The Alpha’s Pen Pal (Crescent Lake Book 1)

WESLEY

I fell asleep on Saturday night with Haven in my arms and woke up Sunday to an empty bed.

As soon as I realized Haven was no longer in our bed, I jumped up and out of it, my eyes scanning the vacant room. My lycan growled, my heart leaped into my throat, and I gripped my hair in my hands as I tried to catch my breath.

Had it all been a dream? Her coming back and accepting me, making love to me in front of the mirrors, letting me provide a meal for her for the first time as my mate—had I imagined it all?

I yanked the bathroom door open, looking inside to see if she was in the shower or getting ready, but the lights were off, and the room was empty. I darted to the walk-in closet, but again, the lights were off, and the room was empty.

“Fuck!” I muttered under my breath, sinking down onto the small ottoman in the middle of my closet and putting my head in my hands.

The whimpering in my mind from my lycan did nothing to temper the flare of distress in my body. It had to have been real. I couldn’t have dreamt up something so vivid, so erotic.

I took long, deep breaths through my nose to calm myself so I could think clearly and rationally. Haven’s scent still lingered in the space, so it helped to calm me, even though her absence was the reason for my distress.

Then I realized the scent was strong—stronger than it would have been if she hadn’t been there with me during the night.

My eyes popped open, and right away, I saw where she’d put her things next to mine. It was just a few items of clothing and a pair of shoes that must have been in the bag Reid grabbed. But still, they hung with my things, which meant I hadn’t imagined anything. She really had been there.

My lycan and I relaxed, knowing we hadn’t imagined it, but another thought entered my brain. What if she’d changed her mind and left? What if she’d decided it was all too much for her and she didn’t want to be a part of it, didn’t want to be my mate and my luna?

But my eyes landed on her backpack. The one Reid had brought back from her place. I snatched it up, and there was stuff in it, but it was much lighter than it had been when Reid had handed it to me.

I sighed in relief and realized I could smell bacon wafting down the hall from the kitchen.

I stood up and took off down the hall and into the kitchen, pausing in the doorway to look at my mate. She stood in front of the stove in just my T-shirt as she cooked breakfast and drank coffee, and she looked content, beautiful, and perfect.

Mine.

My lycan and I both relaxed more at the sight of her. Then his tail wagged when he realized she was making food for us, just as we had made food for her the night before. I was sure she didn’t understand the significance of the gesture, but it didn’t matter to us. All that mattered was she was there, and she was taking care of us.

I dropped her backpack and closed the distance between us. My body pressed against her back. I wrapped my arms around her waist and dipped my head into the crook of her neck to breathe in her scent, to finish convincing myself and my lycan that she was really there, really mine.

Her body in my arms was too good to be true. The way she fit with me, the way she relaxed into me anytime I touched her—it should have been a sign to me sooner that she was always mine.

“You scared me, Sugar Plum,” I whispered in a hoarse voice, my lips tickling her skin and my breath making her hairs stand on end. “I thought I had dreamt it all or that maybe you decided to leave me,” I confessed, holding her tighter as I voiced my fears aloud.

“It wasn’t a dream. And I wouldn’t do that,” she said, turning her face towards mine, her hand rubbing my arm. “I’m real, and I’m here for good, Pal.”

I gave her a soft kiss, and in my mind, my lycan did that weird thing where he couldn’t decide whether to preen, pant, purr, roll around, or wag his tail. He was so ridiculous around her.

“I’m here for good too, Haven. I promise,” I murmured into her mouth as I squeezed her.

Okay. I guess I was pretty ridiculous around her, too.

She set her mug down on the counter and went back to cooking our breakfast. My nose returned to her neck, running up and down the length of it and absorbing her scent with large inhales.

“Why do you do that?” Haven asked as she turned the bacon over.

“Do what?”

“Sniff me so much.”

I chuckled. “Because you smell fantastic,” I said, nuzzling further into her neck.

She laughed and folded in on herself to try to escape me. “I mean, I figured I didn’t stink if you were constantly smelling me. But you mentioned something about your lycan and my scent?”

I placed one more kiss on her neck, took one last inhale, then tucked my chin over her shoulder and squeezed her again. “Scent is an enormous deal for us. In general, but even more so when it comes to our mates. The scent of our mate is strongest to us and can help relax and calm us and our animals.”

She pursed her lips as she kept working on the food. “But you would do it even before you knew we were mates?”

I nodded. “Yes, well, even then, you smelled amazing. And my lycan and I had already decided we wanted you to be our mate, with or without the mate bond. So, me smelling you so frequently worked to calm us and memorize your specific scent. But the night Lennox attacked you, as soon as I smelled you on Sebastian, I knew you were mine in every way,” I explained.

“So what do I smell like?”

“Before, when I didn’t know you were my mate, you smelled like jasmine and something fruity that I could never figure out. The night when I smelled you and recognized you as my mate, I realized it was jasmine and plums.”

Her head snapped to look at me, her brows raised. “You’re joking.”

“Why would I make that up?” I chuckled.

“Plums? Seriously?”

“Seriously!” I replied, laughing even harder.

She shook her head, but a small smile teased on her face as she turned back to the food. “Is that why you smell so good to me, then? Or is that just your cologne?”

“I don’t wear cologne,” I said. “Most shifters don’t. It interferes with our scents and our ability to smell properly.”

“Oh,” she muttered. “Well, you smell fantastic too,” she said.

“What do I smell like?” I asked her, curious to hear her answer, to know how much of my scent she could distinguish.

“Hmm… like… something sweet, smoky, spicy, and woody all at once,” she mused, her brow furrowing as she thought about what she’d said. “Bourbon!” she exclaimed. “You smell like bourbon,” she concluded in triumph, then asked, “Can you grab me some eggs?”

