The Raven’s Alpha (Nature’s Embrace #1)

Chapter Two

Eddy Elwood

For years, I've grown accustomed to the old-school alarm clock's ear-piercing shriek. But on mornings like this, I'm reminded of how much I loathe it. The sudden jolt of the ‘EEEEE!’ sound shatters my peaceful slumber, leaving me disoriented and irritable.

My heart racing, I force my eyes open, only to be met with the blinding light of dawn. The tears I'd been holding back since last night's commute had finally given way to a cathartic sob fest. I'd spent hours crying quietly to myself after getting home from work, the emotional weight of the day's verbal abuse finally overwhelming me.

I've lived in Everlong for over two decades, ever since my 18th birthday. While my parents didn't agree with my choice, they ultimately supported my decision. I know they wished I'd stayed in pack lands, found a mate, and started a family. But I had other plans.

I do want a mate and a family – just not the kind that came with settling down with a random omega just because they could provide me with offspring. I’m waiting for my true mate, someone who will accept me for who I am, unconditionally.

I'm a romantic at heart and I'm convinced that my fated mate is out there, waiting for me to find them. As I sit up in bed, the shrill alarm clock finally silences, the only sounds are the morning melodies of the forest. The cacophony of bird chirps, rustling leaves, and distant calls of unknown creatures is music to my shifter ears .

As a bear-shifter, I've developed a good sense of hearing, capable of picking up sounds from miles away. It's a blessing and a curse, as I can tune it out when necessary, but on mornings like this, I revel in the symphony of nature. The racket is almost overwhelming but I've learned to filter out the noise, savouring the subtle sounds that make my heart skip a beat.

I made the bold decision to leave my pack and start anew, but I knew one thing for certain: I wanted to stay close to the woods. The forest has always been a source of solace and comfort for me, and I couldn't imagine living anywhere without its tranquillity. When I stumbled upon this quaint little cabin, nestled deep in the heart of the woods, I knew I'd found my forever home. As a broke eighteen-year-old with barely a penny to my name, I was grateful to find a realtor who took pity on a fellow shifter and worked with me to make the dream a reality.

It took years of hard work and dedication to make ends meet. I took on every odd job I could find, from scrubbing toilets, to cleaning up after messy restaurant goers. And when I finally got my pay checks, I handed most of it over to the realtors, who patiently waited for me to scrape together enough funds to make the mortgage payments. It was a slow and arduous process, but the thought of owning my own home kept me going.

Growing up in a small pack of grizzlies, I was used to being surrounded by familiar faces and familiar scents. When I moved to Everlong, I was thrown into a whole new world of shifters. There were bears, wolves, foxes, and even the occasional cat or two. It was overwhelming at first – like being a small fish in a big pond – but as I got to know the other residents, I realised that most of them were kind and friendly. Not too friendly, especially the omegas, who seemed to hurl verbal abuse at me once they realised I wasn’t interested in them. But there was a sense of community here that I'd never experienced before .

As I step out of the shower, the steam dissipates, and the crisp morning air invigorates my senses. I pour myself a steaming cup of black coffee and take a moment to savour the aroma, feeling the kick of caffeine to start my day. With a quiet murmur of encouragement, I repeat my morning mantra to myself: " I am good enough. " It's a simple yet powerful phrase that helps to shake off any lingering doubts or anxieties.

As I gather my belongings and head out to my trusty truck, the morning light casts a golden glow over the landscape. I turn the radio down low, letting the gentle hum of the music provide a soothing background noise as I make my way to the bakery. The words of my mantra continue to echo in my mind, a gentle reminder of my worth and abilities.

Pulling up in front of the bakery, a sense of peace washes over me. This is where I come alive, where my passion and creativity shine through in every loaf of bread and pastry. Despite what others may say or think, I know that I'm a talented baker and this place is where I truly excel. The familiar scent of flour and sugar wafts out of the doors, welcoming me like an old friend.

My daily routine is well-established – I arrive at the bakery at five am sharp, sometimes earlier if I have a special order or batch to prepare. I begin by carefully preparing the dough, coaxing it to life with precise measurements and gentle kneading. As the hours pass by, I transform the dough into an array of freshly baked breads and pastries, each one infused with love and care. With Christmas just around the corner, my most popular treats are those that induce the festive spirit – gingerbreads adorned with icing and candy canes, fruitcakes studded with dried fruits and nuts.

