The Virgin Alpha and the Prostitute

Chapter 7: Wounds

Paris

After a minute, I finally worked up the strength to pull myself to my feet and grab my shorts. Wolves usually weren’t shy about being naked in front of each other, especially close friends like Aaron and I, who often shifted and went on runs together. But I was so crestfallen after what had just happened with Amalia that I couldn’t face him unclothed.

He was waiting with coffee and bagels in hand and my overnight bag slung over his shoulder when I finally got to him. The smile fell from his face. “Jesus Christ,” he said, an expression of his I’d always found funny given our devotion as wolves to the Moon Goddess, “what the hell happened to you?”

I sighed, opening the door wider to let him in. “I f****d up,” I grumbled, running my hand over the spot on my sternum where she’d shoved me—kneed me? It was a blur.

“Yeah, obviously,” said Aaron. He glanced around the entrance to Amalia’s apartment. The entryway opened up into the kitchen on one side and the living area on the other. He set the coffee and bread on the kitchen island. “So what’d you do?”

“Not in the mood to talk about it, Aaron,” I said, sitting on one of the stools at the island and grabbing a coffee from the drink carrier. Aaron shook his head.

“You know I’m here to support you, right? I’m not killing myself over training and putting up with Beta Blowhard all day just so I can watch you deal with your dumb decisions on your own.” I rolled my eyes, but he was right. My father was a challenging character and his Beta, Boris, was no less so. But Boris knew all there was to know about the role within our pack, so Aaron had been his dutiful trainee, despite the clear dissonance in their approaches and personalities. Aaron knew I wanted to change things when I finally got the lead, so he put up with it for the sake of not delaying the inevitable. The way we saw it, the sooner my father and Boris thought we were ready, the sooner we could do things our own way.

“I know, Aaron. It’s just there’s not a lot to say. I just said something stupid to her and she kneed me. I hit the floor. Whatever.”

“She kneed you in the nuts?” Aaron said, eyes wide. “What did I tell you? Wild ride.”

I grimaced at him and sipped my coffee, grimacing again as I tasted it. “What is this swill?”

“I dunno, bro,” Aaron said. “City coffee. Best I could do.”

I set the drink back down. “It’s a mountain coffee sort of day, unfortunately. Not worth it.”

“What’s she doing?” asked Aaron, picking a bagel from the bag.

“Showering,” I said tersely. “She said she’s washing her mouth out with soap.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow. “Did you guys—”

“No,” I interrupted. “We didn’t…mate. We just fooled around this morning.”

“Is she coming back with us?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and finger. “I don’t know, Aaron. I hope so.”

Aaron sighed, finally sick of asking me questions, and started to eat his bagel in silence. I heard Amalia turn off the shower behind the closed bathroom door. A few more minutes passed. Aaron had pulled out his phone, and since he’d brought me my work tablet, I checked my messages for any fires that needed to be put out. As usual, there wasn’t much. My father hadn’t delegated as much to me as I’d like.

Suddenly the bathroom door opened, and her sweet smell hit my senses, filling me once again with shame and regret. I couldn’t bare to lose her. I turned to look at her. I hadn’t noticed that she’d grabbed clothes while I was on the ground, but she must have because she emerged fully dressed. Her black jeans clung to her in all the right places, and her oversized crop top hung perfectly over her frame while revealing just enough of her soft belly to make me long for her. Her hair was loose and long over her shoulders. She crossed her arms, glowering at me before turning to Aaron.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hi,” Aaron replied clumsily, his mouth full of his second bagel. He put it down and extended a hand. “I’m Aaron.”

Amalia didn’t move. “I’m Amalia.”

“So you’re Paris’ mate,” he replied awkwardly, making me cringe.

“Evidently. I hear you f****d my friend Tracey last night.” I coughed to stifle a laugh. Aaron’s wide-eyed expression was priceless. They both shot me a look, but Aaron had no response for Amalia. “She said you were nice,” Amalia added, softening neither her expression nor her tone. “I’m gathering that that’s a trait unique to you and not all of the pack leadership.” Now it was Aaron’s turn to shoot me a look.

