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Authors: Anya Byrne

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BOOK: Love Letters from an Alpha
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"Everything is fine," Luther replied tightly.
"I can take care of this. Set our order aside. I'll be in my office."

The man knew better than to question him. After all, he
belonged to Luther's pack, like all the employees here, and he was well aware
of the importance of not questioning Luther.

It was almost ironic. Luther had never actually hurt any of
the members of his pack—except one, and that had been enough. People still
remembered what had happened to the culprit behind the murder of Luther's
parents, a particularly enthusiastic enforcer. Coupled with Luther's challenge
of the then-Alpha, his rise to power had been very memorable, and at any other
time, a satisfying episode to remember.

Right now, though, Luther was too worried about his mate to
focus on anyone else. With a heavy heart, he carried Owen to the office. A
small part of him immediately felt more relaxed once they were in his private
space, surrounded by his things, in what he'd come to see as his den of sorts.
He set Owen on the leather couch and knelt next to him, wondering how to
address this.

Owen was obviously scared, and Luther didn't blame him. It
couldn't have been easy for Owen to realize Luther was indeed a werewolf,
especially since, letters aside, they were practically strangers.

Luther set his forehead on the leather couch, right next to
Owen's arm. He wanted to touch his mate so badly, to hold him and comfort him,
but he knew it would not be appreciated, and he had not right to take
advantage.

His wolf stirred inside him, the instinct to protect quickly
becoming too strong for Luther to contain. Before Luther could bury his
feelings deep inside himself, a jolt went through him—and suddenly, his mind
drifted away from his body, toward Owen.

It wasn't something he did on purpose. He would have never
invaded Owen's consciousness like that. But the pull of his mate's soul was too
strong, and Luther surrendered to it, a slave to Owen's lure.

The next thing he knew, he was back in V's club, and his mate
was on the stage, in his Incubus outfit. Everyone else was indistinct—and the
scene behind them blurred slightly as Luther landed in the center of the stage,
on four paws.

Owen blinked at him, stopping mid-routine. He didn't say
anything. Instead, he swallowed nervously, taking a small step back, obviously
frightened.

Luther whined and bowed his head, his mate's rejection
clawing at him like a wild, angry beast. He tried to control it, to breathe
through the pain and remind himself Owen couldn't understand or identify his
astral self.

Thankfully, he managed to shift with just as much ease as he
did in the physical world. Once he was in human form, he lifted his hands,
trying to convey harmlessness. "It's okay, Owen. Don't be scared."

"Seriously?" Owen glowered at Luther. "You
didn't just have your potential love interest confess to being a werewolf on
your first date." He scoffed, turning away from Luther. "Oh, wait.
That's exactly what happened. What the fuck am I doing here?"

Luther was momentarily confused, and it gave Owen time to
continue. "I mean, no matter how much I want you, this is seriously crazy.
And I know you're my subconscious and all that, but even you have to agree with
me. Right?"

"I'm not your subconscious, Owen," Luther replied
softly, knowing this would most likely not earn him any points with his mate.
"I'm really here."

Owen turned so fast he almost tripped over his own feet.
"Wait, what?"

"I'm a half-breed werewolf. We have some extra
abilities, and mine is astral projection."

Owen narrowed his eyes at him. "So on top of everything
else, you've invaded my mind."

Luther winced. "It wasn't on purpose. I was worried
about you, and it just sort of... happened."

This was never going to work, he realized. His mate didn't
believe him, and he was entitled to his doubts. Luther had ruined things, and
he could not expect Owen to ever forgive him.

"You're right," he said, his shoulders slumping.
"I should have never pushed this onto you. You deserve better. I was
selfish, and I'm sorry."

He dared to cross the distance between them, everything
inside him screaming to lean over and kiss Owen. But that would just further
violate Owen's trust and make things even worse, so instead he cupped Owen's
cheek gently. "You're safe. Don't be scared. I won't stalk you or
anything. I understand and respect your decision."

He took a step back and braced himself for what he was about
to do. "When you wake up, a car will be waiting for you to take you home.
As my final gift to you, I will cover your parents' debts. I know you don't
truly want to work at V's place, and I've held back because I didn't want you
to hate me for intruding, but it's a moot point now."

Owen opened his mouth, probably wanting to reject Luther's
gift, but Luther didn't allow it. If he didn't hear Owen's final plea, perhaps
he could fool himself into believing Owen would not resent him for this.
Tugging at his astral self, he retreated from Owen's mind and returned to the
real world.