With the holiday season approaching, my heart swells with excitement as I think about the festive treats I get to create. My favourite part of the job is transforming plain cupcakes and cookies into edible masterpieces, adorned with intricate designs and colourful sprinkles. I spend hours perfecting each one, and the customers can't get enough of them. They flock to my shop, their eyes widening with delight as they take in the sweet aroma of freshly baked goods.

As the morning wears on, my small shop is soon filled with the heavenly scent of freshly baked breads and treats. I inhale deeply, letting out a contented sigh as I savour the aroma. My stomach growls in response, reminding me that coffee alone is no substitute for a hearty breakfast. Being a growing boy – okay, I'm forty-one, but I'm a big guy – I've learned to indulge in my love of sweet treats.

When I have a couple loaves baked to perfection, I slice off a couple of pieces and grab a wedge of cheese from the fridge. I slather a generous amount of salted butter onto the warm bread, then add a mix of creamy Swiss and spicy pepper jack cheese. The combination is heavenly, and I can't resist the temptation to pop it in the oven until the cheese is melted and gooey. There's something magical about the way the cheese stretches and bubbles, releasing a savoury aroma that makes my mouth water.

Gazing around the cosy space of Grizzlies, I can't help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment. The vision I had when I first opened my bakery is now a reality, thanks to years of hard work and dedication. The rustic wooden tables and chairs, adorned with vintage baking utensils and colourful ceramics, create a warm and inviting atmosphere. The aroma of freshly baked bread wafts through the air, mingling with the sound of sizzling pastries and the gentle hum of the ovens in the back. It's a sensory delight that never gets old.

While my breakfast warms, I make my way to the cosy coffee nook I've set up behind the till. The rows of neatly lined bottles filled with fancy syrups catch my eye, and I'm grateful for the decision to invest in locally sourced coffee beans from the town's favourite roastery. My commercial espresso machine, a splurge that cost me a couple of thousand pounds, has paid off in spades. The popularity of my bakery has more than justified the expense, and I'm confident it won't be long before I've paid off the loans.

As I take a sip of my sweet coffee, savouring the rich flavours and aromas, I glance at my phone to check the time. It's just a few minutes before seven, and I know it's time to unlock the front door and flip the open sign around. With a spring in my step, I head out to greet the day and welcome my customers to Grizzlies.

The morning sun casts its warm glow over the bustling streets, I can sense the impending rush of customers. The aroma of freshly baked pastries wafts through the air, enticing the early risers to flock to Grizzlies. I've grown accustomed to the ebbs and flows of the day, but I still get a thrill from the chaos that ensues. As the mix of humans and shifters pour in, I'm ready to spring into action. With me being the only employee of Grizzlies, I don't have the luxury of slowing down or taking breaks.

The thought of hiring someone to work alongside me has crossed my mind, but I'm a bit of a control freak when it comes to my bakery. I like things done my way and that means being hands-on and in charge. I find solace in the quiet routine of running my own business. It's not that I'm antisocial by nature – I just prefer smaller, more intimate interactions with my customers.

As the morning rush subsides, I take a moment to catch my breath and survey the calm before the storm. The next few hours will be a gentle lull, but I know that soon enough, the lunch crowd will arrive. The door swings open and shut, and the steady stream of customers comes and goes. Everyone is polite and courteous, and I sense that today will be a better day than yesterday. Maybe it's because the sun is shining brighter, or perhaps it's because I've had a good night's rest – whatever the reason, I'm feeling optimistic about the day ahead .

I stand at the counter, a piping bag filled with sage green icing in hand, I'm poised to create a batch of festive Christmas tree cookies. The bell above the door jingles, signalling the arrival of new customers. I glance up to see a group of young men, their faces aglow with excitement and camaraderie, as they burst into the bakery. My heart skips a beat and my fingers tighten around the piping bag, as if it's the only lifeline keeping me anchored to reality.

The sudden influx of noise and energy is a stark contrast to the peaceful atmosphere I've worked so hard to cultivate in Grizzlies. As I watch the group of young men laughing and joking together. I'm flooded with doubts and fears. What if I'm not good enough? What if these young men can sense the uncertainty emanating from me? The familiar mantra echoes in my mind, a desperate attempt to calm my racing thoughts: "I am good enough. I am good enough. I am good enough."

