Love Letters from an Alpha (2 page)

And yes, he trusted V, but only to a point. She was his
employer, not his friend. Hell, he didn't even know her real name, and her
allegiance definitely lay with Owen's admirer. With Luther.

"Luther."

Owen couldn't help but shiver as he tested the name on his
tongue. This was crazy. It was positively insane. He shouldn't be considering
it, but God help him, he was.

For months, he'd been coming to work more in anticipation of
the letters than because of his need for the paycheck. And yes, he knew lines
written on a paper didn't mean anything. It could easily be a strategy to hurt
him, to get him alone as part of some ploy. Owen had been hurt too much in the
past to accept the sweet words blindly.

And yet, a tiny part of him, that part that loved the true
scent of the rose and the grainy feel of the paper beneath his fingertips,
couldn't let go. The fact of the matter was that if he refused this meeting, if
he shied away from what his admirer had to say to him, he'd always regret it.
Owen didn't think he could live with that.

It might be rash and it might be a horrible idea, but all
Owen had to do was close his eyes and imagine his admirer sitting at the table
while he danced. He had to ask—why? What was so special about Owen? What did
Luther see when Owen danced for him? Was any of this real?

He had to know. Bracing himself, Owen started to change out
of his costume and hoped he wasn't making a terrible decision.

****

Luther cautiously sipped his scotch, barely registering the
smoky taste despite the expensive brand. He was distracted. Ever since he'd
sent in the letter, his wolf had been restless, pacing inside him like a
proverbial caged beast.

He had a lot of practice holding back his instincts,
especially when it came to this particular situation. For months, he'd done
exactly that, holding back, trying to control his impulses when everything
inside him screamed to claim the man he knew belonged to him.

Instead, he came here every night and watched the Incubus
expose his body to the eyes of the lustful humans—a beautiful body that no one
but Luther should have to see. Luther would have been very tempted to hunt down
some of the more daring customers, if the Incubus—no, Owen—didn't always look
at him when he danced.

The letters had come naturally. Luther wasn't a man good at
expressing emotion, but there was only so much he could bottle up inside before
he exploded. At first, he'd thought Owen would reject them, or at least ignore
them, but no such thing had happened—and Luther found himself writing the
letters again and again, eagerly awaiting the replies.

Some people might have deemed it romantic, and maybe it was.
But it was also cowardly, a way to fill the hole in Luther's heart when he'd
been unable to take that final step. The whole debacle with the Lone Wolf Pack
had showed him that quite clearly. He couldn't hide behind love letters
forever. If he truly loved and respected his mate, he had to choose—either let
him live in peace as a human, or take the chance and believe.

Tonight, he'd finally made the choice. Of course, there was
always the possibility that his mate would refuse. Correspondence was entirely
different to actually meeting someone face to face, and in Luther's eagerness,
he might have come out a bit more eager than he'd have liked. For all he knew,
his mate might be thinking that he was a stalker or an axe murderer of sorts.

Grumbling under his breath, Luther drank down the rest of his
scotch and ordered another. As the refill arrived, a very familiar and welcome
presence joined him by the bar.

Luther immediately turned toward his longtime friend.
"Did you deliver it?"

Victoria nodded, her familiar dark eyes glittering with
something knowing and sad. "Of course. By now, he must have found
it." She sighed. "How long are you planning on doing this, Luther?
It's not healthy, neither for you, nor for him."

"I know that," Luther replied quietly. "And
you know as well as I do that I had my reasons."

"Your mother wouldn't have wanted you to shy away from
your mate because of what happened to her," Victoria whispered, her voice
barely audible despite Luther's advanced senses.

Luther's hold on the glass tightened, and he quickly set it
down before he cracked it. The fact that Victoria had even mentioned the
delicate topic spoke volumes of her concern for Owen.

But then, she had always made it clear that she liked the
young human. In fact, if Luther had been anyone else other than her best
friend, she'd have probably torn him apart before allowing all of this to
continue for so long. Proving his point, she continued, "I know her loss
won't ever stop hurting, but she and your father loved one another."

