Too Beautiful for the Alpha

It has been almost a week since I've seen James and I can't help but worry. What if he's never coming back for me? What if it was all a lie? I can't die here alone. I just can't. These last few days I've put all my eggs in one basket. Tonight I sit in bed, waiting like the past few nights. My tiredness has been scared off by excitement and anxiety and a thumping heart.

After another hour, I can't help but lay down. As much as I fight myself, my eyes can't help but close—I'll open them abruptly once I feel myself falling asleep—but soon I'm oblivious to everything around me. I am submerged in a dreamland.

It feels like only a few minutes later when there's a gentle hand on my arm. At first, I think that I'm dreaming something incredibly realistic, but when my eyes open and the familiar shadowed corners of my bedroom appear, I immediately look up. James is sat on my bed, looking down at me. He takes his hand off of my arm and says quietly, "I'm sorry for waking you."

With my brain still asleep, my eyes roll to the small clock on my bedside table from when I was thirteen. It's a retro, pink, ugly clock whose smoldering digits tell me that I've been asleep for almost an hour. I then peer back to James and blink a few times before slowly sitting up in my sheets, not registering anything. "You're here?" I mumble, rubbing my puffy eyes.

"Yes. I'm sorry I had to come so late."

His voice wraps around me like ribbon. "That's okay. Are we leaving now?"

"No. Not tonight," he says softly. "I should let you get back to sleep."

"No," I protest, sounding more awake. "I'm fine. Don't go." He nods, but before he can speak, my tired mind finds it best to bring up the things that have been bothering me the past few days. "Why did you do it? Sleep with her, I mean."

James looks off at the open window. "I don't know anymore," he says then looks back to me. "I'm sure it was to make myself believe that I didn't need you. To forget about you. To stop thinking about you. To force myself to believe I could be with someone else."

I rest against my headboard and bring my knees to my chest, not willing to let go of the warmth in my bed. The open window allows the cold bleed inside. James seems to notice this because he gets up to close it. "Can you?" I ask.

He slides the glass down and turns to me. "I can't forget about you. I can't get you off of my mind." He nears me and sits back down.

"Can you be with someone else?"

"No," he breathes out. "I can't."

Satisfaction fills me. "I want to go back to your pack. I don't want to be here."

"Is it really so bad?"

I sigh. "My mother tells everyone that we didn't work out, so now she's trying to introduce me to other people."

James looks interested. "Other people?"

this guy

"Noah? Who's Noah?"

so my mom is trying to set us up.  It's sad and awkward. She thinks I'm crazy because I won't let you go. But she doesn't know all of this; what's

the wanted connection. "You don't know how bad I

sneak off of the land with

"What?"

subject, "please. I don't want to stay here any longer. What could be so bad between you and Alpha

"It's complicated."

cross my arms.

next time. I can't promise anything, but things are looking good as

I can hear the crickets outside. I can't help but yawn. "Aren't you

squeezes my hand that is still in his two. "I can't be. I have to be alert to slip past the guards at

one in the morning." On a limb, I say, "You should lay down. At least for a bit." He gives me an unsure look, so I scoot to the

back of my head,

starts, but I stop

unknowingly, almost telling him what I want. He steadily moves closer until his forehead is against

angry, more openly wanted. It's slow. It's full of caution. I'm taking him back to the beginning as if this is our first kiss, and the other one didn't exist. This is

inside of me. James knows what he's doing, and I don't know if I like that or not. I think I will,

gently in unison until he begins to pull away. James' hand brushes past my jaw and falls once we're apart. He looks into my

watch as he lays down beside me. He looks calm, tired but relaxed. My

it awkward if I didn't. The sight of his head on my pillow seems unreal, and I can't help but contemplate the chances of this being a dream. My younger self would surely think so. A man in this bed of denial—back then it was as likely as the earth being

me, and

deep and endless, but

the

know what it would feel like to wake up next to him. He is my green-eyed girl, he sneaks

moments longer just to soak it all in until it completely fades away. I don't want to wait another five days to see him. I want him now, all the time, no boundaries, no pack issues, no

choices he's made have been wrong ones, but I have to try at least and understand. He slept with her to prove to himself that he doesn't need me. He does. He needs me. Shouldn't I be happy? Why can't I stop thinking about the green-eyed girl and her creeping steps

She could have asked who I was. She could have told James that she knew I was there. She could have apologized that night when I told her to leave. She's not sorry. She's

against my pillow, I focus in on the diary and roll away. Are all women touched by those men some version of insane? If he touches

head is