I set the piping bag down, taking a moment to collect my thoughts before emerging from the back room. As I approach the till, I make a conscious effort to maintain a friendly yet firm tone, saying, "Good morning and welcome to Grizzlies. What can I help you with today?"

A quick glance around the group reveals they're all omegas, their playful energy and flirtatious glances making me feel a bit self-conscious. The apparent leader of the group, a charismatic individual with a mischievous grin, saunters over to the till and leans his elbows on the counter with his eyes locked on me. I can already sense the come-ons he's about to unleash, and I bristle slightly at the prospect.

“Hello handsome, everything on the menu looks delicious. You know what I think would taste better?" he says, his voice dripping with innuendo, as he scans the menu boards behind me. His posse erupts into giggles and nudges each other, clearly enjoying their friend's antics .

I try to laugh awkwardly, attempting to deflect the attention, but my response comes out stilted. "I'm actually in the middle of making Christmas cookies, if you guys would like to wait around... or maybe choose from our selection of pastries?" I point to the glass case in front of me. "Or perhaps a coffee?" As I ramble on, I'm aware that I'm falling into my old nervous habit of filling silence with unnecessary words. It's a habit that's taken me years to develop, but one that I've never been able to fully shake.

The omega's face falls as I respond to his flirtatious comment, clearly unimpressed by my indifference. I've learned that it's better to address potential trouble head-on, rather than letting it simmer and boil over. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll have a coffee,” he says with a roll of his eyes.

"Ah, great choice! I'll get that right out for you," I say, trying to sound cheerful and nonchalant as I turn to make his latte. My face is growing hotter by the second, and I can feel the sweat gathering at the back of my neck.

As I work on his coffee, I'm acutely aware of the omegas' eyes on me, their gazes lingering on my body as if trying to decipher why I'm behaving so... oddly. It's clear that they're all trying to figure me out, to crack the code of my awkwardness.

The next fifteen minutes are a blur of awkward interactions, each omega attempting to shoot their shot with me and each time I respond with a level of obliviousness that's almost too much to bear. It's like they're all trying to make me squirm, and I'm determined not to give them the satisfaction.

As I ring up the last omega's order, I can sense the tension in the air. He's been lingering around until he’s the last one to order, his eyes fixed on me with an unnerving intensity. I've learned to ignore it, but today they’ve decided to take this game to a new level.

"So, you're just going to stand there and pretend you're not interested in any of us?" he sneers, his voice dripping with malice. " We’re offering you the chance of a lifetime, and you're just going to blow it off like it's nothing?"

I feel a flush rise to my cheeks as I try to maintain my composure. "I'm just here to do my job, sir," I reply, trying to sound neutral.

The omega snorts in disgust. "You're not even going to acknowledge my advances? You're just going to ignore me like I'm some kind of dirt beneath your feet?"

I take a deep breath, trying to keep my emotions in check. "Look, I appreciate your interest, but I'm not really interested in... whatever it is you're trying to do."

The omega's face twists in a snarl. "You're just going to play hard to get, huh? Well, let me tell you something, alpha. You're not as special as you think you are. You're just a fat, old alpha who thinks he's above all this."

I feel a surge of anger at his words but I know better than to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, I keep my cool and continue to ring up his order.

As he pays and leaves, I can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over me. But as I watch him go, I can't shake the feeling that this isn't the end of it. The omega's parting shot still echoes in my ears: "You're not worth enough for anyone."

The bell above the door continues to ring out long after the group of omegas has left, the repetitive chime growing more grating with each passing minute. As the lunchtime and evening rush come and go, I feel my energy waning, my irritation growing. I'm exhausted, both physically and mentally.

I know I should stay late and get everything done, but I just can't bring myself to do it. The thought of facing the extra work tomorrow morning is daunting, and I know I'll be beating myself up over it in the morning. But tonight, I'm done playing by the rules.

I flip the sign around on the door and turn off the lights, casting the bakery into darkness. The sudden quiet is a welcome relief. I grab my jacket and hat, feeling a sense of liberation wash over me as I lock the door behind me. For once, I'm not going to let my responsibilities dictate my actions.

As I drive home, the darkness outside seems to mirror my mood. I'm tired of being alone, tired of feeling like I'm stuck in a rut. For tonight, at least, I'm taking a break from it all.

