Alpha's Bane- Always been you

One-syllabic (EDITED!!!)

Theo

My knuckles drum against the steering wheel, and I try to focus on the chatter in the car and not just blankly stare out of the windshield.

I should probably listen a little more closely to my best friend and my fiancé discussing our wedding. But I can’t bring myself to. It’s not even work that I’m occupied by. Maybe that sounds conceded, but I have being the Alpha of the largest Pack in North America down. No one could do a better job than me. Well, a few might, but they’re far between.

The last few years have felt like an endless checking off points on a to-do list. And when I look over at Maude, I feel like a total a*shole. Because I sucked her into this. It was the first time in years that a woman’s attention didn’t make me feel nauseous or bored. Being with her is easy. I don’t have to think about what I say or how to act.

She’s just so… agreeable. She never makes a fuzz. And a big plus is that she’s known me for a long time. Our first date was more than five years in—a long time to collect data about each other.

Before we went out for that dinner, I promised her for doing my taxes over two years ago, I did my due diligence. I talked to Ryan, my gamma and Maude’s brother-in-law. I spent hours writing a list of pros and cons. Then I obsessed over the best strategy from here on out and how soon I could ask her to be my Luna to move forward in my 10-year plan for being Alpha of Blue Ridge.

I really try to tell myself otherwise, but once I let myself be honest, I know deep down that that’s the only reason why I asked her to marry me. If it hadn’t been for the spell our pack’s warlock placed on my sisters and me years ago, I might have been able to find my actual mate and not resort to this.

I like Maude! I know she will be a great Luna. And still, I feel shitty when I see how excited she is about the wedding… That I make her hide from her family and friends for the time being. Throughout our two-year relationship, I have never really found the time to tell my parents about it. Ryan and Katie know, and my sister Elodie and her mate have also seen us interact. But I have never admitted to them how serious our relationship has gotten since Maude moved to Blue Ridge a little over 1.5 years ago.

The only person who knows about our engagement is sitting in the back seat, kicking his feet at something Maude says, grinning from ear to ear. I don’t think that there are many things Benjamin DeBoer CAN’T find joy in. A cake tasting surely isn’t one of those. He’s been more excited about that than the fact that his childhood best friend is getting married. To the supposed love of his life… I feel bile rise in my throat.

There is a reason why I cut love out of the equation. It might have worked out for Maeve and Elodie after a rocky start and some heated arguments, but that’s not my experience. And frankly, I’m neither an Empath nor an emotionally stunted artist.

I’m the 6” 2 Alpha of a pack of 4786 people who rely on me for protection and guidance. I don’t have hobbies unless you count beating the sh*t out of some unlucky dude every other day, and I obsess over chess strategies published by grant masters going 130 years back. I don’t have time to open up and be vulnerable. This is where Maude comes in because she doesn’t expect me to do that. She just takes me as I am and smoothes over situations where I lack empathy, tact, or patience. And in my eyes, that is exactly what a Luna should do.

I rub my thumb over my left temple. Ever since we stopped in front of this hole-in-the-wall cafe, my head has been killing me. It feels like a tingle that starts at the base of my skull, only to evolve into a heinous bolt of pain moving up to my forehead and spreading out. The skin on my left thumb burns like fire, and I’m close to taking a knife to it. It almost feels like the messing ring I’ve been wearing for years is burning, it’s into my flesh.

“No buttercream.” Benjamin moans, ripping me from my internal check-up.

“Most wedding cakes have that or a variation of it, Ben. It’s traditional… and simply works best to get the layers—

“F*ck tradition!”

Maude chuckles at my friend’s heated take on whipped and flavored dairy products.

“How about a … hear me out… GIANT PUMPKIN PIE!”

“Ben…”

“What? It’s the best baked good anyone could ever make.”

I agree with him on the sentiment. It for sure is the only one I would actually eat, but I see Maude shake her head in disbelief, still smiling. Guess I’m not eating cake on my own wedding day.

An engine revs, and I cringe for a second, suppressing the urge to touch my head again. My brows furrow, and I briefly close my eyes.

“Oh, looks like they’re finally going to open.” Maude’s excited voice sounds like it’s coming toward me through a layer of cotton. When I shake my head once, the low-pitched hum in my ears finally stops, and my gaze follows her’s over to the other side of the street we’re parked on.

The turquoise little wooden door, the display window covered in gold lettering and plant pots, and the huge oak wood sign above the door that I registered earlier all fade into the background. As do the rattan chairs and foldable tables stacked needly against the outer wall of the cafe.

All of that blurs next to the red Ducati that just stopped in front of the shop. The driver gets off, long legs swinging in tight blue jeans. My heart skits when they remove the helmet and shake their hair.

