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

Chapter Fourteen

Eddy Elwood

I tuck my mate snugly into the blankets in my old bedroom and sit beside him for a few moments, watching to ensure he's in a deep sleep before I venture out to find my parents.

I seethe with anger thinking about what that man said to Darcy. I'd expected some resistance, but I hoped that my explanation - that Darcy belongs to me - would be enough to smooth our passage through the borders. Instead, we faced hostility and tension.

When I'm certain my mate is lost in slumber, I rise slowly from the bed and shed my sweatshirt, draping it gently over Darcy's chest. I hope the familiar scent of my skin will bring him a measure of calm as I slip away for a few moments.

As I turn to leave the bedroom, I'm alerted to the sound of footsteps from the hallway, and I'm not surprised to find my father already seated on the sofa, his eyes fixed on the two glasses of amber liquid in his hands. "Join me for a drink," he suggests, his voice low and gentle as he extends a glass in my direction.

I settle beside him, taking the glass from his hand and bringing the cool liquid to my lips. The amber liquid burns its way down my throat as I drain the glass in a swift, instinctive motion.

My father's arm wraps around my shoulders, his wrist tracing a gentle pattern along my arm as he remains silent. As an alpha, he knows his pheromones won't have the same calming effect on me as they would on an omega, but our family bond still conjures a sense of comfort and security .

"My mate, Darcy, is a force to be reckoned with - strong, confident, and unwavering in his convictions. He doesn't deserve to be spoken to with such disrespect, and neither does anyone else. Nobody should be treated like shit, regardless of their identity or background.”

"I know, Edgar," my father says, and I feel a familiar sense of resignation wash over me. "It's just the way some parts of the world still work. The injustices and inequalities, they're ingrained and entrenched. It's a hard truth to accept, but it's one we've grown up with." My father sets his glass down, his expression sombre. "I didn't think they'd treat you two with such disrespect just because he’s an omega," he says, his voice laced with disappointment. "But I was wrong." He pauses, his eyes searching mine. "The only thing you can do now is be there for Darcy, love him and comfort him like you always do."

When my father exits, I remain seated on the sofa, the warm glow of the fire crackling in the silence. The flames dance and spit, casting flickering shadows on the walls as I sit in stunned contemplation.

I gaze around the family cabin, a wave of nostalgia washing over me. It's been too long since I've been here, and yet everything seems frozen in time. The same childhood photos hang on the walls, their frames discoloured with age. The same knickknacks Mother collected over the years are scattered along the shelves, their intricate details and colours a testament to her love and dedication.

The aroma is almost identical to what I remember from my childhood, minus the faint hint of my sibling's signature perfume that once lingered in every nook. This nostalgic comfort washes over me like a soothing balm, calming my frazzled mind and quieting my racing thoughts.

As I sit on the sofa, lost in thought, I don't notice the passage of time. It's only when Darcy calls my name from the bedroom that I come back to the present. I stand up, feeling the soft cushions release their hold on me, and carry my empty glass into the kitchen. As I set it down in the sink, the familiar creak of the cabin's old woodwork echoes through the room. I return to Darcy, my footsteps quiet on the worn floorboards.

When I enter the bedroom, I'm met with a warm and cosy sight: Darcy snuggled up in bed, wrapped in my old blankets, his small body a bundle of comfort. My heart gives a peculiar jolt, a sensation that's more like a gentle, yet powerful tremor that resonates through my entire body, leaving my limbs tingling. It's not an unsettling feeling, but rather a deep sense of contentment and excitement.

Standing there, taking in the scene before me, I'm struck by the realisation that this might be what it feels like to be in love. My internal monologue is interrupted by a sarcastic voice in my head: ‘ Duh ,’ my bear tells me, a reminder that, of course, this is what it's like to be in love. But as I look at Darcy, snuggled up in my old blankets, a warmth spreads through my chest that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

"There you are, come in," and he lifts the blanket up, inviting me into the warmth. The soft rustle of the fabric as it's lifted sounds like a gentle whisper, and I feel a sense of comfort wash over me.