When he opened his eyes again, he was kneeling next to his
couch, with his mate still unconscious. It was just as well, he supposed. Some
bonds simply weren't meant to be, and Luther had hesitated for too long. Owen was
better off on his own. He could find a human lover who'd make him happy—and
even if just the idea of it made Luther ache inside, Owen's well-being was far
more important than his own.

Yielding to a final impulse, Luther pressed a kiss to Owen's
brow. Reminding his wolf of what needed to be done, he forced himself to pull
away. He found a quilt on the armchair and covered his mate with the fluffy
blanket. Finally, he memorized the image of Owen's beautiful face, then turned
away and left the room.

He would not have a mate, but Owen would be safe and happy.
That was what mattered.

Chapter Three

 

One month later

Owen stood in front of the now familiar club, biting his
lower lip in indecision. He hadn't been here in ages, and he was as of yet
uncertain if he'd be welcomed back. Still, he had no other choice, not if he
wanted to find the answers he so desperately needed.

Trying to project a confidence he didn't feel, Owen entered
the alley he'd walked down so many times.
 
As always, Sonny was there, guarding the entrance. He greeted Owen with
a grin. "Hey Ink. What's up? Boss lady said you might be dropping
by."

"Did she?" Owen wondered if he should be alarmed.
He himself hadn't been quite sure if he would come or not.

Sonny nodded. "Go right in. We've all missed you."

It would have been easier to stick around and chat with
Sonny, but he hadn't come here for that. He'd come for answers, and he'd get
them, no matter what.

Taking Sonny's words as permission, Owen made his way to V's
office. He'd only seen the place twice—when he'd been hired, and when he'd
quit. He hesitated in front of the door, wondering if V was going to smile
again like she had previous times. Somehow, he doubted it.

Owen had not wanted to believe Luther's words in the strange
not-quite-dream, but they could not be denied. His family's debts had indeed
been paid. Without that financial burden weighing on him, Owen had found a
regular part-time job. It paid less, but it was enough for his rent and he
didn't have to take his clothes off for strangers.

But the roses and the letters had stopped arriving. There had
been no sign of Luther whatsoever, not even a black car, or a shadow through
the corner of his eye. Owen didn't dream of Luther anymore, and he wondered if
before their disastrous meeting, Luther had used his astral projection to slide
into his nighttime fantasies.

It should have bothered him, but all he felt was loss. The
more he thought about it, the more he realized he should have listened, waited
for Luther to explain. He couldn't in good conscience say that he'd
overreacted—after all, it wasn't every day he found out that his sort-of-crush
was a mythological creature. But Luther had been fragile. He could see it now.
Given what had happened to his mother, he'd obviously had a very hard time
approaching Owen, but he had done it nonetheless—and that meant something. With
every day that passed, Owen ached more and more, haunted and in pain. He
suspected he wasn't the only one who felt the loss.

He realized he'd zoned out when the door suddenly opened
before he could even knock. "Well, what are you doing skulking
there?" V snapped at him. "Come in already."

Owen complied, stepping past her and into the office.
"You're looking for Luther," she continued. "Took you long
enough."

Something rebellious rose in Owen's chest. "Can you
blame me?" More than he already blamed himself, at least.

"It doesn't matter if I blame you or not, Owen. He's my
friend, and I've known him for centuries. He's been through a lot."

Owen didn't answer. He had a feeling she wasn't quite done
with what she had to say. "You know, he was only a boy when he saw a
werewolf enforcer tear his mother's throat out in front of him. I found him in
the forest, covered in blood. He wasn't even shivering. He wasn't scared. He was
furious, a wounded animal. And a wounded animal lashes out at the people who
harmed it."

"What exactly are you saying, V?"

"The thing is, Owen, that it's easy enough to get
revenge. All he had to do was wait and train, and once he had control over his
astral projection... Well, let's just say he didn't have a hard time taking
over what is now his pack. Of course, by then, his father was already
dead." She paused and shook her head, as if physically trying to dispel
the memories. "What I'm saying is that he would never lash out against
you, so the pain stays with him instead. I don't like to see him hurt."

"I'm just a normal guy, V. I don't know anything about
werewolves and magic. I don't even know why I'm here. All I know is that I
still have questions and I can't give him up just yet. I hate that he gave up
on me so quickly."

