Page 39 of The Raven's Alpha
As Darcy's soft snores fill the room, I finally let my guard down and allow the tears to flow. The memories of our ordeals at the borders replay in my mind like a cruel mantra, each detail etched into my brain like a scar. I relive the fear, the rage, and the helplessness, and with each replay, my emotions swell until they can no longer be contained. When I think about what I would do differently, I realise that I'm not as rational as I thought. Going off on that man would have been a futile act of defiance, likely ending in disaster for both of us. The thought of losing Darcy, of losing everything we've worked for, is too much to bear.
The injustice of it all seethes within me, festering like an open wound. The laws and regulations that are supposed to protect us are a joke, and I'm reminded of that every time I think about what we went through at the borders. Even though Darcy is my fated mate, his status as an unclaimed omega means he's still vulnerable to being taken away from me. The thought of those officials ripping him out of my truck, forcing him to leave me behind, is a constant source of fear and anxiety.
Tears stream down my face at the thought of being torn away from Darcy, of being forced to watch him suffer at the hands of those monsters, it’s almost too much to bear. My darling Darcy, my one true mate, my love... the very idea of being separated from him is a physical pain that feels like it's tearing me apart.
As I slowly come to, I'm enveloped in the warmth of my mate's body, wrapped snugly around me like a cocoon. The knitted blankets my parents gave us a comforting reminder of home, and I feel grateful to be sharing this quiet morning moment with Darcy. My mother and father, both bear shifters, have a different relationship with cold than my mate does - they're impervious to the chill, whereas his omega physiology makes him vulnerable to the frosty air of the cabin. But for now, I just savour the feeling of being wrapped up together, the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps.
I gently run my fingers through the dark silk of his hair, he stirs against me, his low hum a soothing vibration against my chest. He lifts his head, his sleepy gaze meeting mine as he blinks away the remnants of slumber. A few faint creases still decorate his cheeks, and I can't help but smile at the sight of a few strands of drool clinging to his lips.
“Good morning, alpha," he says softly, his voice husky from sleep.
"Did you sleep okay?" I ask, my voice gentle as I brush a strand of hair behind his ear. "You're shivering a bit; are you warm enough? Mum does keep the cabin chilly."
He nods and sits up, his knees resting either side of my waist, I can't help but feel a flutter in my chest. His yawn and stretch are so endearing, and the way he looks at me with bleary eyes is like a warm hug. "Yeah, I slept surprisingly well."
My mother's voice booms through my bedroom door, “I can hear you boys chatting! Come down for breakfast and let me meet my new son-in-law!”
Darcy's eyes go wide with terror as he scrambles off my lap, his tiny hands flapping wildly as he wraps the blanket around his body like a miniature burrito. He lets out a tiny squeak of panic, like a mouse caught in a trap, and I have to stifle a laugh at the absurdity of it all.
“You do know you’re fully dressed, right? And we weren’t doing anything dirty,” I whisper to my mate.
His eyes fluttered upwards in exasperation as he shoves at my shoulder, making me laugh at his antics. I reach for the floor, snatching up the battered old duffel bag and hefting it onto the bed with a soft thud
After a quick shower - alone, because Darcy had declined my offer of sharing the warm water – we quickly get dressed and make our way to the dining room. The scent of coffee envelopes me as I enter, and I can hear my parents' gentle chatter and clinking glasses filling the space. Darcy follows closely behind, his footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor as we head to the kitchen.
I anticipated my mother's typical display of affection for Darcy. But instead, she smiles kindly at him and lets my father take centre stage. With his eyes shining brightly, he extends his hand and introduces himself with a gentle firmness, his aura warm and welcoming. My mother sits back in her chair, a small smile playing on her lips as she lets my father have his moment with Darcy.
Norman Elwood is a sturdy man with a rough-hewn exterior, but as he looks at Darcy with genuine warmth in his eyes, I see the subtle cracks in his armour, revealing the deep emotional wellspring that lays beneath. It’s a quality I inherited from him, much to my mother's surprise – she often thought I got my sensitivity from her, but I knew it was my father’s influence that had shaped me.
My father towers over my little mate, and I’m proud when Darcy doesn’t cower before him. He holds his head high, but holds it slightly to the side to show respect. My father grins while shaking hishead, “None of that. While I appreciate the respect, it isn’t needed. I just wanted to introduce myself before Lucy steals you for herself.” Darcy holds one of his small hands out, ready to shake my fathers.