I shed my clothes, letting them fall to the floor in a heap, before slipping under the warm sheets. The soft fabric settles over me, and I'm enveloped in the sweet scent of berries, wafting from Darcy's presence. It's a fragrance that's become synonymous with comfort and security, and my heart swells with gratitude as I snuggle in beside him.

Darcy's warm body presses against mine as he climbs over me, his slender frame pinning me to the mattress. I wrap my arms around him, feeling a sense of safety and security in his presence. As I breathe in his scent, I finally allow myself to let go, allowing my emotions to surface like a gentle tide .

My emotions are a turbulent sea, and I'm rarely swept away by the waves of anger that churn beneath the surface. Yet, there have been times when the dam has burst, and I've raged like a stormy sea, fuelled by a fierce desire for justice. But now, as I lie here with Darcy's warmth on top of me, I'm left with a crushing sense of sorrow. The moment of rage has passed, and all that's left is the ache of regret.

My heart throbs with a deep pain, a sorrow that seems to sear my very soul. The words spoken to Darcy still echo in my mind, a constant reminder of the cruel and dehumanising treatment omegas like him face every day. My brain reels with the weight of it all, the knowledge that countless others suffer just as he does, simply because of their biology. It's a burden that feels crushing, a constant ache that refuses to subside.

As Darcy's soft snores fill the room, I finally let my guard down and allow the tears to flow. The memories of our ordeals at the borders replay in my mind like a cruel mantra, each detail etched into my brain like a scar. I relive the fear, the rage, and the helplessness, and with each replay, my emotions swell until they can no longer be contained. When I think about what I would do differently, I realise that I'm not as rational as I thought. Going off on that man would have been a futile act of defiance, likely ending in disaster for both of us. The thought of losing Darcy, of losing everything we've worked for, is too much to bear.

The injustice of it all seethes within me, festering like an open wound. The laws and regulations that are supposed to protect us are a joke, and I'm reminded of that every time I think about what we went through at the borders. Even though Darcy is my fated mate, his status as an unclaimed omega means he's still vulnerable to being taken away from me. The thought of those officials ripping him out of my truck, forcing him to leave me behind, is a constant source of fear and anxiety .

Tears stream down my face at the thought of being torn away from Darcy, of being forced to watch him suffer at the hands of those monsters, it’s almost too much to bear. My darling Darcy, my one true mate, my love... the very idea of being separated from him is a physical pain that feels like it's tearing me apart.

As I slowly come to, I'm enveloped in the warmth of my mate's body, wrapped snugly around me like a cocoon. The knitted blankets my parents gave us a comforting reminder of home, and I feel grateful to be sharing this quiet morning moment with Darcy. My mother and father, both bear shifters, have a different relationship with cold than my mate does - they're impervious to the chill, whereas his omega physiology makes him vulnerable to the frosty air of the cabin. But for now, I just savour the feeling of being wrapped up together, the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps.

I gently run my fingers through the dark silk of his hair, he stirs against me, his low hum a soothing vibration against my chest. He lifts his head, his sleepy gaze meeting mine as he blinks away the remnants of slumber. A few faint creases still decorate his cheeks, and I can't help but smile at the sight of a few strands of drool clinging to his lips.

“Good morning, alpha," he says softly, his voice husky from sleep.

"Did you sleep okay?" I ask, my voice gentle as I brush a strand of hair behind his ear. "You're shivering a bit; are you warm enough? Mum does keep the cabin chilly."

He nods and sits up, his knees resting either side of my waist, I can't help but feel a flutter in my chest. His yawn and stretch are so endearing, and the way he looks at me with bleary eyes is like a warm hug. "Yeah, I slept surprisingly well."