Her raven ponytail hits past her shoulders, and I feel my stomach drop and bile rise angrily as I watch her zip down the tight leather jacket and hoodie she’s wearing. No, impossible!

She tilts her head up against the sun, and I see the light bounce off her glossy hair, making it look like a halo is glowing around her head.

My teeth clench, and I hate that my headache seems to be subsiding right now.

“Do you think we should give her a minute to set up, or do we….” Maude’s voice fades into the background when the woman turns fully towards us. If we were parked closer, our eyes would have met.

Eight years. Eight years of more or less successfully convincing myself that she’s gone. Telling myself she must be dead. Or at least dead to me. Because one day she was there and everything was great, and the next she was just… gone. Well, not ‘just gone,’ but thinking about that makes my blood boil even more. Images from that night pop up again. Images that I worked so hard to delete from my mind. Without a trace.

She left me! HOW THE F*CK IS SHE HERE RIGHT NOW ?!

___________________

Nine years earlier

I watch the foam top on the beer in front of me slowly disappear as the hour goes by. Great way to tell time in a bar, I guess.

A bar I shouldn’t even be in, given I’m not 21 yet. But the wide ‘Trust me, I’m a great, capable male’ - smile that Max Cummings shot the bartender got me stuck here with them.

The same Max Cummings that is now rolling his eyes, interrupting a story he was telling to the group, when his phone chimes.

“The GP is calling.”

“GP?” One of the other guys raises a brow.

“Grouchy publicist. Tell me, Hurst…” Turning to Truett, Max puts on his best smile. “Does your sister ever take that stick out of her a**?”

Truett, the only one who’s even less enthusiastic about being here than me and my roommate for the year to come, stares at him blankly. I imagine what’s happening in his head as the much younger man grins widely again—going to pick up the call in front of all of us. Before the line even clicks, Truett’s empty glass comes down on the table with a hollow noise, and he’s up. Nodding his head shortly, he heads for the door, not looking back once.

I don’t think he’ll be there when I get back to the dorm. And I can’t blame him. I was hesitant when my dad told me about this place. He didn’t push me, but he made it clear that he thought it the best way to test and strengthen my skills. Maybe get a better grip on the political and diplomatic side of things. My (now pretty sure former) roommate is a different case.

Alpha Steven had enough of the Alpha Council being on his case about never sending an heir to the widely approved boot camp. So he forced the only one still living close enough to go. I don’t know how he guilted his oldest son into leaving his mate and kids and coming all the way to bum-f**k Alabama, but he must have somehow.

“Teagan!” Max smiles widely at the screen.

“Shut it, Cummings!” The hissed voice of a woman is barely audible over the noise in the bar. “And please tell me you are not where I think you are… F*ck. Seriously? A bar. Some of those boys aren’t even 21 yet!”

“C’mon, Teags, let them have a little fun.”

“I worked my a** off to get you this role as a teacher there, and you’re ruining it within the first week?!” Her voice gets louder now, and the smile on Alpha Cummings’ face looks a little more forced.

“You’re no longer an underground cage fighter.”

“I know.”

“You have a pack to represent, damn it. Start acting your age! You’re 32, not 12!”

Cummings snarls. “And you’re 24, not 94, live a little.” He cuts his publicist off with the push of a button and pockets his phone.

“Who’s ready for a little game of truth or dare?” His eyes gleam as he looks into the eager faces of my peers. F*ck, I’ll have to play along, won’t I? Alright.

We get started, and most of the guys that play before me choose truth. So when it’s my turn, everyone looks at me expectantly. This has turned into more of a game of dirty little secrets. And I’m not about to play.

“Dare.”

“Damn, Hartgrave, OK. I see you…. Mmmh, let’s…” Max’s gaze catches on the blonde behind the bar. “Yes… I dare you to go over there and get the bartender’s number.”

Following his gaze to the girl who blew off every attempt so far tonight, I see her literally hiss at a customer and basically spit her gum into the glass of another who tries to rope her in with a fun story.

Great. I suppress the urge to gag. Girls never held much appeal to me. Like I can see that you enjoy touching soft skin and that some of them, like my sisters, might be decently interesting to talk to, but none of the girls that tried to catch my attention at any point in the last few years ever interested me.

I get up and slowly squeeze past the rustic-looking tables and the booths lined up against the wall. When I reach the dark wooden counter, the blonde is standing close, filling an order from the tap. Our eyes meet, and I put on the smile I was told looked the realest.

