The Alpha prince’s true mate (Complete)

Ghosts in the night

*Marsden*

I stand beside the grave where my beloved now sleeps. A month ago, Alphas and villagers alike came to see her laid to rest. She's resting beneath the boughs of the great oak where I first met her. It's where she belongs. When my time comes, I'll lie beside her.

"Because you refused to bury her in hallowed ground," the vicar told me, "her soul will find no peace."

But I know she would have preferred being here, nearer to the grand house that always fascinated her. And I imagine, although it seems rather self-serving, that she would find peace in being nearer to me.

As for myself, I've never known such profound grief and despair. I had the clocks in the residence stopped at the moment of her passing. I ordered that the servants touch none of the chambers in the residence. Whenever I walk into one of the rooms, I feel her there, envision her greeting me, inhale her orange fragrance, hear her laughter, see her smile. It's as though the very essence of her still occupies every corner, and I don't want to lose that lingering sensation that she's still with me.

I fear if I lose the minute details of her existence, I won't be able to carry on.

Snow begins falling, and I curse it because it will send me indoors. Linnie would have waltzed through it, giggled as the flakes landed on her eyelashes and melted. I miss the joy she brought into the world. Miss her terribly.

It's nearly dark when I finally wander back into the residence. A young servant steps forward to take my coat and shake off the snow. "Shall I alert the cook that you're ready to dine, my Prince?" he asks.

"No, Gilbert, I have no appetite." I tell him.

He looks at me with worry, "With all due respect, my Prince, you need to keep up your strength."

"Why, when life no longer has any meaning?" I shuffle down the hallway, lacking the will to even lift my feet properly.

In the library, I seek meaning at the bottom of a bottle of scotch. I've done it every night since her passing. It brings no comfort but at least ensures I sleep, albeit fitfully. Until the sun again rises and I can return to her graveside.

It's past midnight when I stumble upstairs. I'm nearly to my bedchamber when I hear the small mewling coming from the nursery. My heart tightens. Sarah, serving as my son's nurse, sleeps in the room. She will see to the babe.

The residence goes quiet. All I can hear is the shrieking of the wind beyond the walls. Since Linnie’s passing, it seems more grating, higher pitched. Or perhaps I only imagine that it mirrors the constant screams of sorrow echoing through my head.

I turn for my bedchamber, stop. I've seen the boy this afternoon. Suddenly I have a strong urge to visit with him again. I won't be disturbing Sarah as she is no doubt already up, having done what was necessary to quiet him.

Only when I enter the nursery, I see that the she-wolf leaning over the bassinette, humming softly, isn't Sarah. The nurse is sleeping soundly, snoring quietly, in the small bed in the corner of the room.

My heart lurches. Cautiously, I approach the vision in white. I've imagined seeing her in other rooms, but never quite this clearly. "Linnie?"

She smiles at me. "Don’t look so surprised, Marsden. I promised to never leave you."

I reach out to her, but there's nothing there. She's as substantial as mist, no doubt a figment of my inebriated mind.

"You’re blaming our son, and it’s not his fault," she says.

"I blame myself. If I’d kept my c**k in my trousers." I mumble.

She smiles, "What fun we’d have missed out on."

I can't deny those words. We’d made love in nearly every room. Save this one. The nursery seemed inappropriate.

"Don’t become bitter with regrets, Marsden. Celebrate what we had. Teach our son to love. See that he’s happy." She tells me.

I nod. She’s right. I need to carry on. For Killian’s sake. Killian St. John, future Alpha prince. The precious heir she gave me. "I miss you, Linnie, so damned much."

"I know, but I’m not so far away."

I glance over at the sleeping Sarah. How is it that my speaking hasn't wakened her? When I look back toward the bassinet, Linnie is no longer there, leaving me to wonder if she ever had been.