"And that only earned them both death, because they were
so different," Luther couldn't help but hiss out.

"I think that, if they had a choice, they'd say it was
worth it."

She was right, Luther knew that. He'd always known it, even
when he'd been unable to keep his distance from Owen. Owen, who was human, like
Luther's mother had been. He'd loved her so much, and it was so easy to imagine
losing Owen the same way he'd lost her. For that reason, he'd tried so hard and
done his best to put some sort of barrier between them. He'd been truly
convinced that it was the only way to protect Owen. Now, he couldn't feel that
way anymore.

"It's going to end tonight, V," he told his
longtime friend, "one way or another. It depends on him. It's all in his
hands."

Victoria blinked in surprise. "What? Why? What did you
do?"

"I asked to meet him. I want to tell him, to
explain." He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I want to do this right, V, to
start over, to give him everything he needs. He shouldn't have to take his
clothes off for a living. I know you take care of him, and I'm grateful for
that, but..."

Victoria reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly.
"A lot of the men who work here are in trouble one way or another. You
know that the only thing I want—the only thing I've ever wanted is to help
them. But this time around, there's only so much that I can do. You're the one
that he needs."

"Maybe," Luther whispered, "but that just
means I failed him all the more."

Victoria didn't reply, and Luther was thankful for that. Out
of everyone in his life, she was the only one who didn't bullshit him. She
didn't blame him for his choices—she was more aware than anyone of his
reasons—but neither did she justify them or provide empty assurances. In a way,
that was more comforting than anything she could have said.

One of Victoria's bouncers finally approached just as Luther
finished his second drink. "Ink is leaving," the man whispered in her
ear.

She nodded and dismissed her employee with a wave. Luther was
already on his feet, ready to go. Owen hadn't approached Victoria to ask her
about him. What did that mean? Was it a good thing or a bad thing?

"Good luck, Luther," his friend told him with a
smile. "I expect you to let me know what happens—and if I need a new
dancer."

Her tone suggested that she believed Owen might be amenable
to what Luther had in mind, but he couldn't afford bringing his hopes up. If he
did and if it turned out his mate rejected him, he would never recover. Instead
of replying, he kissed her hand, then turned on his heel and left the club.

He waited at the entrance of the alley that led into the back
of the establishment, knowing that any time now his mate would be showing up.
He could practically feel it, buzzing over his skin, the awareness of Owen's
proximity increasing more and more. He closed his eyes and let his senses flow,
falling back onto the powers given to him by his hybrid nature.

With his mind's eye, he watched the alleyway. At first, he
could only see the bouncer, and while he could have pressed further, it turned
out that he didn't have to. The door opened, and his mate stepped out of the
club.

It wasn't the first time Luther had seen Owen without the
incubus mask. He'd tried to rein in his power, but sometimes, it simply refused
to obey, and he found himself drifting, seeking out his other half. An ability
of astral projection could be really difficult to handle for a werewolf who wanted
nothing more than to be by his mate's side.

Owen didn't linger to chat with the bouncer, which was a good
thing, given that Luther would have probably had a bad reaction to that.
Thankfully, his mate was already heading his way, so Luther quickly released
his hold on his astral self and gathered his composure, affecting a nonchalance
he did not feel.

Finally, Owen came out of the alleyway, only to freeze in his
tracks when he saw Luther. A few seconds ticked past, and then Owen took a deep
breath and crossed the rest of the distance between them. "Hi," the
human whispered, fidgeting slightly. "I take it you're... waiting for
me."

Luther swallowed around the knot in his throat, his aloof
demeanor flying straight out the window. Yes, he'd been waiting—but longer than
Owen imagined, and longer than he should have. He'd wanted to have a mate for
centuries, and then, when he'd found out the mate in question was human, he'd
reacted in a way that now filled him with shame and frustration.

He couldn't hope to articulate that, not just yet. The words
that would have come easily when written on paper refused to be let out through
his vocal cords. "Yes," he said lamely.

