The Stoic Alpha
I say, walking up to my youngest child.
“Thanks, Mom. I guess maybe I’ll get lucky and feel the pull to someone too, who knows?”
“You’re very close to your eighteenth birthday and your father recognized me as his mate long before I turned eighteen. You were born from a Guardian and the son of a Guardian. That makes you stronger than most.”
“Not around here,” he says dryly.
“No, not around here,” I chuckle, pulling my son into a hug. I know he’s as uncomfortable with it as his father used to be, but I’m his mother and he tolerates it from me.