The Possessive Alpha
Epilogue

FOUR YEARS LATER

Elle- 22 years old; Damon- 23 years old

ELLE POV

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I don’t know what’s going on with me, but it’s not pretty, my stomach convulsing with another dry heave like it’s waged a bloody war on my body without my knowledge. Goddess, what is this? Was I poisoned? It has to be poison. Someone trying to kill me slowly is the only obvious reason behind this sickness. Werewolves don’t get sick.

Leaning my head against the porcelain rim of a place my face should never be close to, I try catching my breath, my forehead pouring in sweat. A sickly sweet smell makes its way into my nostrils as another wave of nausea forces its way through me. Rolling my insides around like a boat in the middle of the ocean during a summer storm.

“Happy Matesday!” Damon sings, pushing open the bathroom door, a tray in his hand, the offensive odor oozing from beneath the plate cover. Before I can keep it in, I am purging the nonexistent contents of my stomach. Once I finish hacking up my insides, I glare at the tray in his hands.

“What’s on that plate?” I question as another unstable rumble runs rampant in my intestines. “Roadkill?” I ask, but as if it’s instant karma, another session of dry heaving resumes.

Damon doesn’t get offended by my snarky remark; instead, the same secretive smile lines his lips, infuriating me instantly. The rage rising faster than bile in my throat, “no, it’s french toast, bacon, and hashbrowns. It’s all you talked about yesterday.”

“Eww, no,” I g***n, shuddering, hoping I can go five minutes before needing to throw up again. “Get it away from me, Damon, before I-” So much for hope, as my torso bends over the toilet in desperation. “Get it out! Now!” I manage to croak out before I choke.

“Okay,” Damon says hurriedly, carrying the tray out into our room, but the scent still tingles my nose, upsetting my stomach. ‘Not far enough,’ I inform him through the link.

‘How far is enough?’ He asks, his footsteps taking him to our bedroom door; the further that plate of death gets away, the more settled I become.

‘Outside,’ I respond, leaning against the wall and enjoying the moment of peace. ‘Throw that disaster in the woods.’

Damon says nothing in response, flashing an image of throwing the tray’s contents into the abyss of the tree line behind our house. I finally close my eyes, welcoming the silence, as sweats and shivers run along my skin. A few minutes later, I hear Damon’s footsteps as he enters the room, but I don’t bother opening my eyes, feeling too weak to move.

“I think I am being poisoned,” I m**n as another wave of unrelenting unease burrows in my stomach, leaning my head over the toilet, praying for the Goddess’ mercy.

“You’re not being poisoned, Biscuit,” Damon replies, through snickers as a devilish glint invades his eyes.

“Really?” I counter, gesturing to my position of hanging over the porcelain thrown, “what else could it be? Werewolves don’t get sick, Damon!” Grabbing a washcloth from the counter, Damon wets it before bringing it to me; kneeling, he begins wiping the sweat off my forehead and neck.

“I thought the answer to your question was rather obvious, my Luna,” he says, throwing a pointed look my way like I should know what it means.

“What?” I question, not in the mood for the mind games, my patience nowhere near where it once was. “What do you know, Damon? Tell me!”

“Shhhh,” he whispers, placing his finger over my mouth and stopping my rant in its tracks, “listen.” I stop making a noise, concentrating but hearing nothing, throwing my arms up in frustration.

“I don’t hear anything,” I huff, my annoyance being the first thing to calm my stomach in hours. Damon looks at me, letting me know he sees through my bullshit. With a shake of his head, he says with judgment, “no, you weren’t. Now be quiet and listen.”

Following his directions, I push my hair behind my ears, my head tilting as I listen for the magical answer, but only hearing his and mine heartbeat. I am about to give up when the faintest flutter catches my attention. Putting all of my attention onto this one sound.

That’s when I hear the steady thump of one….two….three…heartbeats? Heartbeats? Three heartbeats? My own heart races aimlessly as the reality of the situation settles in. “No,” I say aloud, shaking my head in refusal; the initial shock begins wearing off. “No, definitely not!” I squirm, getting to my feet as Damon helps me. Turning to my mate, I point an angry finger at his shocked face.

“YOU!” I roar, the pregnancy rage consuming every cell in my DNA, each one begging for retribution, “this is YOUR fault! You and your magical p***s! Never again!” I scream; my anxiety has me pacing in front of the toilet, nauseous, but for an entirely different reason now.