Again, my father shakes his head and opens his arms out wide. Darcy quickly looks at me and I nod my head. He shrugs and steps closer to my father, their arms wrapping around each other in a friendly embrace.
As soon as my father and Darcy part ways, my mother sweeps in like a gentle storm, her arms opening wide and a warm smile illuminating her face. Darcy's eyes widen in delighted surprise as he wraps his arms around her, his grin spreading from ear to ear as she showers him with affection.
The room is filled with a mixture of scents, breakfast being one of them, but it’s the blooming scent of happiness that fills my lungs.
After my mother finally let’s go of my mate, I see Darcy taking a couple of deep breaths and subtly wiping his eyes. I just hope it’s an overwhelming happiness that’s making my mate feel emotional.
My mother leads us to the table, where a feast of golden-brown pancakes, crispy bacon, and steaming cups of coffee await, the culmination of her early morning labours. The air is thick with the sweet aroma of freshly baked treats, mingling with the savoury scent of sizzling meats and the rich fragrance of freshly brewed coffee. As we sit down to eat, my mother beams with pride, her eyes shining with satisfaction at the thought of feeding her loved ones.
My mother's eyes sparkle with mischief as she watches me fill Darcy's plate, her lips curled into a playful smile. “Now why don't you fill my plate up for me?” she says to my father, her tone laced with good-natured teasing, “I've been busting my behind all morning making this food, the least you can do is serve it to me.”
My father's expression turns mock-indignant as he sets his plate down, his eyebrows raised in a comical display of faux-offence. “Look what you've done, making me look bad in front of my lady,” hisvoice dripping with playful sarcasm. He then picks up his plate, which is loaded with a generous helping of fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and golden-brown toast, and dumps it in front of my mother with a flourish. With a cheeky grin, he picks up his fork and stabs a piece of bacon, bringing it to her lips and says, “Open wide, sweetheart.”
Darcy's shoulders shake as he tries to stifle a giggle, his eyes trained on his plate as if studying the intricacies of the scrambled eggs. “Come on, sweetheart,” my father says, still teasing my mother with the bacon, and Darcy's nose scrunches up in an effort to maintain a straight face, but a tell-tale quiver in his shoulders betrays his struggle.
My mother's eyes roll heavenward as she reaches out to gently push my father's hand away, her fingers closing around his wrist like a gentle vice. “Leave me be with that awkwardly offered bacon, I think I can manage my own breakfast,” she says, her tone firm but amused. She turns her attention back to her plate, fork poised over her eggs as if daring my father to try again.
Over breakfast, the conversation flows easily, with my parents asking Darcy questions about his life and hobbies, and Darcy returning their queries with thoughtful answers. But when the topic turns to family, I can feel a familiar knot form in my stomach, and I try to steer the conversation elsewhere. Just as I'm about to deflect the question, Darcy's hand wraps around my thigh, his touch warm and gentle. “No, it's okay,” he says softly, his eyes locked on mine. “We can talk about it.” His words are like a balm to my anxiety, and I take a deep breath as he begins to discuss his complex family dynamics.
“So, I don’t know anybody from my birth family, but when I was a youngling, a family of wolf shifters took me in. We spent so many happy years together and they truly treated me as one of their own.” Darcy clears his throat and takes a couple of deep breaths,before continuing to say, “They unfortunately passed away when I was eighteen. Car accident on a patch of black ice.”
A heavy silence settles over the dining room, accompanied by the faint scent of stale air and the lingering tang of disappointment. My mum's eyes well up with tears, her face contorted in a mixture of anguish and despair. My father's eyes are wide with alarm, his brow furrowed in concern as he struggles to process the news.
My mother's hand stretches across the table, her fingers wrapping gently around Darcy's, as she attempts to offer comfort. Their bodies exude a soothing aroma, a gentle blend of lavender and berries that wafts through the air, attempting to calm his frazzled nerves.
I see Darcy's chest rise and fall as he takes a slow, deliberate breath, his eyes closing in concentration. His shoulders ease into relaxation, releasing the tension that had been building. A soft, grateful smile spreads across his face. "Thanks," he says quietly, his voice filled with appreciation.