When I pull into my driveway, I'm not craving the usual comfort of a warm meal. Instead, I need to release the tension and stress that's been building up inside me. Stepping out into the crisp winter air, I feel the cold bite into my skin.

I shed my clothes as I walk, leaving a trail of fabric behind me as I make my way towards the trees at the back of my property. The familiar scent of pine and damp earth envelops me, and I feel my senses come alive.

As I reach the edge of the woods, I pause for a moment, letting the silence wash over me. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, feeling the chill of the air seep into my bones. When I open them again, everything seems different. The snow-covered trees seem to glow in the fading light and my body hums with a gentle warmth.

As a shifter, I'm used to adapting to this environment. The cold doesn't bother me, in fact, I find it invigorating. My body is designed to run hot, even in its human form, so a few inches of snow aren't enough to slow me down.

As I sink into the snow, my paws leave deep impressions, the crisp air filling my lungs as I take a deep breath. As the cold seeps in I can feel the tension in my body begin to release. I start to move, my legs propelling me forward as I gain speed. The snowflakes around me dance in the wind, landing gently on my fur before melting away.

I love running in the forest, feeling the rush of the wind through my fur. But on days like this, when the snow is deep and the trees are bare, there's not much to do. I've been stuck in a rut and I'm itching for adventure .

Being a shifter, I'm luckily spared the hardships that come with being a regular grizzly. I don't have to hibernate in the winter or spend hours searching for food. But being a shifter also comes with its own set of challenges, I've always been a bit of an oddity among my own kind. My pack doesn't understand why I don't enjoy hunting, why I don't relish the thrill of the chase. But for me, it's just not something that resonates. And now, being away from my home pack, I feel like an outsider even among shifters.

I'm about to turn back, when a loud, raspy squawk pierces the air, and I pivot to face the tree above me. I stand up on my hind legs, my eyes scanning the branches for a glimpse of the raven. For a moment, I'm at a standstill, waiting for him to reveal himself.

That's when I notice the raven's peculiar behaviour. He never approaches me, but instead prefers to hover above or perch on a branch, watching me with an unblinking gaze. It's as if he's sizing me up, or perhaps studying my every move.

I've grown accustomed to his presence over the weeks, and I've come to appreciate his companionship. He's a clever bird, always aware of his surroundings, and yet, there's something endearing about his friendly demeanour. Whether he's a shifter or not, I've grown fond of his silent companionship.

A couple of weeks ago, as I gazed out the kitchen window, I noticed a sleek black raven perched on the garden fence, his beady eyes fixed on me. It was as if he'd been waiting for my attention. I was intrigued by this sudden appearance, and over the next few days, I made sure to leave out a little dish filled with birdseed and dried fruits. Every morning, I'd rush to check the dish, and to my delight, it would be empty, but not entirely - there would always be a few crumbs scattered about, as if the raven had savoured every piece.

I began to feel like we were developing a peculiar bond. It was as if he'd taken to visiting me daily, not just for sustenance but for some sort of companionship. And then, something remarkable happened. After a few days of leaving food for him, I started to find small treasures in the dish. At first, it was just ordinary rocks, but soon they were shiny coins, and later, glittering crystals. I kept them all in a wooden box on my bedroom dresser, where they sparkled like tiny jewels.

My favourite treasures were the crystals. I had no idea where he found them - perhaps hidden away in a cave or nestled among the roots of an ancient tree. But it didn't matter; what mattered was that he'd left them for me, and I felt a sense of wonder and connection whenever I touched them.

I delved deeper into the world of ravens, after a little bit of research. I'm not surprised to discover that they're renowned for their exceptional intelligence. It's almost as if they're mirroring my own fascination with their mysterious nature. When I hear his squawk, I'm convinced he's greeting me - it's a "Hello" that's unmistakable in its tone. And then, when he repeats it, his voice takes on a gravelly quality that sends shivers down my spine. I'm certain he's saying "Hello grizzly," a name that seems to hold a special significance for him. This moment, more than any other, solidifies my suspicion that this raven is more than just a bird.

I’m not to sure how old he is and despite my uncertainty about his age, I'm grateful for the companionship. Perhaps it's because he's always hovering just out of reach, leaving me to wonder about his true nature. Whatever the reason, I find myself looking forward to our daily encounters, eager to see what new treasures he'll leave or what clever phrase he'll utter next.