They succumbed to silence, neither of them moving a muscle.
Luther's wolf was snarling at him to do something. This was definitely not the
way he'd wanted the meeting to go. He didn't want this awkwardness, this
silence that threatened to swallow all of Luther's hopes.

But the fact of the matter was that they were both very aware
of their current circumstances, which were peculiar to say the least. They
hadn't met at all, but Owen was perhaps one of the few people in Luther's life
who knew his doubts and burdens. However, he most definitely did
not
know about Luther being an Alpha werewolf—and half-human, to boot—and he was
already wary because of the way Luther had chosen to approach this.

Well, Luther hadn't come this far to back down. "I see
you got my letters."

That drew a small, bashful smile from Owen. "Yes. Thank
you. I... I really loved the roses."

"I'm glad. I was hoping they weren't too much like a
present for you to accept them."

"Even if they had been, I don't think I could have
refused." Owen reached into his coat and retrieved the carefully preserved
rose. He caressed the bloom and leaned forward to take in the perfume of the
flower. "They're so real."

Luther was momentarily hypnotized by the beautiful sight of
Owen's full lips. They were almost as red as the flower petals, and Luther ached
to taste them, to claim their owner. But he and Owen weren't ready for that,
not nearly ready. They had to take things one step at a time, and the roses
were a good enough ice breaker.

"Real is probably a good descriptor. I've been growing
them for years."

"Truly?" Owen looked surprised. "You grow them
yourself?"

Luther nodded. "In honor of my mother. She used to love
them..."

That was a bad thing to bring up, since it summoned sad
memories and caused his mind to make unpleasant connections. He quickly fixed
it by changing the subject. "In any case... Have you had dinner? I'd like
to take you out, somewhere nice."

His offer was not received with as much enthusiasm as he had
hoped. "I'm not exactly dressed for a date," his mate replied,
slumping his shoulders.

"Don't worry about that," Luther answered. When Owen
didn't seem convinced, Luther decided to be completely honest. "Here's the
thing. I'm... I'm not good at explaining, but I want to, and I want you to be
comfortable with me while we talk. We could go to Burger King if you'd rather,
but I just... I think you deserve so much more. For months, I've wanted to give
you more than I could, and I... I suppose I'm frustrated."

"You don't have to give me anything," came the soft
reply.

"I know." Moon be blessed, this was so difficult.
Humans didn't understand an Alpha's instinct to provide for his mate, and the
situation twisted that urge into something entirely different. "Just one
chance, Owen. Please trust me. I promise, I won't let you down."

It was a gamble, because his mate had no real reason to put
his faith in Luther. Thankfully, it worked. After a small moment of hesitation,
Owen nodded. "On one condition. You're going to have to tell me how you
know V, and why she told you my name when it's supposed to be
confidential."

Luther's eyes widened. Fuck. It looked like his mate wasn't
one to take any shit, and for all his Alpha instincts, his balls almost
shriveled and died at the piercing look Owen gave him.

"It's a very long story, and you might not believe
it."

"Well... I guess you're just going to have to try
me."

Luther nodded and prayed to the moon that he wouldn't make a
huge mistake. "Very well. Now come on. I'd rather not have this
conversation here."

He offered Owen his arm, and this time, his mate didn't
hesitate. He took it, and the moment they first touched, electricity sparked
between them. Luther's cock had already been rock hard—he lived in a constant
state of sexual torment whenever he was around Owen—but he almost came in his
pants at that simple contact.

Owen wasn't exactly immune to it either, releasing a soft
gasp that tempted Luther more than he could have ever expressed. It was just as
well that he had a lot of practice in restraint, because it seemed his mate
would test every bit of that control.

Reining in his wolf and his arousal, Luther guided Owen
toward his limo. As he walked, he wondered how the members of the Lone Wolf
Pack had managed to prepare their mates for the revelation that everything they
knew was a lie. How was he supposed to tell Owen that he was a werewolf and
they were soul mates? He had no idea—but he hoped when the time came, they'd
both be ready. From this point on, there was no turning back, for either of
them.