The Alpha’s Desire 1(21)

 

 

 

I paused then, searching my mind for anything I might have left out. The ease of the conversation left me a bit unsettled in some odd irony. Besides, who could talk, the way he stared, the way he continued to touch me...

 

 

 

I added, “What about you?”

 

 

 

“Guess I don’t have a good answer either, hence the reason I asked you.”

 

 

 

“Hence, huh?” I teased. “Sometimes you talk like you’re not from this time period, like you stepped out of some Victorian era book I’ve read. I thought the same with some of the phrasings in your songs. Artistic style, I guess. I have to admit, though, with the wisdom in your music, I expected more in depth of an answer.”

 

 

 

I winked then, offering him my biggest smile so he’d know I was teasing him. He smiled back, thankfully.

 

 

 

“I can’t know it all, and on some subjects I struggle. I’ve even voiced some of those struggles in my music. Moving on, if you don’t mind, what are your beliefs in the paranormal then? If you are unsure about death, do you believe in ghosts?”

 

 

 

“I’ve never experienced one, myself. Though, there were years there when I was a teen, with a mostly drunken father who did his best but couldn’t answer my personal questions like a mother could, that I wished for the ghost of my mother. Unfortunately, she never appeared. What I have gotten, though, was this sense that I have a wolf spirit guide.... Wow, I can’t believe I just said that!” I exclaimed.

 

 

 

“No, I want to hear more,” he said excitedly, sitting up and for the first time taking his hands from me.

 

 

 

I sat up as well and offered a stunned, “Okay.” I didn’t get the excitement. In fact, I rather thought he ought to be running out of the room, thinking me crazy.

 

 

 

“Sorry, I’m just fascinated,” he apologized. “Please, I want to hear more.”

 

 

 

I crinkled my brow.

 

 

 

“Please. I’m really interested in the paranormal. I’ve done a lot of reading, and even attended a few metaphysical expos to hear people speak on different topics. I want to hear more. Why do you think you have a wolf spirit guide?” He asked.

 

 

 

“Well, I guess I never really had a name for it until I was a teenager. I’d read a book, fiction, written by a Native American author. When the protagonist in the story described her wolf spirit guide, it rang true of some of my own unexplainable experiences. So, I did some research, and came to believe that I had the same. Though, I have not an ounce of Native American blood in me.”

 

 

 

“Details!” He hounded me like a child asking the why questions, though not annoying at all.

 

 

 

In fact, I found comfort in his questions, his interest. My shoulders relaxed, moving further away from my ears. Finally producing saliva again, I could wet my dry lips. I even, to my surprise, looked up into his eyes as I formed what I’d say next in my mind. Him running his hands down the outsides of my arms, pulling me closer, made me realize that I’d even leaned away from him.

 

 

 

“You’re in a safe zone, here. No judgment. No criticism. Just pure interest in what you have to say,” he added.

 

 

 

“Okay,” I agreed. “Well, once my mother died, maybe a few years after, in times of depression or trial, maybe when I felt alone the most, I would have this reoccurring dream of a wolf. I didn’t talk to him in the dream. Just his presence brought me comfort. As the dream progressed, I would even curl up with the wolf, sleep in its arms like a baby would its mother’s. As the years passed, I started to see eyes, golden ones, peering at me through the night. I don’t think there was ever anything there, and I didn’t check it out, but it happened often.”

 

 

 

I stopped then, realizing the similarity of my spirit guide’s eyes and the wolf I’d seen in the alley. Of course, the wolf of my dreams had been wolf size. The one in the alley that attacked the man had been much larger. I’d tried to push away this line of thinking before, but the coincidence of it all became suddenly undeniable.

 

 

 

“You okay? You suddenly went silent and pale. Where’d you go off to?”

 

 

 

“Ah, nowhere. Um, anyway, sorry, where was I? Right, the girl in the book I read had said the same thing about the eyes, how they’d shone gold in the night. There were even times, and I connected later that these were my lowest moments, that I could feel the hot breath of a wolf on my neck. If I turned around, nothing would be there, of course. In the book I read, the girl interacted with hers. I’ve never had such luck. Of course, I guess I could have freaked out just the same.”