Take Your Regrets to the Grave
My son is gravely ill. His inner wolf is too weak to awaken, and the healer warns that without the Alpha’s blood to strengthen his spirit, he may not last the next full moon.
He clutches my hand, his feverish golden eyes dimming. “Mother, can Father take me to the Barnum & Bailey Circus?”
But no matter how many times I summon my mate through the pack bond, he does not answer. His presence in the mind-link is an empty void.
I can only hold my son as his small body trembles. I whisper stories of wolf warriors and great Alphas, but his breathing grows weaker. When the dawn breaks, his tiny fingers slip from mine. His wolf never wakes.
A few days later, the scent of wild roses floods o
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