Well, go ask him what he did with it.”
Say what you will about Salt Mountain, but at least the elders of Granddad’s generation taught us to put our tools back where we got ’em.
As we exit the den into a bright, early summer afternoon, I feel Flora’s excitement ratchet up through the bond. I hoist Maisie higher on my shoulder so she can look behind and see her mama smile.
“It’s not far,” I say, glancing over my shoulder. Flora’s got Miss Nola’s hand tucked in the crook of her arm, keeping her close. Miss Nola’s picking her way carefully, eyes trained on the ground, and that’s fine. Whatever helps her get to our new digs.
We pass by the treehouse hutch I built for Harriet. It’s empty now. Pritchard asked if he could use it; he has some idea about turning it into a fattening pen for some wild chickens he’s got designs on, but I don’t think Flora would look too kindly on that.
“Look at all the trailers,” Flora says. “It’s turning into a real town.”
I grunt. After the threat from the human hunters was dealt with once and for all, Cadoc decided it was safe enough for his people to haul their homes over from the Moon Lake bogs and set up outside the den. We couldn’t carve out new warrens fast enough to keep up with the matings and the pups. There’s something about the Old Den. I don’t know if it’s the air or the water, but I’ve never seen so many females go into heat so frequently.
I didn’t have anything to do with the Zaroff operation, and I don’t know much about it beyond that they named it after a story apparently everybody but me read back at the Academy. It was about a human hunting another human and calling it “the most dangerous game,” which is ridiculous. They aren’t. If we were to hunt humans, it’d be like shooting fish in a barrel.
Anyway, I’m glad it’s done with because I’m more than ready to sleep in a bed with a frame with my mate. I will miss sneaking off, though. The danger of getting caught makes Flora hasty in a really greedy way. Once, she popped the button clear off my jeans.
When I see the three tall firs I built our cabin between, I call back, “Put your hand on my waist and close your eyes.”
There’s giggling as Flora does as she’s told, and Miss Nola swears she’s closed her eyes, even though she hasn’t, and Maisie screeches, sensing the excitement.
I take Flora by the shoulders, adjusting her so she’ll be looking at the porch with the black, wrought iron railing, and the red front door. Miss Nola smiles at me, her eyes twinkling, and I take my place beside my mate.
“Okay, you can open them.” I watch Flora as she blinks, a smile breaking across her face.
“It’s tall!”
I grunt. It is. I built the roof with a steep pitch, both to better handle the snow, and to allow for two loft bedrooms in case we end up with a passel of pups.
“And yellow!” She grabs my hand and drags me with her to examine the outside. “How did you know I’d like a yellow house?”
I didn’t. I wanted a bright color, though, a happy color, and I thought the yellow matched her somehow.
We round the back of the house, and she squeals. She’s seen Harriet’s new digs.
“It’s the exact same as our house! But it’s on stilts!”
“Foxes won’t dare come around here anymore, not with the scent so thick, but we’re going to have neighbors eventually, and they’re going to have wolves.”
Flora has already climbed the ladder to give Harriet a pet.
Maisie reaches, her fingers splayed, but I recognize that gleam in her eye. “It’s Mama’s pet. Not food,” I whisper in her tiny ear.
“Oh, Alec.” Miss Nola is kneeling next to her old trunk, running her fingers over its new hinges. “You didn’t have to.”
I shrug. “It was nothing.”
I see her looking for something else to say, her eyes misting up, so I hustle them into the house through the kitchen door.
“Gas range,” I point out. “Refrigerator. It’s a French-door. That’s even better than a side-by-side.”
Both females are suitably impressed, and they want to open the drawers and push the buttons, but I keep them moving and show them the great room with the woodstove, the two bedrooms, and the master bath. I built an annex for Miss Nola with her own bed and bath and a door to the outside should she ever want it.
There’s not much in the way of decorations or curtains or furniture, but it’ll come. Cadoc has taken to loaning me out on occasion to advise on projects at Quarry Pack and North Border, and he lets me keep the payment. He says it’s good for diplomacy, and all I can say to that is better him worrying about such things than me. As long as I’m not gone too long, I’ll take the cash.
There is a woven rag rug in the middle of the great room, and that’s where I plop Maisie so she can explore. Like usual, she’s not inclined to venture forth until she’s had a nice long time to play with her feet and tell the cabin at large a long, involved story in baby babble.
I sit and relax on the sofa that I took back from my place at Salt Mountain and listen to the females poking around. A warmth fills my chest, a contentedness that I never felt before I mated Flora, more precious than gold, and terrifying.
I pray to Fate every day for luck because if keeping this family happy comes down to skill, I’m fucked.
Finally, Flora and Miss Nola finish with their inspection, and Flora wanders out to the front porch to admire the view. Miss Nola sinks to the floor to try and coax Maisie into crawling.
I follow my mate, and before I shut the door, Miss Nola calls, “Take your time. I’ve got things covered in here.”
Flora catches my eye, grinning. She heard Miss Nola, too.
“So do you like it?” I ask, sidling up to stand next to her at the railing.
“It’s perfect.”
“You’re perfect,” I say, bending over and nosing my mark on her neck. She wiggles and then ducks to kiss the mark she gave me one night before she was too far gone with Maisie when we ran as our wolves until dawn broke.
“Stay here,” she tells me and skips down the steps. I watch her ass swish and bounce as she strolls across the dirt lawn I’ve seeded and strewn with straw. When she gets to the trees on the far side of the clearing, she turns and smiles.
She’s in the shadows, but sunlight filters through the leaves, dappling her beautiful hair and her pink lips and her magnificent breasts.
“What are you doing all the way over there?” I call.
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she jerks her chin.
I go.
I scoop her up, carry her far enough so that her screams could be mistaken for a bird, drop her to her feet, and fall on my knees.
I would fight for our life together, kill for it. Die for it. But that’s not what I have to do. I have to treasure it. Protect it.