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99. Ayr
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His Unlovable Mate 100. Cassie
It’s not possible. “It can’t be…I mean…” only to turn and see the look on Ayr’s face. The one I’ve always wanted to see. It’s joyous. The sweetest, kindest expression. A god melted into a beaming man. But it is a look he shouldn’t be giving me. Anyway, it’s just one old lady’s opinion. I said I felt sick, but that surely happens to everyone who’s having the minor trauma of almost killing their mate in their sleep. Accepting the golden-eyed wolf could be hunting Ayr and I down for the rest of our lives out of spite is enough to turn anyone’s stomach. Or, as Mrs Berrybrow suggested, the golden-wolf attaches itself to a newborn. Then what? The instant some child turns eighteen and can connect with their spirit, will their soul be corrupted. Try to harm us? “Cass?” Ayr whispers, before reaching out for my hand. I have no idea how long I’ve been silent for whilst I felt the idyllic protection of my Volare life crumble around me. It's not safe. It will never be safe. I still can’t move
His Unlovable Mate 101. Ayr
I secretly bought a set of jangling bells, but thankfully, they weren’t necessary. I did once tie them to her and woke up to a barrage of jangling cushions to the face. Then she pinned my wrists to the mattress as best as she could before wrapping her mouth around my semi-hard early morning dick. Confusing, briefly terrifying me and making me want to explode all in the space of five seconds. Perfection. Now, such spontaneity has been briefly retired. Instead, she has to choose from a pile of leatherbound books instead of leaping onto my groin. Holding out a selection of hardbacks, I mock-grumpily bark. “Pick one then,” before helping to place the covers over my hugely pregnant, half-glowing, half-irritated mate. We’re in the final stages of this miracle of a pregnancy, and somehow, my plan worked. “You always know which one I’ll choose,” she smiles back softly, her stunningly soft figure draped in an emerald green silk nightgown before choosing the same one she’s had for the pas
His Unlovable Mate 102. Marcus
The day I stop opening my eyes and searching for a flicker of dawn will be when my wolf stops trying too. Not once did I stop believing. Now, finally, after almost five years, something has happened. Since Ayr told me their silver wolf has vanished from the heavens, the constant blackness has started to part. There are shadows and hints of grey and white in my peripheral vision. I can’t see shapes, but there is lightness where once only pitch black existed. My first instinct was to call out to Berrybrow. But then I shut my lips and breathe sharply. This is for me to know. My secret. For if it turns out, all I can see are the shadows at the edges. What has been gained? But maybe, just maybe my purgatory is finally ending? I already know my irises have turned to jade. Mrs Berrybrow was sweet to sell it kindly, maybe as proof that my wolf is still trying to heal me. Ayr has since said he doesn’t give a fuck, that I was exactly the same man to him. Except hearing how the others hav
His Unlovable Mate 103. Cassie
Jessica never appeared at dinner. It was a shame, I totally thought her and Marcus might hit it off, but there will be more opportunity. She’s got that daring confidence that I thought might spark his interest. When the lightning flashed and rain descended, everyone jumped in the packhouse. Ayr ran out to find Marcus. Check he hadn’t got caught in the storm and lost his bearings, but he was nowhere to be seen. His blue gauze was trodden into the mud by the packhouse door, though. “He’s not answering his link?” Ayr said, rubbing his chin. “If he wants us, he will,” Matthew answered steadily. “There’s a line of how much he’ll ask for.” Ayr reluctantly agreed, and the evening continued as planned. Drinks consumed, food eaten, I sat in our bed and watched Ayr as he stripped down. I know how long he stays awake at night reading to me. I also know how the instant he thinks I’m asleep he switches from pirate adventures to love sonnets. My dreams are warm, full of summer sun and happiness
His Unlovable Mate 104. Marcus
She’s dreamed of me? Even as my head spins in a frenzy of pure desire, I need to delve into that conversation more. Women are clearly my blind spot. No pun intended. She’s guiding me along the wooden wall, “I‘m staying in the packhouse, come on,” she breathes, and I’m so close to just being swept along. But this is serious. Flashes of Imelda cross my mind. “Jessica, Jessica, come on, what do you mean dreaming? What colour are your eyes?” as she drags me into the packhouse. Where I once snuck in order to shave in Ayr’s fancy bathroom. Her hand feels so tiny in mine. In fact, everything about her is petite. I’m almost stumbling, and I secretly love the way she doesn’t give a shit I can’t see. She’s taking me to her room regardless. “How about you just trust me?” she whispers before placing a kiss on my open chest. Shit that must be how tall she is. When she first kissed me, she must have been on her tiptoes. What the hell is this? “If you know who I am, I don’t…I’m not going to b
His Unlovable Mate Epilogue: Cassie
Life is very different in Volare these days. Leo is almost two. Wonderful in every way, his pouty lips and blue eyes making it almost impossible to tell him no. I flit between wondering what my mother would think of my own material efforts. Praying I make better choices than her. I still don’t know what the hell was on her mind when she died. Was it out of love for me or hatred of Elle? Staring at Leo, I will never understand how she stood by all those years in silence. It has taken some serious organising but tonight, finally everyone is going to be reunited. A celebration of friendship. Raphael and Robyn have been sorely missed. Almost eighteen months without any visits between us. Corbin had requested all bridges go up for our own safety for a period. He was attacked in an uprising in the centre of Pemberton. Touring a pack and hit in the chest with a cannonball. Quite how the fuck a group of rebels got hold of a cannon is something Raphael is furiously investigating. The nigh
His Unlovable Mate Epilogue 2: Cassie
Corbin is the first to arrive, urgency in his steely eyes. He and Ayr now share the dubious honour of matching neck scars. I imagine his lower chest is even more grisly after the attack on him “Is everything okay? It’s so fantastic to see you,” enjoying the sweep of his huge, iron-like hug. The sweet scent of warm baking is the only soft feature about this hardened leader. “When they set up a room for me to recover in, they found this. I thought you should have it,” withdrawing a thick envelope from his jacket. “It’s written by your mother.” I stare at the aged paper and wonder just what I will gain from reading her drunken rantings. “What made you bring this? She must have hundreds of letters, I know she kept a diary too.”“She addressed it to you. It’s the only one with your name on it. No diaries found.” "Go on, I’ll greet everyone else. It will only irritate you if you don’t read it now, " Ayr suggested "Corbin and I need to talk bridges," as the pair grinned. I took the letter
His Unlovable Mate 1. Cassie
Four years isn’t enough time to get used to being hated. Eventually, an opportunity will come along to put things right. I still believe in that. Otherwise, what’s the point? During any rare opportunity to stand at the top of my cliff-top packhouse I inhale the fresh sea air and wonder how it went so wrong. I’ve stopped dreaming about leaping off the steep white ledge at least. Not that my bodyguard would give me the chance anyway. Even now, all it takes is someone to rush past wearing our royal colors of burnt orange and gold for me to be taken right back to four years ago. The night everything changed. My father, Alpha Kallio doted on me and my baby sister Elle. He tried to hide the weight of leadership behind his huge brown beard and soft, kindly eyes. He was everything. My world revolved around his guidance. I was so desperately ready to prove to the world, to him, that I could be the Kallio Pack’s Luna. Elle had it a lot easier. She mainly spent it talking to our mother
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