Alpha Queen (Claimed by Wolves #4) - Callie Rose Page 0,4
be here. I can’t do this.”
Saying the words out loud makes it feel real. Like I’m just a kid playing dress up, pretending I can fill my father’s shoes when I can’t even look at a picture of him without falling apart.
I’m hiding behind my hands and fighting back tears when the front door opens. I don’t need to look up to know who it is, because I can smell her, I can taste her scent on the air and feel the waves of affection rolling off her as she makes her way through the living room to my side.
As her quiet footsteps move toward me, I let her come, not trying to hold back the despair or wipe away the few drops that have worked their way down my cheeks. With other people, I’m not comfortable letting them see my raw grief, but it’s different with Sable. She sees me—not the alpha, not the man who should be holding it all together while his world collapses.
Just me. Just the man who lost his dad.
As she stops silently in front of me, I finally leave the safety behind my hands and look up at her, reveling in how beautiful she is even when she’s a tired, emotional wreck. She’s got moonlight-pale skin, luminous blue eyes, and flaxen gold hair that gleams even in the dim light of my dad’s house. Right now, she’s paler than usual, and she looks wan with dark circles beneath her eyes. But she’s not alone in that. We all look pretty wrecked thanks to the battle.
I sit up a little and drop my arms, and she doesn’t hesitate to crawl onto my lap. My arms wrap around her automatically, and I lean back into the comfy, misshapen cushions with her, burying my face in her neck. Her skin is warm like sunshine, and she smells like the outdoors in the best kind of way. I wasn’t sure where she disappeared to this morning, but clearly, she was taking a stroll in nature.
I could probably use the same.
For several seconds, I just breathe against her smooth skin. Her small, delicate fingers caress the side of my face, then move into my hair, massaging my scalp as she murmurs, “I’m here. I’m right here.”
My grief wells up, and the tears build until I can’t hold them in anymore. Her innocent comfort soothes me, both through her motions and through the connection we share where her affection radiates like a phantom limb. But her love also breaks the dam inside me. I start to sob.
I cling to Sable, because she’s my only life raft. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be strong and how to grieve at the same time. Is it even possible? I don’t feel strong. I feel like every inch of me is shattered, broken beyond repair.
Sable doesn’t pressure me. She just holds me, her fingers moving softly through my hair, her cheek resting against my head and her knees braced on either side of my hips as I cling to her. She doesn’t try to clear away the pain but simply lets me sit with it, giving me her time and her comfort so that I’m not alone. Being here for me in a way nobody but my father ever has.
God, I’ll never be as good as him.
I cry until it hurts. I cry until my throat is raw and my eyes burn and the muscles in my face ache. And through it all, she holds me.
After a while, my grief ebbs to its usual underlying pang, and with it, my tears. Sable’s neck is soaked beneath my face, though she’s made no move to wipe it off.
I draw a deep, shaky breath, my throat tight and raw. “I love you, Sable.”
She swallows quietly, and I can feel pain and joy and tenderness through the bond we share. “I know. I love you too.”
“I wasn’t ready.”
“I know,” she says softly, stroking my face. Her bell-like voice is a balm, like cool water on a stinging burn.
“I knew this day would come. I knew he was going to die. But dammit, I wasn’t fucking ready.” My voice turns gruff on the last few words, and Sable’s arms tighten around me. “I don’t know if I’m glad he died in the battle or not. Maybe it’s fucking worse he died then instead of living out the rest of his natural life. Maybe it’s better. Fuck. I don’t know.”