My mother's voice booms through my bedroom door, “I can hear you boys chatting! Come down for breakfast and let me meet my new son-in-law! ”

Darcy's eyes go wide with terror as he scrambles off my lap, his tiny hands flapping wildly as he wraps the blanket around his body like a miniature burrito. He lets out a tiny squeak of panic, like a mouse caught in a trap, and I have to stifle a laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“You do know you’re fully dressed, right? And we weren’t doing anything dirty,” I whisper to my mate.

His eyes fluttered upwards in exasperation as he shoves at my shoulder, making me laugh at his antics. I reach for the floor, snatching up the battered old duffel bag and hefting it onto the bed with a soft thud

After a quick shower - alone, because Darcy had declined my offer of sharing the warm water – we quickly get dressed and make our way to the dining room. The scent of coffee envelopes me as I enter, and I can hear my parents' gentle chatter and clinking glasses filling the space. Darcy follows closely behind, his footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor as we head to the kitchen.

I anticipated my mother's typical display of affection for Darcy. But instead, she smiles kindly at him and lets my father take centre stage. With his eyes shining brightly, he extends his hand and introduces himself with a gentle firmness, his aura warm and welcoming. My mother sits back in her chair, a small smile playing on her lips as she lets my father have his moment with Darcy.

Norman Elwood is a sturdy man with a rough-hewn exterior, but as he looks at Darcy with genuine warmth in his eyes, I see the subtle cracks in his armour, revealing the deep emotional wellspring that lays beneath. It’s a quality I inherited from him, much to my mother's surprise – she often thought I got my sensitivity from her, but I knew it was my father’s influence that had shaped me.

My father towers over my little mate, and I’m proud when Darcy doesn’t cower before him. He holds his head high, but holds it slightly to the side to show respect. My father grins while shaking his head, “None of that. While I appreciate the respect, it isn’t needed. I just wanted to introduce myself before Lucy steals you for herself.” Darcy holds one of his small hands out, ready to shake my fathers.

Again, my father shakes his head and opens his arms out wide. Darcy quickly looks at me and I nod my head. He shrugs and steps closer to my father, their arms wrapping around each other in a friendly embrace.

As soon as my father and Darcy part ways, my mother sweeps in like a gentle storm, her arms opening wide and a warm smile illuminating her face. Darcy's eyes widen in delighted surprise as he wraps his arms around her, his grin spreading from ear to ear as she showers him with affection.

The room is filled with a mixture of scents, breakfast being one of them, but it’s the blooming scent of happiness that fills my lungs.

After my mother finally let’s go of my mate, I see Darcy taking a couple of deep breaths and subtly wiping his eyes. I just hope it’s an overwhelming happiness that’s making my mate feel emotional.

My mother leads us to the table, where a feast of golden-brown pancakes, crispy bacon, and steaming cups of coffee await, the culmination of her early morning labours. The air is thick with the sweet aroma of freshly baked treats, mingling with the savoury scent of sizzling meats and the rich fragrance of freshly brewed coffee. As we sit down to eat, my mother beams with pride, her eyes shining with satisfaction at the thought of feeding her loved ones.

My mother's eyes sparkle with mischief as she watches me fill Darcy's plate, her lips curled into a playful smile. “Now why don't you fill my plate up for me?” she says to my father, her tone laced with good-natured teasing, “I've been busting my behind all morning making this food, the least you can do is serve it to me.”

My father's expression turns mock-indignant as he sets his plate down, his eyebrows raised in a comical display of faux-offence. “Look what you've done, making me look bad in front of my lady,” his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. He then picks up his plate, which is loaded with a generous helping of fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and golden-brown toast, and dumps it in front of my mother with a flourish. With a cheeky grin, he picks up his fork and stabs a piece of bacon, bringing it to her lips and says, “Open wide, sweetheart.”