I pulled away from her, regarding her with curiosity, as I walked to the fridge and pulled out the carton of eggs to hand to her. I wasn’t sure how much of the bond a human normally felt or how distinctive our scent would be to one if they were our mate. That would need to be a question I asked Dr. Russo or my dad.

After I handed her the eggs, I picked her backpack up off the floor, and she caught me out of the corner of her eye, her cheeks tinting pink. “Sorry,” she murmured. “It’s just a habit. To have some things ready just—just in case.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear and avoided looking at me.

“I’m not upset,” I said, walking over and touching her shoulder. “I understand why.” She gave me a weak smile and covered my hand with hers. “What do you usually keep in it?” I asked. “And where do you want me to put it?”

“Just in the closet is fine,” she replied. “I keep a change of clothes or two, usually some toiletries and my baby blanket in there,” she told me.

“The one they found you in?” She nodded. “Can—can I see it?” I asked in a quiet, hesitant voice.

“Of course,” she said, turning to look at me with a soft smile.

I smiled back, then unzipped the bag and looked inside. I knew instantly which piece of fabric was the blanket because it was soft and worn and smelled the most like her.

I pulled the purple blanket out of the bag and let it unfurl naturally as my breath caught in my chest.

The purple quilted fabric was embellished with gold and white embroidery of stars and phases of the moon. It had her name, “Haven Kenway,” stitched into one corner.

The center of the blanket had three concentric circles. The smallest was dark purple with stars, the second was white with embroidered moons, and the outside was light purple. The positioning of the circles mimicked an eclipse.

It was a beautiful blanket. And the symbol in the center was familiar. I had seen it before but couldn’t remember where or when. But it was definitely a symbol I’d seen somewhere.

“This is what they found you wrapped you in?” I asked her breathlessly.

“Yeah.”

“It has moons on it.”

“I know,” she replied as she continued to move around the kitchen and work on our food.

“Haven,” I said, and she froze at the tone of my voice, her head turning to look at me. “Moons are like—our symbol,” I told her. “And this one, this specific design,” I continued, pointing at the middle. “I swear I’ve seen it before. I’m almost positive.”

“Where?”

I groaned out in frustration. “I don’t know. It’s right there, right at the front of my brain, but I can’t pinpoint it,” I said, pressing my fingers into my forehead. “But I’m sure I’ve seen it before.”

She furrowed her brow, then shook her head and laughed. “It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a blanket. Moons are a common motif in baby stuff. You probably just saw it in a store or something. And besides, wouldn’t I know if I was a werewolf too? Wouldn’t I have changed into one at some point?”

I pressed my lips together for a moment. “I guess so, yeah. But other supernaturals use the moon in their symbolism and lore, too.”

“Other supernaturals?”

“You know, witches, vampires… they’re the others who use the moon, mostly.”

“Did you just say vampires?”

“Well, obviously, you’re not a vampire. You don’t have the desire to drink blood, and you can be outside whenever you want,” I mused.

“But vampires are real?”

“Yeah. You know a few, actually.”

“What? Who?” Her eyebrows raised along with the volume of her voice.

“Peter and Ramón.”

“Wait, what?” she sputtered. “Peter and Ramón are vampires?”

“Haven, I am a lycan. You watched me shift into an animal. And you’re surprised that vampires are real, too?”

She blushed. “Well, when you put it like that…” she muttered. “Okay, we’ll put a pin in the whole ‘vampires are real and my ballet director is one’ thing. But seriously, Wesley, wouldn’t I know if I was something special or magical? That wouldn’t stay hidden or dormant for twenty-one years, would it?”

I thought about what she said. She had a point. But between the symbols on the blanket and the way she could feel the bond between us and the fact Lennox went through all that trouble to try to mark her—even if it was in his lycan form—well, I was having a hard time believing it was all “just a coincidence.” And if there were scent blockers made by witches that we could take, then surely there was a way they could block a shift or an aura.

“I’m going to call Dr. Russo,” I said, grabbing my phone off the charger in the kitchen where I’d left it the night before. “You’re probably right, but he can run tests on your blood just in case. Just so we can know for sure.”

“I mean, I think it’s going to be a waste of your time and his, but go ahead,” she shrugged.

I sighed. She was probably right, but I dialed Dr. Russo’s number anyway. He preferred phone calls since mindlinks could interrupt his concentration if he was in surgery or something.

He answered on the first ring. “Wesley! What can I do for you? How is Haven?”

“That’s actually what I was calling you about,” I said. “We were wondering—well, I was wondering if you could test her blood for supernatural DNA?”

“And why did you want me to do that?”

“Well, it seems like a good idea to do just in case, you know? I mean, another lycan had his sights set on marking her. You said she was healing faster than you expected. And she can feel the bond—my emotions, the tingles. She can even identify my scent,” I explained.

I left out the info about the blanket and the moons since I couldn’t remember exactly where I’d seen that symbol before.

“Well, it isn’t unusual for a human mate to feel the bond, too. It’s not something most werewolves know, though, since human mates are so rare, but they can feel the bond just like we can,” he said. “The tingles, the emotions, the scent—it’s the same for them. That’s the magic of the mate bond. It wouldn’t be fair if they couldn’t feel it just because they’re human.”

“Oh,” I said. “That’s good to know.”

“But. I do agree that with everything else you mentioned, it is worth looking into. Those things in isolation wouldn’t prompt me to investigate, but combined…” He trailed off for a moment, then continued. “Which is why I already ran the tests on her blood.”

“And?” I asked, gripping the edge of the counter.

“And I have the results.”