Page 8 of The Raven's Alpha
The tension between us is palpable, a living thing that crackles with energy. And then her eyes flash up at me again, and for a moment, we're locked in a silent understanding. But I'm not going to let her get away with this. Not again.
"You need to leave," I say again, my voice firm.
Her smile grows wider, and for a moment, I think she's going to laugh in my face. But then she rises from the bed, her movements slow and deliberate.
"Fine," she says, her voice dripping with malice. "I'll leave."
"I'm leaving for a walk, and I expect you to be gone by the time I return," I say, my voice firm and commanding.
I don't give her a chance to respond before I turn on my heel and march out of the room, my anger and frustration driving me forward. The door slams shut behind me, leaving Cleo's defiant gaze burning in my mind.
As I stalk through the house, I can feel my emotions simmering just below the surface. My fists are clenched at my sides, and my heart is pounding in my chest. But I'm not going to let Cleo get away with this. Not again.
I burst out the back door into the bright sunlight. The air is cool and crisp, filling my lungs with a sense of freedom. But even as I take a deep breath and begin my walk, I can feel Cleo's presence lurking in the shadows
I rip off my clothes, my hands trembling with rage as my body begins to shift. The transformation is a chaotic mess, my muscles contorting in ways that feel both exhilarating and terrifying. I roar with fury, but all that comes out is a pitiful whine. It's a sound that makes me want to crawl under a rock and hide.
As I stand there, I'm hit with a wave of shame. Why can't I just be strong for once? Why does this always have to happen to me?
Gazing up at the sky, I whisper a heartfelt plea to the Goddess, asking her to weave her magic and bring my fated back to me. I promise to support him, and to work on building trust and understanding in our relationship. I long for the warmth of his touch and the comfort of his presence. I pray that our reunion will bring us closer together and fill our hearts with joy.
Dropping down to all fours, I run through the snow, the crunch of my paws on the frozen ground the only sound that breaks the silence. The sweet, tangy aroma of ripened berries hangs heavy in the air, a scent that's both familiar and intoxicating. Catching more of his scent, my nostrils flare as I try to deeper inhale the delicious smell, and I'm struck by the realisation that he's been hiding his true nature from me. As I run through the snow, my heart racing with excitement and fear, I realise that I've been searching for him for so long, and now that I've found him and lost him again, I'm not sure what to do next. The revelation hits me like a ton of bricks, making me stumble through the snow as I try to wrap my head around this new information.
As I stand in the snow-covered clearing with the cold air nipping at my nose, I realise my mate is a paradox, a puzzle that defies my every attempt to understand him. Over the years, I've imagined what type of person they would be, what species of shifter they would be. But none of my expectations have come close to reality. My mate is nothing like I expected, and I'm left feeling like I'm stuck in a dream from which I can't wake up. As I think of him, I feel a mix of emotions: surprise, confusion, and a hint of disappointment. I'd built up these expectations in my head, and now they're crumbling around me.
When I took in his human form, I was struck by the stark contrast between his diminutive size and the bold, black-painted nails on his fingers and toes. He was so much smaller than my six-foot-nine height, maybe smaller than five feet. He was a tiny, delicate thing. When I gazed at my mate's small, vulnerable form, I felt a surge of protectiveness and concern wash over me. It was as if I'd been waiting my whole life for this moment, this chance to care for and nurture someone. I felt an overwhelming desire to enfold him in my arms, to feel his small body pressed against mine and know that he was safe. I wanted to wrap him in my arms and shieldhim from the cold air, to cradle him against my chest and feel his warmth spread through me.
Sitting by the frozen lake, my chest starts to tighten with anxiety. I force myself to take a few deep breaths, trying to calm the storm brewing inside me. The cold seeping into my bones seems to match the chill in my heart. I feel a pang of guilt for not being able to imminently fix this, for not being able to protect him like I should. I know I need to figure out a plan to find him, but what if he doesn't want to be found? What if he's hiding from me? As I sit here, trying to clear my head, I know that once I get home, I'll need to focus on finding my fated.
I trudge back home through the snow, my fur fluffed up against the cold, but my bones still feel like they're being slowly frozen by the chill of the lake. I'm grateful for the warmth of my home, but my mind is still out at the lake, searching for answers. I shiver as I walk through the door, my teeth chattering against each other as I try to warm up. I move closer to the fire, I can feel its warmth seeping into my bones, chasing away the chill that's settled in my very marrow.
