Taming the Alpha

by Mandy M. Roth

  When he didn’t come up with anything of interest quickly, however, he began widening his search area. He moved outward in ever widening concentric circles, like a stone thrown into a lake, growing less and less confident that he was going to find anything the further away from the snare’s location that he got.

  Eventually, he had to admit to himself that the search was a bust. If she’d been traveling with someone else they must have either gone for help or long since moved on, he decided. And if she’d been on her own, she’d hidden her campsite too well for him to find.

  As he neared the cabin he noticed that the sky was growing visibly darker, the exact opposite of what it should be doing at this time of day. He saw that black storms clouds were piling up around the peaks to the south and he knew what that meant; they were in for a bit of a blow before long.

  The woman was dressed and waiting for him on the front porch when he returned.

  “Did you find anything?” she asked.

  He shook his head.

  The look of disappointment in her eyes told him that she hadn’t remembered anything on her own either.

  “I’m afraid our search for your missing memories is going to have to be put on hold for a bit,” he told her. “We’ve got a big storm on the way and its best if we batten down the hatches and wait for it to pass before we do anything else.”

  She helped him put away the quad and then carry extra firewood into the house so that it would be on hand when they needed it. Michael fetched several buckets of water from the collection tank outside and brought up some meat and vegetables from the root cellar. By the time they had gotten all that done the wind had begun to blow in earnest and the rain was coming down in dime sized drops that drummed on the roof above.

  “How about a game of cards?” Michael asked.

  They were in the midst of their third game of Gin Rummy when a particularly vicious peal of thunder shook the house to its foundations. Rather than be alarmed, Michael laughed.

  “You find this funny?” his guest asked.

  “Actually, I do. Jess used to love thunderstorms.”

  He was reaching a card to replace the one he’d just put down when he realized what he’d just said, but by then it was too late.

  “Was Jess your wife?”

  He picked up the card, slotted it into his hand. Without looking at her, he said, “No. My wife’s name was Marnie. Jess was my daughter. She was six when she died.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He believed her. He’d heard the exact same phrase from too many people not to be able to pick out those who were sincere from those who were not. Stranger or not, she genuinely cared. Maybe that was why he kept talking.

  “I used to tell her that when she heard a really big peal of thunder like that it meant that the giants were bowling in heaven. Since we lived in Southern California, we had thunder showers a lot and sometimes I’d catch her staring up into the clouds. She never came right out and said it, but I know she was trying to catch a glimpse of the giants as they got ready for their next round.”

  “She sounds like a lovely girl.”

  “She was,” he said wistfully. “She really was.”

  “And your wife? What was she like?”

  Instead of answering right away, Goodfellow got up, went to the cabinet, and took out a bottle of JD. He grabbed two glasses and returned to the table, pouring out a drink for both of them without asking. He took a long sip and then picked up his cards again.

  “My wife was every man’s dream and my best friend all rolled into one. Just knowing her made me a better man.”

  As the game continued, Michael went on, talking and drinking, reminiscing about the life he’d left behind. Maybe it was because she was a stranger and he’d never see her again once she left here. Maybe it was the alcohol, loosening his tongue. Maybe it was simply because he had someone to talk to after all this time alone. He didn’t know. All he knew was that it felt right to do so and that was enough for the time being.

  Michael drank and talked, talked and drank, and by the time evening rolled around he was slurring his speech and barely able to stand. His guest helped him to his feet and guided him over to stand next to the cot. She undressed him down to his underwear and then helped him into bed.

  Five minutes later he was out cold.

  And then, for the third time in as many nights, Michael Goodfellow began to dream.

  ***

  He, Marnie and Jess were in the car, on their way home from the theater after seeing the latest animated film his little girl had fallen in love with like she always did – this one had a redheaded mermaid who fell in love with a human prince and despite all of the obstacles, like breathing air, would get her happily ever after – when he glanced down at the gas gauge and saw that they were almost out. There was probably enough in the tank to make it home, but not enough to make it in to the Stationhouse in the morning.

  “Might as well stop now rather than to try and squeeze it in before work in the morning,” he said to Marnie, who smiled and nodded in agreement. It made sense. She liked to be prepared. No surprises. No unforeseen circumstances.

  He knew there was a gas station a couple of blocks away, so at the end of the next block pulled the SUV over, swung around the corner and into the station, slowing to a stop alongside the outer row of pumps closest to the street.

  He caught Jess watching him in the rear view mirror.

  He winked and said, “Be back in a minute, Ariel.”

  Her giggly laugh was still ringing in his ears as he got out to fill the tank.

  Of course, the card reader on the pump wasn’t working. That would have been too easy. He was going to have to take it inside and let the clerk do it.

  Sighing in annoyance, he turned away from the pump and started walking in that direction only to stop short when the largest red fox he’d ever seen came trotting out of the shadows and crossed directly in front of him. It turned to look at him as it went past and he would have sworn there was something familiar about it.

  He blinked and when he looked again it was gone.

  “That was weird,” he said to himself, and then shrugged it off as just another strange LA experience. Lord knew he’d had his fair share.