Darcy's shoulders shake as he tries to stifle a giggle, his eyes trained on his plate as if studying the intricacies of the scrambled eggs. “Come on, sweetheart,” my father says, still teasing my mother with the bacon, and Darcy's nose scrunches up in an effort to maintain a straight face, but a tell-tale quiver in his shoulders betrays his struggle.

My mother's eyes roll heavenward as she reaches out to gently push my father's hand away, her fingers closing around his wrist like a gentle vice. “Leave me be with that awkwardly offered bacon, I think I can manage my own breakfast,” she says, her tone firm but amused. She turns her attention back to her plate, fork poised over her eggs as if daring my father to try again.

Over breakfast, the conversation flows easily, with my parents asking Darcy questions about his life and hobbies, and Darcy returning their queries with thoughtful answers. But when the topic turns to family, I can feel a familiar knot form in my stomach, and I try to steer the conversation elsewhere. Just as I'm about to deflect the question, Darcy's hand wraps around my thigh, his touch warm and gentle. “No, it's okay,” he says softly, his eyes locked on mine. “We can talk about it.” His words are like a balm to my anxiety, and I take a deep breath as he begins to discuss his complex family dynamics.

“So, I don’t know anybody from my birth family, but when I was a youngling, a family of wolf shifters took me in. We spent so many happy years together and they truly treated me as one of their own.” Darcy clears his throat and takes a couple of deep breaths, before continuing to say, “They unfortunately passed away when I was eighteen. Car accident on a patch of black ice.”

A heavy silence settles over the dining room, accompanied by the faint scent of stale air and the lingering tang of disappointment. My mum's eyes well up with tears, her face contorted in a mixture of anguish and despair. My father's eyes are wide with alarm, his brow furrowed in concern as he struggles to process the news.

My mother's hand stretches across the table, her fingers wrapping gently around Darcy's, as she attempts to offer comfort. Their bodies exude a soothing aroma, a gentle blend of lavender and berries that wafts through the air, attempting to calm his frazzled nerves.

I see Darcy's chest rise and fall as he takes a slow, deliberate breath, his eyes closing in concentration. His shoulders ease into relaxation, releasing the tension that had been building. A soft, grateful smile spreads across his face. "Thanks," he says quietly, his voice filled with appreciation.

"I know it's not the same, but I want you to know that you're part of this family now, Darcy," Mother says, her voice filled with emotion as she squeezes his hand. "We may not be your blood family, but we’ll try to fill the gap in your heart. You'll always have a place to call home, where you'll be loved and accepted for who you are."

Just as Darcy's about to respond, the creaky back door swings wide, and a flurry of boisterous voices spill into the kitchen. My siblings stampede in, their laughter and shouts mingling with the scent of breakfast. They tumble in, their feet thundering on the floor as they make a beeline for us.

My older brother’s long strides eating up the distance between us. He nearly collides with Darcy, but my mate manages to catch himself just in time. My brother's arms wrap around my back, pulling me out of my seat as he shouts, "I've missed you, Edgar!" The words are spoken with a mix of urgency and relief, and I feel a lump form in my throat as I return his embrace .

Henry's arms tighten around me, I feel my airway constricting, his thick arms digging into my shoulders like hooks. I try to wriggle free, but his grip is like a vice. "Missed you too, Brother," I manage to choke out between laboured breaths. Henry's face is flushed with excitement as he holds me in place, his eyes shining with a mixture of relief and affection.

Being a family of grizzly shifters, you’d expect my siblings to be imposing figures - and they are, but my brother, Henry, is something special. While he shares our physical stature - broad shoulders and a powerful build - his personality is a gentle contradiction to his rugged appearance. His kind eyes and warm smile make him seem almost fragile, and despite his intimidating size, he is always willing to listen and offer a helping hand.

Suddenly, my sister's smaller hands grasp for us, her fingers like tiny claws digging into our chests. "Move! Let me in," she whines. I feel her push us apart, my brother's arms straining against hers as he refuses to give way.