Damon remains unphased by my meltdown, with an egotistical smile on his face, “don’t forget you’re the one who phrased it as a “magical p***s,” because I never will.” He roars, with laughter, bending at the waist as he tries to calm the laughter shaking his body.

“This isn’t funny,” I growl, my hands on my h**s. I glare daggers in his direction, hoping to get my point across, but he doesn’t even flinch, a large smile on his face. He seems too calm for someone who just learned we are having triplets. TRIPLETS!! Goddess, help me. “How long have you known?” I question.

“Almost two weeks…” he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets, his face filled with guilt; we don’t keep secrets. Even for things most mates would, like birthday gifts or surprises. We always spill the beans eventually. We can’t keep secrets from each other, it used to drive our friends nuts, but now that they have their mates, they have begun to understand. The history of our parents not helping the entire situation.

“I should have told you,” he says, walking closer so he can tip my chin upwards, so I look him in the eye, “but honestly, I enjoyed knowing before you. Do you want to know when I realized?” He asks, stepping forward and pulling me into his arms, his scent calming my upset stomach.

Try as I might, the anger I was once consumed by slowly dissipates into nothing as it had never been. “I came to bed late from the office, and you were dead to the world. You have been so tired, and I started worrying until I climbed into bed that night. Watching you sleep, I heard their little heartbeats fluttering so strongly; it was magical. So every night, after you would fall asleep, I would listen and talk to them. You’ll bond with our children in a way I never will. Those nights, when the entire world was at peace, listening to and talking with them was like bonding until they’re born.”

Tears are pouring down my cheeks as if a faucet was turned on, sobs racking through me uncontrollably. Wrapping my arms around him, I let the pregnancy hormones take over. The sparks and his scent calm me quickly. “You’re excited?” I ask, skeptical of his reaction because I feel nauseous, and…how the hell am I supposed to push three Damon-sized babies out of me? I wonder, glancing at the behemoth of a man standing before me.

“Of course I am excited!” He exclaims, no hidden emotion in his words, lifting me off my feet in a bear hug, “you’re giving me everything I ever wanted, and I’ll spend the rest of my life doing my best to remain worthy of you and our pups. You and them will be the reason I live, fight, breathe, and wake each day to be the best version of myself. I love you, my Luna.”

“I love you too,” I whisper, the fear and angst I felt melting like ice cream in the summer sun as my lips crash into his as push him into the wall taking more control of the situation than I normally do. Removing my lips to catch my breath, I can’t help the desire swirling between my thighs. “Wanna go to the bedroom? It’s not like you can get me more pregnant.” I tease before trotting into the bedroom, his growl following behind me.

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18 YEARS LATER

DAMON- 41 YEARS OLD, ELLE- 40 YEARS

THE LEDGER TRIPLETS- 17 YEARS OLD; 1 MONTH FROM 18TH THEIR BIRTHDAY.

DAMON POV

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Holding hands with my love, we walk into the gymnasium packed with kids from Pack Unity High on one side and visiting students on the other. The room buzzes with the impending game as players warm up on the side and the cheerleaders stretch, preparing for their cheers to the crowds.

“Can you believe the kids are seniors?” Elle asks with sadness in her voice; after this year, we can finally retire from running two successful tasks. We can hand it over to the boys, letting Alaric and Charles take over so I can take my Luna around the world. It was impossible before, but now we can see all the places we always dreamed of visiting before the kids were born.

“No,” I say, with a grin, as I lead the way to our reserved seats; being two of the most revered Alphas in history has its perks. “it seems like only yesterday you thought my magic p***s was poisoning you.” A chuckle escapes my chest as she playfully smacks my chest, but I know it’s one of her favorite memories.

Walking her to her chair, I bend down, kissing her cheek, “I told you I would never forget. I will be back. I am going to wish the boys good luck and hug Rory before the game starts.”

“Those kids have no idea how lucky they are,” she whispers, brushing her lips against mine before relaxing into her seat as Nora and Charity join our section with excited whispers and hugs. Leaving my mate with her friends, I search for my children.

Raising three pups of the same age at once wasn’t easy; the sleepless nights, endless diapers, and meltdowns seemed impossible some days. But every day, my kids made it worth it with their humor, love, and growth. I wouldn’t change a second of the movie nights or be woken in the middle of the night over a scary dream.

Finding Ric and Charles among the other basketball players from our pack. While the school consists of members from five packs, and one rogue collective, each pack tends to stick to its sport, although the twins tend to play the sports of both.