V rubbed her eyes and went to the bar, pouring two glasses of
expensive whiskey. She offered one to Owen, and he took it obediently.
Normally, he didn't drink much, but he suspected he'd need it for this
conversation. He had not missed her casual mentioning of 'centuries'. "Are
you a werewolf too?"

V shook her head. "There are a lot of creatures out
there other than werewolves. But I'm sure that's not really what you want to
know, is it?"

No, it wasn't. He didn't really care about V's secrets or her
anger. In fact, what she'd told him so far pointed out that he'd been right to
come to her. "How's Luther?" he asked outright.

"Trying to get over you, and failing. Well, it was
pointless to even make the attempt, but he wants to respect your choice."

She scoffed, pointing out how she felt about that particular
tidbit. Owen arched a brow. "I take it you don't agree with him?"

"My darling boy... You're a human. I know humans, and
you want him. Proof in point, the fact that you're here." She left her
glass on her desk and stepped close to him, invading his personal space.
Suddenly, her eyes seemed to have a strange glint, and when she gripped his
chin, her fingernails were sharp and pointy, almost like claws. "Humans
are fascinated by the paranormal, and have been even ages ago, when it was
harder for them to accept it. Now, they retaliate with skepticism, whereas
before, they attempted to bury it with violence. But you... How will you face
it? Tell me."

Will you be brave enough?
It was exactly what Luther
had asked, and Owen had told himself that yes, he could handle it. He could
believe. Of course, at the time, he'd had no idea what he was getting into. In
the end, did it really matter?

Owen closed his eyes and thought about red roses. In their
natural state, roses had an intoxicating perfume, but also thorns that could
draw blood. Love wasn't just the sweet smiles exchanged on Valentine's Day, but
also being by each other's side through thick and thin, struggling to
understand and get over seemingly impossible differences.

When he looked at V again, he'd made his decision. "I
want to see him. I want to fix this. Please, V. I know it won't be easy, and
maybe we're both idiots. It might be the blind leading the blind here, but
between the two of us, we can still fix this."

"And you don't care that he's a werewolf with powers of
astral projection?"

Owen sighed heavily. "At this point, I'm thankful he's
not a vampire who sparkles in the sunlight. I draw the line at that."

V burst into laughter and nodded approvingly. "Good
answer. I knew I could count on you, Owen. You're going to make a great father
to Luther's babies."

Owen stared at his former employer. "Wait, what?"

****

Luther was tired. He'd slept poorly, as usual, and he still
wasn't one hundred percent used to the change in sleep patterns he'd forced on
himself. Still, when V asked him to drop by the club, he couldn't refuse. It
would be painful to see the place again, but it was the closest he could get to
Owen without actually breaking his promise.

He rubbed his chest absently as he headed up the stairs to
one of the VIP rooms. He did wonder why V hadn't asked him to meet her in her
office, but he knew she was worried about him. Perhaps she meant to provide
some sort of relaxation for him today. It wouldn't work, but he appreciated the
effort just the same.

He'd expected anything except seeing his mate waiting for him
in the room. He froze, but somehow, stumbled inside nonetheless. The door
closed behind him, and Luther spared a moment to curse V's meddling ways before
he directed his attention to the beautiful human.

"Owen. What are you doing here?"

"I thought we didn't really finish our conversation, or
our date," Owen replied. "And it occurred to me that, despite all the
letters you sent me, I never really danced just for you."

Luther's mouth went dry. He tried to find an answer, but the
images Owen conjured short-circuited his brain. Owen smiled at him and walked
to his side. He grabbed Luther's hand and guided him to the couch.
"Sit."

Luther stared at their entwined fingers in complete
disbelief. He had not thought Owen would want to touch him again, especially
not after his awful reaction to Owen's attempt to leave. But there was no fear
in the human's eyes, no apprehension, just decision and certainty. He shoved
Luther down, and Luther went along with it, because he couldn't do anything
different.

He'd thought he'd lost his mate for good. Seeing him again
birthed the hope that maybe, just maybe, that wasn't the case, and it almost
hurt to wish for that.

Owen picked up a remote and turned on the music system. As a
soft melody filled the room, Luther couldn't help but ask, "What are you
doing, Owen?"

"Like I said, dancing."

"I don't want the Incubus," Luther tried one last
time. "I want you."

Owen smiled. "I'm not wearing the mask, am I?" He
brushed soft fingers over Luther's jaw. "We're so bad at this
communication thing, Luther. The letters have worked for you in the past, as
has my dancing. I figure, maybe we could try again."