Standing in front of the roaring fire the sickly aroma of Cleo lingers in the air, making my stomach turn. I feel a surge of revulsion as I catch a whiff of it, and I quickly open all the windows to clear the air. The cold air rushes in as I do, and I can hear the distant call of the forest animals, the melody a stark contrast to the sugary scent that still clings to my home. After taking a few deep breaths, I head towards my bathroom and I hop into the shower, letting the warm water wash away not only the chill but also the lingering memory of Cleo's presence.
As I emerge from the shower, the scent of her is still there, but before it can take hold, I light some candles and let the sweet aroma of berries fill my cabin. The warm glow of the flames casts a golden light on the wooden walls, and for a moment, I forget about everything else. The juicy fragrance of berries envelops me, and Ifeel a sense of peace wash over me. As I inhale deeply, I can almost imagine my little bird perched on my shoulder, watching me with his big, round eyes. When I open my eyes again, I'm reminded that it's just artificial scent, but it's close enough to transport me to a place where everything feels right with the world.
After a night of restless sleep, I toss off the covers and abandon any hope of a lie-in. How can I even think about resting when I know my mate is out there, probably seething with resentment? The thought alone makes my stomach twist with anxiety. When I sit up in bed, I'm struck by the faint hum of our connection - like a buzzing in my mind, even though we barely touched. It's as if the threads of our bond are weaving together, like a delicate tapestry, slowly forming a pattern that's hard to ignore. Even though we barely made contact, the link between us is already palpable, and that realisation gives me enough hope to cling to. Maybe - just maybe - I can make things right between us
I spent the evening in my cabin, lost in thought as I tried to come up with a plan to track my little bird. But my mind was blank, and my attempts at problem-solving only left me feeling frustrated.
I know that I need to do the thing I hate most: leaving my cabin and socialising with the villagers. I’m not looking forward to it, but I know it’s necessary if I want to get any closer to finding my little bird.
As I pull into the parking lot behind my bakery, the creaky springs of my rusty old truck protesting every bump, I can't help but think of him perched up on my roof, his bright eyes gleaming with curiosity. I push the memory away, focusing on the task ahead. I step out into the crisp morning air. The sunlight casts long shadows across the pavement as I walk towards the group of business owners gathered outside the coffee shop. I decide to take a chance and ask them if they've seen my little bird, hoping that maybe someone has caught a glimpse of him flitting about the village.
When that doesn’t help, I decide that going to see the local shifters is the best idea, so I head towards the bookstore. I push open the creaky door, a warm golden light spills out onto the street, beckoning me into the mystical realm within. The air is charged with an otherworldly hum, and I can feel my senses heightening as I step across the threshold. The scent of old parchment and mystical spices wafts through the air, transporting me to a world beyond this mortal coil. I'm enveloped by shelves upon shelves of ancient tomes, their leather bindings creaking softly as they whisper secrets to one another. The sound of whispering pages is like a gentle chant, drawing me deeper into the heart of the bookstore. As I make my way deeper into the shop, I can feel the weight of magic emanating from every shelf, every corner, every dusty book
The scent of books and aged paper are strong, but the aroma of magic that I would describe as smoky incense is almost overpowering, albeit comforting. I come here at least once a week, buying a new book each time I finish my current read. The store owner, Ezra, is a polite young guy and is one of the few omegas in this town that have always been kind to me.
“Ezra?” I call out to the open room, my voice echoing off the walls.
Ezra jumps up from underneath the desk, his brown hair is tousled, as if he's just rolled out of bed, with strands sticking out in every direction. His cheeks are adorned with sleep lines and his eyes are still half-closed, giving him a sleepy look. Despite his dishevelled appearance, his height is still striking - at least six feet tall, making him one of the tallest omegas I know. He stretches, arching his back and extending his arms over his head, and for a moment, I can almost see the mouse shifter lurking beneath his human form.
Stepping closer to him, I notice the faint scent of fresh coffee wafting from his clothes, mingling with the earthy aroma of the book store. He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and says "Eddy,hey. I didn't hear you come in." His voice is warm and gentle, like a summer breeze on a sunny day.
I lean forward to peer behind his desk, and my eyes land on a tangled mess of blankets scattered across the floor. The sight makes my brow furrow in concern. "Have you been sleeping here?" I question, trying to keep my tone neutral.
His eyes dart upward, as he shakes his head vehemently, "What? No, of course not!" The words are laced with a hint of desperation, and his voice cracks slightly on the second syllable.
I raise an eyebrow, sceptical. "Don't lie to me, Ezra. I can see the exhaustion etched on your face."