Page 3 of Lonely Alpha
I really had to do my research on this one, but we weren’t supposed to start until a few weeks in the future. In the meantime, I had some other things to tweak, and there was always a laundry list of other things to take care of.
The sun had already set once I got home. I’d thought ahead and ordered myself some food. The temptation to splurge and get my favorite oily, spicy Chinese dishes was strong, but I chose a salad and chicken instead, with the only treat being a slice of key lime pie.
With dinner devoured, I decided to take a walk to clear my mind. My office job didn’t give me much in the way of exercise. The standing desk helped some, but mainly it made my lower back ache.
Once my walk was done and it was nearly bedtime, I retrieved my mail and plopped onto the bed, not interested at all in TV or any noise for that matter. I liked the silence of the night.
I sighed and scrubbed my hands through my hair. William had loved the nights too. Of course, for obvious reasons, but also, in our hometown, the night sounds were right out of a storybook. The singing cicadas. The croaking frogs. The wind whipping through the trees.
It was a great place to grow up, but it simply held too many memories of William, the mate who forgot about me once he was overseas.
I’d had him. For life, I’d thought.
And then, he was gone.
In an attempt to redirect my thoughts, I thumbed through the mail. Bills. Solicitations. Credit card offers. Nothing new. But the last envelope caught my eye. It was pale blue and I noticed, as I turned it over, that it was sealed with a wax bear
I didn’t even realize people did that anymore. Seemed like Shakespearian stuff to me.
When I unfolded the letter inside, I put away the rest of the mail.
It was handwritten. From someone named Franklin. He was offering me a trip of a lifetime.
Free of charge.
I turned over the page, thinking it was one of those timeshare condos, but in more clever packaging.
It was from a place called the Bearclaw Inn. Why did that ring a bell?
A quick online search revealed the reason that name sounded familiar. There was someone who used to work in the firm who moved away abruptly. He had gone to the Bearclaw Inn and met his mate in a whirlwind weekend of bliss and romance.
The man who owned it, Franklin, according to the search, had some kind of supernatural ability to match up mates. He was a widow himself but made it his life’s mission to set up others for their happily ever after.
Oh. I stood up as the shock of it all kicked into gear.
This wasn’t just an invitation for a weekend away.
This was an invitation to change my life.
“It can’t be,” I whispered to myself and put the invitation down, along with the envelope. I paced my bedroom, racking my brain for answers.
I’d had a mate. Had, being the operative word. William was my omega. There was no doubt in my mind, and certainly not in my animal’s mind, about that fact.
No one leaves the Bearclaw Inn unmated.
I did some more research online and found that there hadn’t been a single pairing that hadn’t worked out.
Could it be that Fate would smile on me again? That she would give me another mate. I knew plenty of alphas and omegas who lived out their lives with broken hearts, being rejected for one reason or another, and they didn’t get another mate.
So, why me?
There was a chance I could have a chosen mate. The thought hadn’t eluded me over the years. My brother had a chosen mate. His mate passed away after they were mated only a few months. His heartbreak was deep, but his new mate Nick had been the balm to those wounds.
I couldn’t imagine myself in the arms of anyone but William. Couldn’t even think about pressing my lips to anyone’s but his.
But I was damned lonely. I was surrounded by people in this new city where I lived and yet, sometimes I was a rock in a river. Everyone went about their lives around me, but my heart stood still.
My wolf had taken most of the impact of the rejection. He had all but gone dormant inside me. Once in a while, I would feel a spark or he would alert me of some danger, but more than anything, he was deep inside our shared consciousness, mourning—dripping with sadness.