  He paid for the gas and then returned to the car, making faces in through the window at Jess while he pumped the fuel into the tank. When he was done, he got back in the SUV and headed for home.

  While Jess was getting ready for bed she asked him to read her a bedtime story. It was getting late, but he could never say no to a request like that, so he told her to run down to the bookshelf in the living room and pick something out. When she returned, she was carrying The Fox and the Hound, the story of two unlikely friends that get lost in the woods together. It had been one of Jess’ favorites the year before, but she hadn’t asked him to read it for awhile.

  Must be the night for foxes, he thought, as he began reading.

  Afterward, when he had tucked her in and retreated the bedroom he shared with his wife, he found her waiting there for him, an inviting smile on her face.

  “My turn for a little attention,” she said.

  “Always,” he promised, leaning down to place a feather-light kiss on her lips. They parted slightly as he teased them open, his tongue trailing a salty path across her lower lip as she playfully nipped at it. He smiled. There was a filter to the world, a wash of color that turned her almost sepia beneath him, like an old photograph. He reached out with his right hand to cup her cheek and draw her closer to him. Marnie arched her back, rising up from the bed to meet him half way, her own hand reaching around behind his head to tangle in his hair and draw him closer, pulling him down on top of her.

  She breathed into him. He took her in, joining before they joined. His breathing thickened, the heat of her body against his, the rapid but shallow rise and fall of her chest up against his, the frission of skin on skin, the almost animalist pant that her breath became as her grip became more insistent,
more forceful, not letting him go.

  “Never let me go,” he whispered around her kisses.

  He meant it. That was all he wanted in life. Whatever life they had left to come, all he wanted was for it to be shared.

  “I promise,” she whispered. “You and me, forever.” She took his hand away from her face and placed it over her heart. “In here.”

  He mirrored the gesture, placing her hand over his heart, “In here.” He agreed. And she smiled up at it. It was a beautiful, heartbreaking smile. He couldn’t believe how fortunate he was. How many people found love, true love, the kind of love that could turn the world into such a wonderful color?

  “Love me,” she urged, the duel meanings obvious.

  “Always,” he said, lifting her nightgown over her head and just taking a moment to look at the secret geography of her body; the rise and fall of her breasts, perfect tear drops in the moonlight, the shadows where her muscles gathered, and her belly button, half hidden by the bed clothes as though it were the most intimate secret of her body. He kissed his way slowly down from her throat to her belly, light butterfly kisses, charting every inch of the map of her.

  “Yes,” she whispered, as her fingers tangled in her hair and the sheet fell away.

  His kisses moved down, across the taut curve of her belly and around onto the shallow of her inner thigh.

  He breathed in the fragrance of her, so many memories flooding his mind as his kisses became heavier, more urgent, exploring with the familiarity of the years they’d shared, but with the need of a man just discovering this uncharted shore. Her breathing quickened. Her grip tightened. And just as her body arched, trying to draw him on, he moved on, questing, hands and lips rising back up the taut arc of her body towards her throat.

  He wanted her, wanted her desperately, but he refused to rush things, wanting to milk every moment for all he could, to enjoy each and every sensation as if it were all new again.

  She’d apparently had other ideas, however, for she rolled him over and took control, climbing atop him and letting her legs straddle him as she used her hand to guide him home inside her.

  He woke with a start, only to find that the dream wasn’t entirely a dream; the young woman that he’d rescued was in bed with him, her naked body straddling his own as she moved up and down atop him in the same gentle rhythm from his dream.

  He moved to protest, but she put a finger against his lips, shushing him softly, still moving all the while, and it had been so long since he’d been with a woman, never mind one as beautiful as this, that he just let himself go and gave in to the sensations, let himself be carried away on the storm that was building between them.

  Her hair slipped around either side of her face as she leaned down toward him, her eyes gleaming hungrily as she kissed him, and when they came up for air she said, “Grace. My name is Grace.”

  ***

  When Michael awoke the next morning, he found himself alone. The bed beside him was empty; the hollow where she’d slept still warm from her body heat.

  He pushed himself up into a sitting position and looked around the cabin, expecting to find her in the kitchen but she wasn’t there. He frowned, then called out her name.

  “Grace?”

  There was no reply.

  He slipped naked out of bed and grabbed his jeans off the floor, pulling them on. Despite all the drinking he’d done the night before he was surprised to discover that there were no ill effects. In fact, he felt better than he had in ages. His head was clear, his body was relaxed, and for the first time in a long while his heart didn’t ache with all the grief and pain he’d been carrying with him for so long.

  Instinctively he knew that he had Grace to thank for it all.

  He didn’t know how, or why, he just knew that somehow she’d saved him from himself.

  Which was all the more reason he had to find her.

  He walked across the cabin and stepped out onto the porch, thinking that perhaps she’d taken a cup of coffee outside to enjoy the morning. But the porch, and the lake beyond, were empty.

  Where on earth had she gone?

  He looked toward the trees nearby and called, “Grace?”