“Listen, Luna—” he began.

“I’m not your Luna.”

“Fine. Amalia, Paris is my best friend. Has been since I was born. I’d kill for him. But I’m not gonna pretend he’s not a shithead more often than anyone deserves.”

“Wow, Aaron, thanks,” I groaned. So much for being helpful. Amalia didn’t look at me.

“Thanks for being honest,” she said. “Doesn’t exactly sound like mate material, though.”

“Well, I can’t speak to that,” admitted Aaron. “But he’s still the greatest best friend and Alpha a wolf could ask for.” Amalia raised an eyebrow at him. Aaron continued. “He’s going to do amazing things for our pack when he finally gets to take over. We’re not only gonna be the strongest and most-resourced pack in the region, but also the most forward-thinking. And that’s because Paris cares about his pack. He’s not in it for power or money. He’s in it so he can do right by every single pack member.” He paused, waiting for Amalia to say something, but no response came. Finally, he went on. “Look, I know Paris isn’t perfect, and you have every right to reject him.” I winced with pain as he said those words. What was he doing? “But you can’t change that he’s your fated mate. The Moon Goddess Herself picked him for you. And it’d crush you both if you did reject him. I don’t know what he said to you, but I know him and I think he deserves another chance.”

Another long pause hung in the air. Amalia’s expression was unreadable. If she’d been softened at all by Aaron’s words, she wasn’t letting on. Finally I caved. “Amalia,” she turned to look at me, frowning. My heart felt a tug. “Amalia, just come back with us. See the pack. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I’ll pay for your return flight back the moment you say the word.”

Amalia furrowed her brow. “I have plenty of money of my own if I need a flight. I made a ton off of one guy last night, as you so kindly reminded me this morning,” she said pointedly. Aaron shot me a look. He could put enough of the pieces together from that remark. Great. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll pack a bag. But here’s my condition.” She strode over to me and got right in my face. I longed for her, and I wished I could kiss her, but her angry expression deterred me from trying. “We are not having s*x until I’m sure you’re committed to me.”

I didn’t need to argue that. She was coming with us. At least I had a chance now—maybe the rest will fall into place. Aaron’s voice echoed in my head over mind link. Wild ride.

Amalia

I packed a bag hastily. Paris stood in the doorway of my room while Aaron confirmed that I could get on their flight today. “Will they hold this apartment for you if you aren’t here?” he wondered aloud.

“I get two weeks after terminating my employment with them,” I replied. “A month if they fire me.”

“So you’ll have to decide if you’re staying in the next two weeks?”

“Not necessarily. I have enough saved to afford a place while I look for work if I need to,” I said pointedly. “I didn’t need to spend a lot living here so I saved almost everything I made.”

“And you got what kind of cut from, um, your job?”

I rolled my eyes and stopped to look at him. “It’s not forbidden to call it what it was. I made 10% guaranteed, plus tips.” I went back to digging in a drawer, but continued, “Sometimes I’d get a bigger cut if I upselled clients on a package or if they ordered a ton of food or drinks.” I pulled the shirt I was looking for out of the drawer and tossed it in my bag.

“What does everyone do for fun at Harvest Moon?” I asked.

“For fun?”

“Yeah. Like, what do folks do on a Saturday night?”

“I dunno, drink around a bonfire. Snuggle up with their mate under a warm blanket. Hunt. It’s not really like here where there’s a ton of…I guess, nightlife?” I grabbed two of the clubbing dresses I’d packed out of my bag and tossed them on the floor of the closet. One would be enough, in case of emergency. I’d probably only need one pair of heels. I picked my tall black stilettos. Deadly for any occasion.

“I got us all on a plane,” Aaron said, joining Paris in the doorway. “But they had to move our reservation up to accommodate it. We depart in three hours now. I’m going to go back to the hotel and grab my s**t. I’ll meet you at the airport.”

