Mated To The Wrong Alpha
Chapter 36

Arthur put his arm around her shoulders, his thumb gently rubbing over her upper arm. When he spoke, his voice held both regret and self-reproach. “I can’t believe I reacted that strongly to Thomas knocking you down. I acted without even thinking and I never do that. I’m the Alpha, the one that’s supposed to be in control. But when I heard that growl, I lost it. My only thought was to protect my mate. I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

“I wasn’t frightened, at least not exactly. Surprised, worried, wondering what the hell was going on. But frightened of you? No.”

“I’d never hurt you.” “I know.”

He tightened his arm around her and she turned in towards him, leaning her head against his chest. They sat there in silence, absorbing the warmth and essence of the other.

Ava savoured the moment. This was what she wanted. Time when they were just together as a normal couple. She wanted an actual relationship, where they talked and shared their ideas and feelings. Maybe Arthur wanted that, too. The intense emotions of a few minutes ago seemed to have loosened his tight self-control. While she was reluctant to ruin the companionable silence between them, she didn’t want to let this opportunity go by. Gathering her courage, she wet her lips, then spoke softly. “Arthur, this afternoon—”

Simultaneously, he began to speak as well. “You know—”

They both stopped and laughed self-consciously. Arthur laid a finger on her lips. “Let me, please? I’m not good at sharing stuff and I’ve finally got my nerve up, okay?”

She nodded. Her news wasn’t that earth shattering really. It could wait. This was Arthur’s time.

“I try to be a leader of the twenty-first century; calm, reasonable, civilized, setting an example for the others to follow. I want my pack to move forward and fit into society, but sometimes, like tonight, my instincts take over and I find that I’m more wolf than man. Don’t get me wrong, being a wolf is an important part of who I am; it’s just not always easy to keep it under control.”

“I think you do a fine job balancing the man and the wolf.” She idly traced the pattern on his shirt.

“I’m glad you think so. Me, I’m not so sure.” He inhaled deeply then surprised her by seeming to change the subject. “Has anyone told you about my parents?”

“Well, I’ve heard some stories…” She answered hesitantly, not sure if she was or wasn’t supposed to know.

“My father was a rogue wolf; a throwback to days long gone. The kind of rogue who could never settle down or integrate into a pack. He dragged us all over the countryside, spending a month here, a month there. I think my mother was the only one who could tolerate him for any length of time.” Arthur tipped his head up and stared at the night sky as if a picture of the man was forming in the stars. “He had his good points. He could be spontaneous and fun, always coming up with ideas for a new adventure. Apparently, he was quite a charmer of the ladies and a rather smooth talker too, which was a good thing because it got him out of quite a few scrapes.

Unfortunately, even his glib tongue wasn’t always sufficient and his temper was what lingered on in everyone’s memory. We were kicked out of more places than I care to remember because of him.”

“That must have been awfully hard on you.”

“It had its moments. We—Ryne and I—became pretty good at reading the signs and staying away when he was in a mood. Mom was great and did what she could to keep us fed and safe, but it didn’t always work.” He paused and seemed lost in his own memories. She could easily imagine him as a child, undernourished and afraid, his dark hair all tousled, while his amber eyes solemnly assessed the mood in the house, wondering if it was safe or if he should hide. It was so foreign to her own experiences. She wished she’d been there to offer him some comfort. Her father might not have had time for her but she had always had the necessities and felt safe in her home.

Arthur came out of his reverie and turned his head so he could look in her eyes. “Sometimes I worry about how much of my father is in me. I don’t want to be him, Ava. I don’t want his anger to be part of me. I fight to keep that side buried. But sometimes, like tonight, it escapes. I worry about what could happen.”

“Nothing happened.” She reassured. “You stopped yourself.”

“No, I didn’t. You stopped me, which, by the way, was a very brave but foolish thing to try and do. I could have accidentally hurt you.”

“I wasn’t brave. I just reacted. And no, you wouldn’t have hurt me. You don’t have it in you. You stopped yourself. If you’d really intended to kill Thomas, I couldn’t have prevented it.

You would have ripped his throat out before I even got to my feet.” Arthur looked sceptical but she continued on.

“You’re a good man, Arthur. You didn’t hurt Thomas tonight. You didn’t kill Ryne in the challenge. You aren’t your father. Yes, you have a temper—every werewolf does, especially the males—but you control it, not the other way around.” She paused, trying to clarify her own thinking. “I think we’re all walking a tightrope, trying to fit in, to control our wolf and not to be discovered. I’m always amazed at what a good job we do and how few people actually know we exist.”

He studied her, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight, before leaning forward and pressing a slow k**s to her forehead. “You’re very clever you know.” “I always thought so.” She smiled up at him.

“Thank you.” “For what?”

“For being you. For trying to make ‘us’ work, despite the fact that you were thrown into this.” He took her hand and laced their fingers together. “I know I’m not good at expressing myself, but I hope you know how glad I am that you’re here with me. The pack is my extended family, but I’ve never really had anyone that was just mine, until you came along.” He brought their entwined hands up to his mouth and kissed hers gently. “You’re my mate, Ava.” He whispered the words, his soft tone making them even more meaningful.

She felt her eyes getting misty. There was so much feeling evident in Arthur’s gaze and voice. He might not be saying the exact words that she wanted to hear, but she was sure the emotion was there, just unspoken. With his upbringing, he’d probably learned never to get too attached, to keep a wall of reserve around his heart and never to say how he really felt. But he was trying now, in his own way.

“I want ‘us’ to work, too.” She whispered back, pressing a soft k**s to his hand, before wrapping her other arm around him and resting her cheek on his chest.