  ***

  She stood naked in the shadows of a nearby pine, watching him through the branches. She could hear him calling her name and smiled at the sound of it, but she made no move to respond. Instead, she closed her eyes and opened her sight.

  The darkness that had filled him was gone.

  In its place was a misty green light, the color of moss in the morning when the sun reflects off the dew coating its surface, and she knew upon seeing it that he was now safe to continue his walk in the world, to resume the journey that had been interrupted by the tragedy and pain he’d encountered along the way.

  She felt a strong sense of contentment at the sight, for more than one reason.

  As she released her power, her hand slipped to her lower belly, to the tiny light that she knew was growing there.

  Lights, she corrected herself.

  Her life and his life were now intricately entwined and she was pleased at that. She had to leave now, but she would be back when the time came for the twins to be born and she knew that she would find him waiting here for her, waiting for the future that they could have together.

  She found herself looking forward to what that future might hold.

  There was just one last thing she had to do first.

  She shifted into her other form and then stepped out into the sunlight where he could see her.

  ***

  “Grace?”

  Where on earth had she gone?

  He caught a flash of red out of the corner of his eye and turned in time to see the fox step out of the woods.

  It was the same animal as before; he knew it down deep in the heart of him.

  And in that instant all the little clues came rushing together and he at last understood.

  As he stood there, gawking in amazement and trying to make sense of it all in his mind, the fox cocked its head to one side, drew back its lips in what could only be considered a smile, and then slipped away into the underbrush with a flick of its tail.

  He watched it go with an odd sense of contentment, somehow knowing that it, she, would come back again.

  And he vowed then and there to be waiting for her when she did.

  The End

  About the Author

  J.S. Hope is the pseudonym of two USA Today bestselling writers with more than a million books in print between them.

  www.authorjshope.com

  Hail Mary Honeymoon

  by Inez Kelley

  Josie and Wade had it all in their marriage. Then disaster hit. As both struggled to cope with the fall out, they grew further apart until they crumbled as a couple. Wade proposes a last ditch effort to save their marriage. They need to play a game, the Hail Mary Honeymoon. They will either both win it all or both will lose everything.

  Chapter One

  There should be more emotion, more pain, more anger. Something. Anything. But only a hollow ache gripped Josie’s belly as she zipped the suitcase closed. Her hands shook though. She stared a moment, watching the tremor. The stone in her engagement ring twinkled in the light, almost as if it was laughing at her. Beneath it, the wedding band squeezed her finger too tightly, reminding her how much she’d changed since he’d slipped it on her. Twisting the rings off, she laid them on Wade’s pillow.

  A moment of panic gripped her but it passed quickly as she lugged the heavy case off the bed and onto its rollers. Maybe she wasn’t as numb as she pretended because tears blurred in her eyes as she looked over the bedroom that hadn’t been hers in nearly a year. It still had that title; our room, but she hadn’t slept there in so long it was almost a foreign country. She cleaned it, changed the sheets, put her clothes into the closet and dresser alongside his but he slept alone. At least in this room.

  Her stomach clenched at that thought. She had no reason to believe he was see
ing anyone else but she knew Wade as only a wife could. He was an extremely sexual man with an appetite she’d reveled in once upon a time. They’d barely kept their hands off each other from the moment they’d met. Fiery, exciting, the stuff of secret fantasies, their sex life had spawned another life. And everything had changed in a single moment.

  “Mamamamama…”

  Leaving the case in the hallway, Josie walked into nursery with a ready smile. Sadie was buck naked, standing in her crib and dancing in excitement.

  “Where are your clothes, Tatertot?”

  She tossed her hands up and flopped back on the mattress. “All gone.”

  “You’re turning into quite a little a little stripper, child. This has got to stop before you start eyeing poles and shoving dollar bills in your diaper.”

  Josie scooped the soggy diaper off the floor and stuffed it into the pail. A pink onesie that proclaimed the wearer the Princess of Everything was dangling from the dresser knob. Josie tossed it into the empty laundry bin before lifting her daughter out of the crib.

  “Come on, silly girl, let’s get you dressed then we’re going to go see Grandma.”

  Sadie clapped and babbled then discovered a stuffed bunny on the changing table. It didn’t take long to get her diapered, changed and to clip two yellow hair barrettes into her short black curls. Josie’s fingers slowed, stroking through the satiny swirls. She had her daddy’s hair, black as coal and soft as down. Once more, her eyes flooded with tears she refused to let fall. Swinging the bulging diaper bag over her shoulder, she grabbed the princess duffel she’d already packed and hefted the baby onto her hip.

  “Hungry? Mommy has some macaroni and cheese ready for you.”

  “M’cheez,” Sadie squealed.

  Sadie was at the age where she wanted to feed herself, even if she wore more than she consumed, so after strapping her into the highchair, Josie set out some finger-appropriate foods and filled her sippy cup with milk. She managed to feed the squirming little a girl a decent amount of chopped up pasta then left her to her self-feeding while she loaded the car with their suitcases. The stroller took up most of the trunk so she shoved the luggage into the backseat.