Paris nodded. I quickened my pace. “You know there’s clothing stores at Harvest Moon,” said Paris, trying to joke with me. I shot him a look and the smile melted off his face. He sighed and left me alone.

With him gone, I quickly ripped into my underwear drawer. My best lingerie was coming with me and I had every intention of using it. I may have outlawed s*x between us, but that didn’t mean I didn’t still want him…nor did it mean that I didn’t want him to want me. Besides, it wasn’t enough just to deprive him of s*x if he didn’t also know exactly what he was missing out on.

I smiled grimly as I tossed the lacy pieces into my bag. Then I looked around the room, scanning for anything I’d forgotten, before zipping my bag shut.

Paris

Hey, I texted to Calliope. What are you guys doing tonight? I grinned weakly when the reply bubbles immediately appeared. Oh, Cal. Always glued to her phone.

Nothing, staying home, came the reply. Why, what’s up?

I found my mate, I replied. And I’m coming home earlier than planned. Could we join you for dinner?

!!!!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The texts came in rapid succession from Calliope.

UM YES YOU CAN COME OVER FOR DINNER

I grinned, but it quickly faded as I remembered where I stood with Amalia right now.

Fair warning, she’s not my biggest fan right now.

Facepalm emoji. What did you do?

I sighed, my thumbs hovering over my phone as I tried to decide how to respond. I may have made a comment about her profession that she didn’t appreciate.

You’re an i***t, Calliope replied instantly.

Yeah.

Whatever. I’ll turn up the charm. What’s her name?

Amalia.

Cute. I’ll tell Tony what’s up. See you tonight.

I set down my phone and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. Goddess, what a mess. But it gave me hope that it was impossible for people not to like my sister. Calliope was funny and easygoing—not twisted into knots all the time like I was. She also knew all there was to know about the pack, having served as its default Luna since the passing of our mom. And she was one of our best warriors, something I had a feeling Amalia would appreciate. I was really hoping Cal would be able to help make Amalia feel at home in the pack and envision a future there for herself. With me. Preferably with me.

I turned at the sound of heels clicking on the kitchen tile. Amalia had added a pair of heeled ankle boots and a leather jacket to her outfit. She had a small purse slung over one shoulder and a duffel bag slung across the other. She dropped the duffel with a loud thump, and crossed her arms. “I’m ready when you are.”

“You look great,” I said, staring once again at the bare flesh showing between the hem of her crop top and waist of her jeans.

“Thanks.”

“And you travel light.”

“Like I said, I rarely spend money. And I have a feeling my city getup might be out of place at Harvest Moon.”

“You look great,” I reiterated. “They’ll all love you.” She stared at me blankly. I sighed. “Fine. Aaron called us a car. It’s waiting outside.”

We rode in silence to the airport. Amalia stared out the window the entire way. I wondered what she was thinking, what she was feeling.

Her wolf isn’t angry with you, Atlas said solemnly in the back of my head. She’s trying to get her to forgive you.

Glad to have one ally on my side, I replied. I wondered how convincing Amalia’s wolf could be. If she was anywhere near as stubborn as Amalia, she might be able to get through to her.

We arrived at the airport, going around the back. Amalia noticed we had turned away from the main concourse and shot me a look.

“We’re taking a smaller aircraft,” I said. “It’s just easier to fly private. If you fly commercial you wind up flying into a city two hours away by car, and then either driving or chartering a plane anyhow. Flying this way will get us directly to Harvest Moon.”

“How long is the flight again?”

“Four hours.”

“Lovely,” she said sarcastically. Her lack of enthusiasm was so irritating. I understood that she was mad, but it was starting to wear on me. I reached across the seat and took her hand. She spun her head around and glared at me, but didn’t pull away.

“Amalia,” I said, “I want to know what I need to do to make things right.”

“You need to earn my trust.”

“And how do I do that?”

“There isn’t, like, a checklist, Paris.” My heart leapt when she said my name. I stroked her palm with my thumb. She didn’t react, but I know she felt the same sparks on her skin that I was feeling on mine.

“I know,” I said, “I just hope your mind is still open to me, that’s all.”