Daddy’s Mail Order Mate (Twilight Meadows Wolves #3)

Chapter 17 - Thorn

Consciousness finds me rather unexpectedly. But even more surprising than waking up is how I wake up. I know even from the faint light showing through the nighttime window that it’s my room. But in this house, I’d never shared my bed, not even with my son—I was too terrified of the risk of hurting him. However, I hear soft dozing breaths beside me, and feel Gwen’s nude body nestled up against me.

So, it wasn’t some fever dream. It’s not that I wasn’t aware of myself during everything. I was far too aware in certain respects. The memories of her are still so new that they burn molten hot in my mind: all of the cries she made, the way she arched and curled in ecstasy, the kaleidoscope of gorgeous lewd expressions through every high and low of the experience…

I feel my loins twitch in drowsy interest, but I’ve more than drained my reserves of energy and all else besides. As tempting as the prospect is to coax into yet another round, it was for the best that I didn't let myself get off the rails again. The self-control is definitely made a lot easier by the fact that we’d engaged with each other for what must have been hours before euphoria and exhaustion took us both down for the count.

I sit upright, though I make sure that the blanket stays comfortably nestled on top of her so her rest isn’t disturbed by some unwelcome chill.

My hands smear across my face in an effort to sober myself into properly waking up.

It really did happen. I thought I could remain disciplined and certain in my resolve to not give in to these instincts and make things even more complicated. But it felt each passing day wore away at my resistance, and tonight I finally caved.

I suppose all those months of celibacy had done something to me, if my outburst is any indication.

I glance towards the little red light from the baby monitor sitting on my nightstand. We’d worked our way indoors over the course of our trysts and both had enough parental sense to keep it with us throughout. Well, namely I’d carried her in and had her on the couch, in the kitchen and eventually upstairs in my bed.

The thought of having sex in the same house as my baby felt odd. It was an entirely new experience for me, I supposed. I’d more or less given up on the prospect. A little worry needles in my mind that maybe he’d been disturbed in the middle of the night by our racket, or maybe I’d gotten so carried away that I hadn’t noticed. I get out of bed with a slow, easy stealth; I’ve spent my whole life being very elusive despite my size, so it’s easy enough to discreetly get myself up and clothed enough to go check on my son without making much noise.

Rowan’s entirely at ease in his crib when I get to his nursery, dreaming away. I sigh in relief and go to try and get things, myself included, cleaned up. It’s a bit of a crime scene to work through, but a far more enjoyable one than the sort I normally deal with. But a bit of tidying gets things back in order and provides me something to focus on while my mind tries to start analyzing the check my libido signed.

As amazing as she is and how satisfied my primal instincts feel, guilt burns an ugly hole through my gut. What if she wakes up and regrets everything? Then I’d have gotten greedy and ruined everything for a night of blind passion. The fact that I’d heedlessly gone and done it without any protection and hadn’t had the lucidity to ask her if she was on any sort of birth control only makes it feel like an even more worrisome oversight. Despite all my caution and efforts to live mindfully, did I just have some sort of critical weakness that would leave me forever at risk of sowing my wild oats and hurting the poor women saddled with my child?

I had promised to do better by Rowan and by others. I don’t want to hurt anyone who I don't have to anymore. Yet here I am. There’s a deep grief that runs through me all the way back to my youth, and my sins against her tower closer within my mind despite my efforts to fend off the worst of the memories.

By the time I make it back up to my room, I’m genuinely anxious . If she’s woken up already, it would mean we’d have to talk. We’d gone too far to be able to ignore it any longer.

I lose track of myself for… I don’t know how long. I just know that I've stood in front of my closed bedroom door for ages trapped on the edge of possibility and stuck on the edge of memories I’ve desperately tried to keep buried. Eventually, I manage to fight through the deafening roar of my thoughts and sneak the door open.

She’s still asleep, but my worries keep gnawing at me. I consider going and waking her up, or even attending to her and taking her to her bedroom so that she can wake up in her own space and not be potentially distressed waking up in my bed.

But then my phone buzzes. Pure reflex takes over and I’m at it in a millisecond before it can cause enough of a racket to wake her. The contact name lurches me out of my disorientation into focus through years of conditioning: Rochester . He’s one of my primary liaisons for the Council and is often the person who contacts me with emergencies and significant updates. I hurry from the bedroom, shut the door after me, and hurry down the hall to answer the call.

“Go ahead,” I immediately hail.

“Morning Vatas.”

“News?”

“The rogues that dissolved out of the Scarlet Reed Pack are making a move.”

The dossier for that particular recent case explodes out and completely consumes my mind. I’m already calculating through all the details with this new variable thrown into the mix and grunt in displeasure. It’s a case we’ve been working on for the last year or so. Unlike the business with the Clearwater Pack that Paige had brought me in for, the situation with Scarlet Reed has been a bit more involved and prolonged. There are always issues with the power struggle and dissolution of packs, and some are more stubborn to sort out than others.

“We weren’t anticipating it this soon.”

“No. Lewis thinks they might have gotten a shadow backer of some kind. They’re setting up a base to try and encroach on Sableridge in the next few days according to our projections. We’re going to try and nip it in the bud before they can cause too much damage. I need you to mobilize ASAP.”

No, no no. Not now. I need to be here with Gwen, I need to take care of this—

I grit my teeth and brace a fist at my side.

No. I have a duty to the Council and our society. If I don’t go, others will be in peril. Not only my colleagues but civilians as well, wolves and humans alike.

As direly as I want to stay here, I need to properly use the living weapon I was made to be. Otherwise, what is the point of all the suffering I went through and the pain I’ve inflicted upon others?

“Roger. Send me the intel.”

“Already done.”

“See you there.”

“Don’t be late,” Rochester replies before dropping the call.

I lower my phone slowly. There’s no time to delay—every second can make the difference between life or death. I can’t wake her up just to leave, and I can’t spare any more time than I’ve already lost trying to figure out what I can say in some sort of message to leave for her.

I could very well die before I get back—

No. I have to live, for Rowan… For Paige… And for her.

So in the midst of my hurried preparations to grab my gear and get out the door, I take pause enough to leave a note for Gwen. I spare her sleeping body one last longing look and memorize the sound of her gentle breaths before I set off into the dark night to spill whatever blood I have to in order to come back home to her.