“Dad!” The boys greet me, their smiles wide, as they wrap me in a group hug, “is a mom with you?” They ask, looking around for their mother, the twins, the perfect mix of their mother, and the grandfathers, for which names they bear. Their sister, Rory, however, is all me with her long blonde- hair and bright blue eyes.

“Of course, she is here,” I say, pointing to the stadium where their mother sits with our friends who have come along to watch their kids. Noticing us looking, Elle waves, the boys returning the favor. “You guys nervous?” I ask, looking between the two, who are so identical it’s sometimes hard to tell them apart. I sometimes worry about splitting them between New Moon and Silver Run.

“Nah,” they say with a shrug of the shoulders, but I can always tell when they’re nervous; of course they are. It’s the biggest game of the season against their rivals. “Coach has us practicing nonstop,” Ric includes nodding to Matt standing on the edge of the court, clipboard in hand, and whistle hanging around his neck. Andrew stands beside him as the assistant coach, who is busy talking to a couple of the players.

“Where’s your sister?” I ask, looking around the stadium, trying to find her among the students filling the seats.

“Over there,” Charles grunts, nodding to the far left corner, a boy I don’t recognize is sitting next to her, but there is something in his features I recognize I just can’t place. The longer I stare at him, the more I swear I have met him before. “Looks like captain dickwad found her,” Ric comments with a growl. The boys are more protective of their younger sister than I am.

“Who is that?” I question, my eyes narrowing while he attempts to flirt with Rory, who doesn’t give him the time of day but remains unphased by her rejection, seeming completely content to sit next to her. There is something about him that I can’t shake, nagging at my brain and begging me to make the connection.

“Jared,” Charles replies, clearly not liking the guy, “he transferred at the beginning of the year as a senior. He seemed to zero in on Rory the second he stepped on campus. Wherever she is, he isn’t far behind; it’s f*****g creepy.”

“Yeah,” Ric throws in, “if interpack fighting weren’t a guaranteed way to get expelled, I would have kicked his a*s already. He can’t take a f*****g hint.”

“What pack does he belong to?” I ask, watching as Rory turns her head to the boy sitting next to her, clearly annoyed by his presence, but he does nothing but smiles, leaning in to whisper in her ear while a blush crawls over her skin. “I am about to send him back in a f*****g body bag.” A wave of anger growing in the pit of my stomach while my b***d pressure rises. Red spots blurring my vision, my fists itching to teach this little punk a lesson.

“Diamond Claw,” Charles answers, my head snapping at him at the answer, an eerie feeling causing sweat to break out over my skin. “Apparently, he is taking over the pack from Alpha Eli since he and Luna Maddie cannot have children. None of their adopted children are Alphas, and they needed someone to take over.”

“What’s his last name?” I grind between a clenched jaw, fists balling at my sides, already knowing the answer to my question, but I need them to say it aloud. No wonder he looked so f*****g familiar.

“Staller. Jared Staller,” Ric answers, wearing a look of concern, but all I see is red. Elle may have forgiven Jonah for what he did all those years ago, but I never will. Turning the twins, wearing my serious Alpha face, I give them strict instructions.

“You keep that little d**k bag away from your sister, understood?” I ask, my voice holding a tone they know better than to question. I don’t use it often, but when I do, they know to fall in line. Without further explanation, I walk down the side of the court, leaving the boys to their warm-ups in search of the section Rory is sitting in.

Taking the steps two at a time, I make it to her row; standing on the stairs, I call her name, but my glare of death doesn’t leave the teenage playboy sitting next to her. “Rory,” I bark a little harsher than I intend to, causing her to jump as her eyesight jumps between Jared and me. “Go sit with your mother. Now,” I command, she starts to protest, but one look from me has her shutting up and doing as she is told.

Without looking at the other students sitting in the vicinity, I command them to leave and come back in a few minutes. Waiting as the teenagers shuffle past me, getting eye level with the teenage replica of a man I once knew, my words and tone dripping with fear. “Stay away from Rory,” I growl in warning, “I still owe your father for a transgression he made years ago. I have no problem making you collateral damage if you don’t stay the hell away from my daughter.”

Without waiting for a stuttering and bumbling response, my feet thunder down the bleacher steps finding my family and friends at the other end. Jared is staring after me, pissed, but there is still an arrogance I can’t wait to beat out of him. Greeting, Elle. In our section, I sit next to her, taking her hand into mine so the tingles can calm the unsettling feeling brewing in my gut.

THE END……………..