“Hey, I—

Before I can even finish the first sentence, she turns on her heels, walking off. Not wasting a single breath on me. I don’t even have to turn around to know where the laughter is coming from. When I look back over my shoulder, I see Max wipe a tear. Then one of the guys pushes his hands under his shirt, and they grossly start to reenact what just happened. Well, at least they won’t—

“Leave your number. She’ll call you.” My head whips around at the melodious voice. And for a second, I understand what the word ‘breathtaking’ means.

She’s carrying a case of washed and stacked glass cups, and I watch the muscles in her arms flex under her simple black shirt. And I know she’s speaking to me because I see her lips move, but instead, my eyes are stuck on her smile. THE smile.

Whenever someone said: “so and so has a ‘warm’ smile”, I tried to imagine what that would look like. Now I don’t have to any longer. ‘Warm’ doesn’t seem the right word for her smile.

My chest feels tighter looking at it, my pulse flutters, and I swear there is no one else in the room she could possibly be looking at. I’m the only one she sees.

“Hello?” Her slender hand moves back and forth in front of my face, and a silver bracelet glitters in the dim light. I swallow a little harder than I’d like to admit and meet her gaze. She hasn’t stopped smiling, which doesn’t help my sweaty palms that make me scared I might slip and face-plant onto the bar, making this awkward interaction even worse.

“Yes?” Goddess, her eyes are so blue—a stark contrast to her almost raven hair. I hear the slight swishing sound her loose ponytail makes when she inclines her head, looking at me.

“Wow, your ears are even worse than mine.” She pushes a little of the hair framing her face up, and I see something silver and a little bit of wire. Hearing aids.

My face must show just how out of my depth I am because she tilts her head even further. And the short, throaty laugh that leaves her is the cutest thing I have heard in my life.

“OK, I tell you what…” She looks at me questioningly. My name. I guess she wants to know my name. Right.

“Theo… Theodore.” F*ck. Yes, sure, give the pretty stranger your full name. Makes you sound so much cooler.

She smirks, seemingly delighted by my discomfort or maybe (so much wishful thinking today) not noticing it.

“Tell you what, Theo-Theodore,” she put down the case and wipes her hands now, fumbling for something in the top drawer of what must be a small cabinet behind the bar. When she straightens again, she has a piece of paper stuck between her index and middle finger. “I’ll give you the holy grail... because I like you.”

When the girl angles the paper a little, I see its phone number on it.

“OK…”

Her smile widens again, and I’m so mesmerized for a second time I don’t realize she’s leaning in. Her face is way closer to mine now, and her scent… intoxicating.

“You, Theo-Theodore, will get THE phone number.” Her eyes flit over to the blonde serving a customer, shooting her a glance over the shoulder. “I’ve watched the miserable parade of guys trying to get her attention tonight, and you, my friend, got it. The ‘let him bite, stir and then come back for the kill’ ? One of her favorite tactics."

She pushes the paper toward me. “Her name is Melisa. She likes daffodils, and if you take her somewhere where they serve really undercooked fish, she’ll love you forever. Give that number a call and find out, if she'll let you.”

I stare at her, unsure if I’m getting what she is saying. She’s… trying to set me up with her … sister?

“I…”

“… agree? Perfect.” She leans back too quickly for my liking, the white piece of paper in front of me the only proof she was ever this close to me. I have to say something! I need this conversation to go on. Like I have never needed anything else in my life. Ivan is pacing back and forth in the back of my head, shouting different strategies to approach this like a drill sergeant.

“What about you?”

‘Weak!’ But I don’t listen to my wolf. Best thing I could come up with on the spot, and it has the desired effect. She stops mid-way and turns back to me.

“Oh, I was never here. They wouldn’t let someone underage in now, would they?” She winks, picking up a new case of dirty cups.

“I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine.”, she calls over her shoulder, and just as suddenly as she appeared, she’s gone.

And for a second, I really question if I just imagined this. But then my gaze falls on the piece of paper she left. Her scent is lingering as well.

‘Not enough. We have to look for her.’ Now is not the right time, though. The group I came with is finally done with their reenactment of my ‘faux pax’ and paying attention to me again. Their droopy gaze stuck on my back, leaving an icky feeling the longer I keep it turned on them.

I make a minute decision. Not like I can follow her into the kitchen. Must have been where she went with those. So, I’ll go back to the table and mull this over until I have an actual game plan.

My back is turned to the bar before the blonde can saunter over again. I ignore the sharp click of her tongue when I return to our booth.

“Sorry for the loss, Har—

I put the paper down on the table. “Her name’s Melisa, and she likes daffodils.”

Max bursts out laughing. “You sneaky bastard.” I see one of the other men gaze at the blonde longingly. So I push the ripped note over to him. “Trade you for a beer.”

