Page 16 of Fated Alpha Baby

Grunting as I close the door with a deliberate thud, I cross my arms and move toward the window in the study, suddenly feeling suffocated.

“Talk, Amalia,” I say without looking at her. “I’m guessing this has nothing to do with Marcus Hale or the alliance. I know you already spoke to my beta. So make it quick. Nothing else is important enough.”

“Why was your head researcher asking about the witch with a certain power?”

I stare out the window at the village nestled behind the main mansion, eyes flitting between faces, heads, activities, and the chatter I can’t hear from up here. As a distraction, my mind conjures up voices, conversations, and jokes flying between the village folk at the bottom.

A village full of women—witches, to be exact. Among them are the alphas of the surrounding packs, accompanied by their betas and a handful of soldiers from all sides.

“The Bitterroot Valley Council believes that if the alphas find their true mate, the mating ritual will bring back the strength we’ve lost because of the demons. It worked for Red Moon and Silver Stone.”

“And what is it that you believe, Alpha Conan?”

I clench my hands into fists at my sides, narrowing my eyes at the village below. “This isn’t about me. It’s about what the council believes is best for the valley.”

“It is about you, Conan. That is why you are here, is it not? We both know that the Bitterroot Packs hardly need this alliance. You wield magic already, apart from shifting. You have an advantage over the Helena Valley packs. And Marcus Hale?” she chuckles. “He is hardly a threat, and he is useless if he does not talk. The demons are quiet for now, but it is only a matter of time before they strike again. We will find their entry point into our realm. And we will find out what they want and how to stop them. With or without Hale.”

I take a deep breath through the uncomfortable silence that stretches. “What are you getting at, witch?”

“You are here to find your fated mate, Alpha Conan. Even with all your resistance and denial, you are still here, where your fated mate wields both the power of fire and the power of air.”

“I’m not interested,” I grumble through gritted teeth, just as I spot the head of a young girl walking down the street with a skip in her step.

What stands out like a sore thumb is the color of her hair when she stops beneath a streetlamp, her tresses appearing as if they caught fire.

Copper hair.

The recognition is instantaneous, but it’s like I’ve walked into a memory of something that happened twenty years ago.

My breath catches in my throat, and Amalia’s voice as she replies becomes a distant, faded white noise in the background.

The woman standing beside the little girl, holding her hand, turns to face her, and that’s when I see it.

She doesn’t need to step into the light for her hair to catch fire; even appearing with a dark head of hair, the shape of her eyes, the shade of her lips…it’s unmistakable.

Before I can stop myself or even give thought to what I’m doing, I’m walking out of Amalia’s study and marching down the stairs with the kind of determination that I thought was lost to the demons draining our powers and dampening our spirits.

I walk with fierce steps until I’m out of the mansion and in the backyard that leads to the village beyond it. I count three lights from the bottom of the paved street, but the woman and child have already walked ahead, and they’re passing the fifth streetlight already.

My heart hammers in my chest, my breath shallow, and watching the woman’s back as she disappears ahead of me becomes too much to bear.

I stop, hearing nothing else around me, sensing nothing else but her. Smelling nothing else but her.

The richness of sweet lavender hanging in the air where she’s already passed beckons to my inner wolf as strongly as it had eight years ago.

“Hannah!” I call out naturally, no doubt in my voice, and the woman stops in her tracks.

My heart skips a beat.

“Hannah Young?”

She turns around then, tossing her hair over her shoulder as the child remains firmly at her side.

Our eyes meet, and it’s like the world stops and time stands still.

“It is you…” I murmur as shock drains the warmth and color from my face.

“Mommy?! Who is that?” the child asks her, and tugs on her hand, forcing her to break eye contact with me, leaving me reeling from the shocking discovery that she’s here at all.