With that, Owen started to sway to the music, his slender
fingers now tracing the elegant curve of his neck. Luther's cock went rock hard
as he watched, too easily imagining his own hand on Owen's body, his fangs
buried in the soft flesh.

Owen's graceful motions wove a spell around Luther, until he
forgot why he'd been so reticent to begin with. The VIP room wasn't designed as
the stage, with the pole Owen used for his more complicated moves, but it
didn't matter. Owen bent and twisted, marking each tone of the song with a
twist of his hips or a pirouette in just the right place. Slowly, seductively,
Owen slid his shirt off, exposing the expanse of his naked chest. Luther's gaze
was drawn to his pert nipples, and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and
suck them in his mouth. Instead, he dug his fingers in the leather of the
couch, watching as Owen tweaked the tiny nubs himself. Luther's cock throbbed
painfully with every motion of those fingers, and it only got worse when his
mate licked his lips and let his gaze roam over Luther's body. He knelt on the
carpet and prowled toward him, looking for all the world like he planned to
devour Luther whole. For once, Luther felt like he was the prey to Owen's
predator, completely hypnotized by the expression on Owen's face.

And then, Owen got up and climbed into Luther's lap. The
dancers at the club—including the Incubus—never touched the patrons, but this
was different. Owen wanted this just as much as Luther did.

His eyes fixed on Luther just like they always had when he'd
danced on stage, but he was closer, so much closer. Luther could scent his
need, his arousal, and he wondered how in the world he'd managed to miss his
mate's presence when he'd been coming up the stairs. V's doing, undoubtedly.

His instincts to claim and own took over when Owen ground his
ass over Luther's dick. Owen's erection rubbed against Luther's abdomen, and as
much as he enjoyed Owen's dance, Luther couldn't take it any longer. He gripped
the human's hips and rolled them both on the couch, until he was on top of
Owen, his mate on his back underneath him.

Owen didn't seem to mind the change in position. He wrapped
his legs around Luther's waist and his arms around his neck, his heart
hammering and his breath coming out in pants. His eyes drifted closed, and
Luther took that as the unspoken invitation it was.

A rush of possessive pleasure exploded over him when their
lips met. Owen eagerly granted him entrance, and Luther thrust his tongue into
his mate's mouth, reveling in the taste of his beautiful human's desire and
submission. He devoured Owen, tasting, exploring, so greedy for his mate that
even oxygen didn't matter anymore.

Something nudged at the corner of his mind, though, reminding
him that if he took things further, he'd be unable to stop. He forced himself
to break the kiss and shot his mate a serious look. "Tell me if you don't
want this. Tell me now, because I won't be able to control myself."

Owen fixed him with a determined gaze. "I finally have that
answer, Luther," he replied, his voice somehow both decisive and
breathless. "I'm not afraid, not anymore."

Luther hesitated. He hadn't gotten the chance to explain
everything to Owen, including what a mating would entail. Owen almost seemed to
guess his thoughts. "V told me." He smiled sheepishly. "And
okay, some of it is weird, especially the male pregnancy thing. I didn't expect
that. But... Well, maybe we can get used to it together. Maybe you can teach
me."

The frayed edges of Luther's control snapped. He dove in and
took Owen's lips once more, and this time, he didn't pull away. Owen's
acceptance was like a drug, and it went to Luther's head, shattering every wall
he'd painstakingly built throughout the past month.

How had he ever thought he could abandon this? Every minute
he'd spent away from Owen had hurt, and now, he was so hungry, craved Owen like
a starving man did a feast. Owen welcomed him, giving as good as he got. Their
tongues dueled, and between muffled moans and groans, Luther completely let go.

Owen choked and bit on Luther's lower lip as he felt Luther's
power flow over his body. Luther separated their mouths simply because he
wanted to hear more of those noises and see Owen's face when he made the human
come undone.

Astral projection was dangerous, and he'd always held a tight
rein over it. Frustratingly, it only escaped his control when Owen was involved
in one way or another, which was why Luther had tried to sleep during the day
throughout the past month, so that he wouldn't accidentally invade Owen's
dreams again. But now, he didn't have to hold back anymore. He could give his
mate everything the beautiful human deserved, everything both of them had
craved, but had been too afraid to embrace.

BOOK: Love Letters from an Alpha
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