He eagerly agrees, and I watch the foam top of another drink shrink as I try to figure out how to get another minute in with my ‘mystery girl.’

I could roll my eyes at myself so hard it hurts. Pathetic. And my wolf is not helping.

The foam top is almost gone completely when I see someone swiftly move past the far end of the bar to the door with the emergency light on over it. Getting up, I mumble something about having to use the toilet and slip out after them into an alley behind the bar.

There is barely any light passing between the outer wall of the building and the brick fence of the next. The space is only illuminated by a small, flickering wall light right above a huge dumpster.

And there she is. Struggling to keep the lit of the monstrous thing open while not losing her grip on the overflowing bags next to her. My steps speed up, but she doesn’t seem to hear me over her heavy breathing and a few curses mixed in. Only once I’ve almost reached her side do I hear her address me.

“Wow, thanks Adri. So, did you finally decide to stop sulking and hel—-

The sentence ends with a yelp when she turns slightly, letting go of the dumpsters lit when she sees me.

I catch it just in time, my outstretched arm over her head and my chest almost hitting hers with every erratic breath she takes.

“You’re a stealthy one, Theo-Theodore.” She seems to collect herself rather quickly, taking a small step back. I see something pass in her eyes. Like she’s trying to assess me.

“Let me help you.” I pick up one of the trash bags, hoisting it into the dumpster under her stern gaze. Her brows are furrowed now, and she tilts her head again.

“What’s your deal? Are you one of those lone gentlemen in action movies who roam the streets at night and turn into villains once they’ve picked a one-syllabic name for themselves?”

I feel my face crease in a smile and see her lips twitch too. “One-syllabic?”

“You know…” She gestures wildly after dropping the bag she was holding inside the dumpster. “Bane. Fury.”

And her facial expressions have my smile widen. I think I have seldom met someone as expressive as Elodie, but this girl can say everything with the rise and dip of a perfect dark eyebrow.

“Bane sounds good.”

“Well then, Bane. What brings you here this fine evening?”

My heart rate picks up a little before I allow myself to say the words I’ve wanted to for hours now. Or some variation of them.

“I need a friend… here. So… How about you?” OK, it couldn’t be further from what I wanted to say. But: ‘Let me smell your hair’ and ‘Please, smile at me again’ seem a little pathetic.

“Are you going to turn into the villain in my story?”

“No.”

She nods thoughtfully. “I’ll think about it, Bane.”

“OK.”

“OK.”

“Can… you at least tell me your name?”

“Right, one has to know who they’re going to be ‘potential friends’ with.”

“Right.”

Her lips twitch a second time. “Blanca.” I like how that rolls off her tongue. It sounds so pretty when she says it.

“Blanca.”

“Almost.” She smirks. And I will practice this in front of the mirror until I get it right. When she lifts the last bag of trash to drop, I’m back to where I started. I know a little more about her, but I still have no way of getting in touch…

‘Ask her out, you moron!’

“I… how would I… get in touch with you?” My hands flex uncomfortably. “You know the whole… potential friends thing.”

“I’ll find you.”

I’m a little taken aback by that. Then I frown. “I’m not sure you… could.”

But Blanca just winks at me, her gaze dropping to my pocket. “Then maybe you'll have to beat me to it. " The confusion must have been visible on my face because she let's out a chuckle.

"I lied. That was my phone number on that piece of paper."

F*ck. Guess I have to get that piece of paper back from that dumba**.

______________

Present

My hands clench around the steering wheel one more time as I watch Blanca grab her helmet and head to the door. She produces a set of keys, and my vision slowly tinges red.

At this point, my blood must be boiling. For some reason, Ivan has been quiet for the last few minutes, and it’s weird that he has nothing to say about this.

When I see her push inside and flip the sign, all bets are off. My right hand shoots to unfasten my seatbelt, and I push out of the car before either Maude or Ben get a word out.

“Theo?”

I ignore Maude calling after me and stalk across the street. It’s like I’m the bull, and that turquoise door is my red drape. Once I get past it, I will unleash all the anger, the fury, on the one person who deserves it more than anyone else.

The door handle creaks a little under my hard grip, and I hear the bell chime over the door. Simultaneously, there is a flash of light in the open kitchen behind the antique-looking glass counter.

“One moment.” Her voice sends a shiver down my spine, goosebumps spreading everywhere, and Ivan perks up. It sounds different, and I hate that I notice. Her pronunciation isn’t as … exact, her voice, in general, more raspy. My wolf suddenly pushes me forward, trying to force me closer to—

“How can I—

Blanca cuts herself off when her eyes meet mine. And the pure shock and horror on her face morph into anger the second Ivan shouts at me.

‘Mate!’