Page 24 of The Raven's Alpha

As we sit there, the air around us seems to vibrate with an unspoken understanding. It's like we're sharing a secret, something that only we understand. And in that moment, I know that I would do anything to make Darcy proud, to be the alpha he needs me to be.

I lean my head forward, our lips almost touching as I whisper the words against his lips, the softness of my breath mingling with his as I thank him for his kind words. The warmth of his mouth sends a shiver down my spine, and I feel my heart flutter in response.

As we break apart, I gaze into his eyes, searching for answers. His lips curve upward in a gentle smile as he kisses me back, the softness of his mouth is a comforting presence.

I pull away, my breath catching in my throat as I ask, "What about you? Tell me about your family." The question hangs in the air and I can see Darcy's mind racing as he considers how much to reveal.

Darcy's emotions shift, his scent changing, like a smouldering fire that's about to ignite. A shadow falls across his face, his eyesclouding over like a stormy sky as he looks down at the water surrounding us.

"We don't have to talk about it right now, if you don't want to," I tell him.

He shakes his head, "No, it's fine," he says, his voice quiet and filled with emotion. "I'd have to tell you about it eventually."

Darcy's gaze lifts, his eyes searching mine as he begins to tell me his story. "I don't know my birth family," he says, his voice cracking like a twig underfoot. "But a nice shifter family took me in when I was still a chick. I was kind of malnourished and they nursed me back to health..."

As he speaks, I can feel the weight of his words settling around me like a shroud. His story is like a fragile eggshell, one wrong move and it could shatter into a million pieces. But I'm drawn to him, like a moth to a flame, and I know that I need to be there for him as he tells his story.

Darcy's words paint a vivid picture in my mind as he continues to tell me about his adoptive family. The smoky scent still lingers in the air, but it's no longer a heavy fog - it's now a warm, golden glow that illuminates Darcy's face. His lips curve upward in a radiant smile, the warmth of it spreading across his face like a sunrise.

I can almost hear the rustling of leaves and snapping of twigs as Darcy tells me about him and his brother Jackson tearing through the woods in their shifted forms. I can feel the wind whipping through their feathers, ruffling their plumage as they chase each other through the trees.

"Jackson was always faster than me," Darcy says, his voice tinged with laughter. "But I never gave up. I'd catch up to him and we'd tumble to the ground, feathers and fur flying everywhere."

The image is so vivid that I can almost see it playing out before me. The wind whispers secrets through the trees, and I can smell theearthy scent of the forest floor. It's as if I'm right there with them, feeling the rush of adrenaline as they play.

As Darcy finishes his story, his eyes sparkle with joy, and I can feel my heart swell with affection for him. I know that I'm drawn to him not just because of his rugged good looks or his quick wit - but because of his kind heart and his deep love for his family.

"It was a couple of days after my eighteenth birthday," Darcy says, his eyes gazing off into the distance as he recalls the memory. "My family loved the Christmas markets in the village and would go pretty much every day while the celebrations were on. They loved the festive treats and all the decorations. I wish I had gone with them, but I had this habit of going out on my own on Sundays."

He pauses, his gaze drifting back to me as if searching for understanding. "I used to spend hours just flying through the sky," he continues, his voice low and emotional. "As I soared through the clouds, the wind beneath my wings, and the sun on my feathers, I felt free and alive. It was like a ritual, a sacred act of self-care, where I'd lose myself in the rush of the wind and the thrill of flight."

I can almost see him taking to the skies, his wings beating steadily as he glides effortlessly on the breeze, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of adventure. I can feel the rush of excitement in his words, and my heart swells with empathy for this lonely bird who's found solace in flight.

"Darcy," I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "I understand. Self-care is important." I wrap my arms around him, holding him close as I offer words of understanding. His eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, we're lost in each other's gaze.

Darcy's smile falters as he continues his story, his eyes clouding over with a mixture of sadness and regret. “So yeah, I told my family I was going to stay at home and take a little trip around the grounds, just to clear my head. Mum nodded, her eyes worried, and Dad said, ‘Be careful, son. We'll be back by tea time’. But they never made it back.'"

I can almost see him sitting in the living room, the clock ticking away in the silence. The sun had set hours ago, casting long shadows across the room. He paces back and forth across the floor, his eyes scanning the shadows as if searching for some sign of his family's return.

"The mansion perched on the hilltop had been my home for as long as I could remember," Darcy says, his voice barely above a whisper. "It’s magnificence and beauty are tempered by the comfort and warmth of the family who lived within its walls. But even though it was only the four of us, the place never felt empty or lonely."

I can feel his pain and sorrow washing over me like a wave. I can imagine him sitting on the sofa, waiting for his family to return, waiting for something to happen.

"I woke up to a knock on the door," Darcy says, his voice cracking with emotion. "And there were two police officers standing there, their faces sombre and serious. They told me that Dad had skidded on some black ice and...and they were dead."

The words hang in the air, a reminder that sometimes life can be cruel and unfair. Darcy's eyes are a deep shade of brown, rimmed with red and brimming with unshed tears as he recounts his story. His voice is steady, but I can see the pain and grief writ large on his face. I feel a lump form in my throat as I reach out to him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders in a tight embrace.

I pull him close, feeling the warmth of his body and the softness of his skin. I lean in close, my breath whispering against his ear as I speak. "Thank you for telling me your story, Darcy," I whisper, my voice trembling with emotion. "I'm so sorry that happened to you. You were so young, andit was so unfair."

Darcy's body trembles against mine, and I can feel his heart pounding beneath my chest. I hold him tighter, trying to offer what little comfort I can. The silence between us is heavy with emotion, and I can feel the weight of our shared sorrow bearing down on us like a physical force.

As we sit there, the bath water's warmth slowly seeps away, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps on our skin. The water's edge laps at our skin, and I can feel the soft tickle of the bath's cooling mist as we sit there in silence.

After a few minutes, I gently nudge him forward. "How about we get out of here and I'll make us something to eat?" I suggest, trying to break the spell that's settled over us.

Darcy nods slowly, his eyes still gazing off into the distance. "Yeah," he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "That sounds good."

I help him out of the bath, and we wrap ourselves in towels, the warmth enveloping us like a gentle hug. As we walk out of the bathroom, I can feel his eyes on me, searching for something - maybe comfort, maybe reassurance - and I know that I'll do everything in my power to give it to him.