When I wrench free from Henry's grasp, my sister launches herself at me, her arms wrapping around my waist like a lock. The scent of lavender and honey wafts up to me, a familiar fragrance that instantly transports me back to childhood summers spent playing in the forest. The sweetness is tempered by a hint of strength, a reminder that this is no longer a little girl, but a fierce and powerful woman. I feel her body mould to mine as she holds me tight, her breath hot against my ear as she nuzzles my neck.

Once Millie steps away, I study her face, taking in the subtle changes that have accumulated since I last saw her. Her brown curls now cascade down her back like a waterfall of chestnut silk, and her features seem to have gained a new definition, as if the softness of youth has given way to the sharpness of adulthood. Yet, despite this transformation, her eyes remain the same – warm and bright as a summer sunbeam – and in that instant, I'm flooded with memories of lazy summer afternoons spent playing with my little sister. As I gaze at her, I'm struck by the bittersweet mix of emotions that arises from seeing someone you once nurtured grow into a strong, capable woman.

Looking at my sister, my question hangs suspended in mid-air, lost on my lips as I'm riveted by the unmistakable scar on her neck. A purplish-silver blooms like a flower on her pale skin, its edges slightly swollen and tender-looking. I lean closer, my heart racing with a mix of concern and curiosity.

Millie's cheeks flush as she gently strokes the jagged edges of the scar on her neck, her fingers tracing the familiar contours with a mixture of tenderness and peacefulness. “I found my mate.”

“What? When? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Millie shrugs, “I was going to tell you this morning.”

“My baby sister has a mate. You’re all grown up.” I can't help but feel a pang of sadness wash over me. She's only twenty-three, but it seems like just yesterday she was chasing butterflies through the woods, her pigtails bouncing behind her as she giggled and twirled. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

Millie's eyes sparkle with amusement as she says "What about you? You didn't tell me about your mate." She saunters over to the chair next to Darcy and flops down into it, her long legs stretching out in front of her. The creak of the chair fills the room as she leans forward and sticks a hand out. "Nice to finally meet you, Darcy," she says with a friendly smile.

His eyes dart towards me for a fleeting moment, his expression softening into a gentle smile as he holds out his hand to my sister. The smile creeps up from the corners of his mouth, reaching his eyes and making them crinkle at the edges. "Likewise," he says, his deep voice low and smooth.

When Henry's booming introduction fills the room, I slide onto the worn chair beside my parents. I gaze at them, my eyes searching for answers as I whisper, "Why didn't you guys tell me about Millie?" My voice trembles slightly as I ask the question, and I can feel my parents' attention shift towards me, their faces softening with concern.

My father's eyes cloud over as he sets his jaw, his tone heavy with reluctance. "We wanted to tell you about Millie, Edgar, but it's your sister's news to share. And besides," he adds, his voice laced with a hint of hesitation, "they haven't been together all that long." His words are a gentle rebuke, and I can feel my face fall as I process the weight of his words.

"What's he like?" I press, my tone a mix of curiosity and wariness.

My parents exchange a glance, and I can sense the hesitation in their silence before my mother finally speaks up. "He's a nice guy," her tone is measured. "But we'll let Millie tell you all about him herself."

Just as I'm about to ask another question, Millie interrupts, her eyes sparkling with excitement, "You can meet him tonight at family dinner!" My parents exchange a look, and my mum's expression softens into a gentle smile. I feel a flutter of nerves in my chest as I glance at my dad, who's watching me with an unreadable expression.

My mate catches the dark cloud hovering over my head, and his eyes soften with concern as he suggests we take a walk. "How about you show me around and then we can go for a run in the woods?" he asks, his voice gentle and reassuring. I nod gratefully, feeling a glimmer of relief at the distraction.

My mother stands up from the table and begins clearing away the breakfast dishes. "Make sure you boys are back in time for supper," she calls out as we step out of the family cabin.