Page 13 of The Raven's Alpha

Chapter Six

Eddy Elwood

As I watch Darcy burst out of his mansion, his piercing eyes scanning the grounds searching for me, I feel a pang of longing in my chest. my bear wants to run to him, to throw my arms around him and tell him everything is going to be okay. My bear is screaming at me, urging me to make things right and to go to Darcy. I know that if I go after him now, he'd just react impulsively, without thinking through the consequences.

That's why I left the gift box on his doorstep. It’s a symbol of everything I am offering him - my love, my loyalty, my trust. And I knew that if he takes the time to really think about what I’m giving him, he'd understand that this was something real, something worth fighting for. So, I wait patiently, watching as he disappears into the darkness of the mansion, hoping that he'll come back to me soon and make the right decision.

Darcy’s omega appearance was marred by messy hair and rumpled clothes. His eyes looked tired, with dark circles under them, and his usually radiant scent was dulled by sadness and exhaustion.

‘You caused that,’My bear reminds me.

“I know, I know. I’m working on fixing things. It’s just... it’s not easy to undo the damage I’ve done. I can't just rush in there, expecting everything to be fine. I need to give him space... time to process what's happened. We'll have him when the time is right, I promise.”

My bear's annoyance is palpable, and he blocks out our shared connection. It's a rare occurrence, and I know it's because he doesn't fully comprehend my reasoning. My bear has waited for his fated just as long as I have, patiently standing by my side through every snub or insult directed at us by an omega.

The connection between my bear and me is complex. We're two halves of a single whole, our minds and bodies intertwined. He doesn't always see eye-to-eye with me, and he's not afraid to express his disagreement. Yet, despite his independence, the human part of my brain remains dominant, the ultimate arbiter of our decisions.

From the moment I was born, my bear has been by my side, a constant companion in my solitude. Despite my loneliness, he's never judged me for not settling for a random omega, never pressured me to mate with someone who wasn't meant to be. He knew our fated was out there, waiting for us, and he's patiently stood by me as we waited for that moment to arrive.

I've been lingering here for too long, and I know I can't stay forever. Despite my reluctance to leave, I've grown restless, and the scent of Darcy's euphoria is starting to waft from the building, teasing me like a whispered promise. It's only a matter of time before he emerges, and I'm not sure I'm ready to face the music yet.

As I trudge back home, my body is drained, but my mind is racing with anticipation. I have no idea when Darcy will finally come for me, but I can't help but hope it's soon. The suspense is eating away at me, making me feel restless and impatient.

I spend a couple of hours immersing myself in my cross-stitch pattern, carefully stitching the bakery's logo, a scrumptious cupcake, and a steaming coffee cup. This design is one I've been working on for days, and I'm hoping it'll become part of my prized collection for the bakery. As I thread the needle and weave the fabric, I find my mind begins to calm, and my fingers move with a soothing rhythm. It's ameditative process, one that helps me quiet my thoughts and focus on the present.

When I finish stitching the final thread of my pattern, I notice the darkness outside has crept in and the embers of the fire have dwindled to ash. The cabin, my sanctuary, is bathed in the warm glow of flickering candles. Every detail, from the plush rugs to the vintage decor, was carefully curated to create a sense of maximal cosiness without sacrificing a sense of calm. I wander around the room, my eyes taking in the familiar comforts, my mind begins to wander to what Darcy would think of this space. Would he appreciate the way the soft light casts a warm glow on the worn leather armchair? Would he notice the subtle blend of textures and colours that I've deliberately chosen to create a sense of harmony?

I imagine Darcy's presence in this space, I wonder if he would appreciate the cosy atmosphere of the fireplace, the plush comfort of the sofa, or the warm glow of the candles. Would he enjoy curling up with a blanket, watching me cook dinner, and feeling the warmth of the kitchen? I picture him sitting beside me, his eyes shining with contentment as he savours the aroma of freshly baked bread. And then, my mind wanders to the bedroom, where my massive bed would be the perfect sanctuary for him to build his nest. I would scour the stores for the softest fabrics, the plushest pillows, and the most comfortable blankets to make his nest a haven. I would buy him whatever materials he needed or wanted to make it his own, to create a cosy little world that would be his own personal sanctuary

As I daydream about the possibility of being with Darcy, reality comes crashing back in. I gaze out the window at the rolling hills, and my mind wanders to the grand estate that’s his home. A sprawling mansion, hidden away from the world, with its own private gardens and turrets. I can barely imagine what it would be like to live in such a place. And then, the thought hits me like a cold splash of water - Darcy would never leave his beloved home. Whywould he, when he has everything he could possibly want right at his fingertips? I would be the one who would have to adjust to a new life, not him. The thought of leaving my cosy cabin, my peaceful routine, and my simple way of life is daunting. I can only imagine how overwhelming it would be for me to adapt to the opulence and extravagance of his mansion.

I push aside the doubts and negativity, refusing to let them consume me. If Darcy doesn’t want to leave his mansion, then I wouldn't mind going to him. I'd miss my cabin, my routine, my sense of freedom - but if it means being with Darcy, I'd be willing to make those sacrifices. I think about the sacrifices he's already made for me, the way he's shown me that he's willing to put our relationship above his own desires. I realise that I've been so focused on my own needs and desires that I haven't stopped to consider what he might want. I take a deep breath, letting go of my fears and doubts. I know that no matter where we are, Darcy is worth it. He's worth every sacrifice, every adjustment, every moment of uncertainty. I feel a sense of calm wash over me as I come to this realisation. Maybe leaving my cabin isn't the end of the world - maybe it's just the beginning of a new chapter in our lives together.

I ease into the morning commute, the soft hum of the radio providing a gentle soundtrack to my drive. The roads are still quiet, with only a few stragglers sharing the pavement. I pull up to the bakery just as the sun is starting to rise, casting a golden glow over the sleepy streets. As I step out of the truck, I notice the other business owners are already bustling around, preparing for the early morning rush. I exchange a quick wave with Mr. Harrot, the butcher, but don't linger for a chat. Instead, lost in thought, I make my way towards the front steps of Grizzlies. That's when I see him - sitting on the stoop, waiting for me. As I approach, he looks up from his perch and flashes me a warm smile. My heart skips a beat as I take in the sight of Darcy, his piercing eyes sparkling with amusement

I blink in surprise as I approach the door, my voice barely above a whisper. “Darcy?” I ask, a hint of delight creeping into my tone. “What are you doing out here? It's freezing!” I try to sound gentle, but a hint of worry creeps into my words. I don't want my fated love to freeze to death on my doorstep.

I grasp his hand, the instant our fingers touch, a jolt of electricity runs through me, making my breath catch in my throat. I try to stifle a gasp, but it escapes me nonetheless, a soft hiss that betrays my surprise. Darcy's eyes meet mine, his gaze shining with amusement, as if he anticipated this reaction.

I clear my throat, trying to appear nonchalant, and paste a bright smile on my face. Darcy's eyes seem to sparkle as he returns my smile, and he holds my hand for a moment longer before releasing it. He bends down to pick up the brown paper bag, and I recognize the logo of the bakery down the street. “Ah, I know you have your own bakery,” he says, his tone casual, “but I thought I'd make us some breakfast.” He shrugs, his movements easy and relaxed.

Darcy's face flushes with a becoming blush, his high cheekbones brightening with a gentle rosy glow. The scattered freckles across his cheeks seem to dance with the subtle warmth of his skin, and I'm struck by the urge to explore the delicate texture of his skin with my fingertips. The caveman in me stirs, wondering what it would be like to graze my lips against the gentle rise of his cheekbones, to see if the freckles would yield to the soft pressure of my tongue.

Darcy's feet shift restlessly as he stands there, and I'm suddenly aware that I've been staring at him for far too long. “That's really thoughtful of you,” I say, attempting to break the spell. “I usually just have some toast before I open up shop.” I try to sound casual, but my voice comes out a little breathy, and I can't help but wonder if he's noticed the way my eyes have been fixed on him.

I grab the keys from my pocket and quickly unlock the door, pushing it open to reveal the warm, cosy interior of my shop. I usherDarcy inside, trying to ignore the adorable way his body moves as he shivers from the sudden change in temperature. I catch myself wanting to wrap my arms around him, I force myself to hold back.