My Widowed Mate

Trixie

As I breathed in, her scent wafted through the air, teasing my senses. My wolf stirred, his voice whispering "mate" in my mind. I homed in on the fragrance, using my keen sense of smell to track her down. My gaze scanned the mall, locking onto a figure descending the stairs from the second level. With each step, her scent grew stronger. I took a deeper breath, and my senses confirmed she was human. But that didn't deter me - or my wolf. We wanted to claim her, to make her ours. Yet, we knew we had to tread carefully. Humans required patience, trust, and subtlety. We couldn't just reveal our true nature and expect her to accept it. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, our eyes met. Hers flickered, then moved away as if she'd looked right through me. My wolf growled, his discontent echoing in my mind. That's when I saw them - two diamond rings glinting on her left hand. She was taken, bound to another. My wolf's discontent turned to frustration, but I knew we couldn't give up. Not yet.

TRIXIES POV:

I met Brad several years ago, and it felt like the universe had finally aligned in my favor. A year into our whirlwind romance, he proposed to me at the end of a hiking trail, overlooking a picturesque town. I had never been an outdoorsy person, but I did it for him, and it ended up being one of the most magical moments of my life. He dropped to one knee, pulled out a beautiful, simple engagement ring, and asked me to be Mrs. Trixie Lambert. It all feels like a lifetime ago now.

I woke up to the sound of my alarm blaring at exactly 7 am. I groaned, clicking the button to silence it. As I stretched my body out underneath the covers, I considered skipping my morning run. But I knew I'd beat myself up over it all day if I didn't get it done. I'd been too lazy lately, and it was time to get back on track.

As I got ready for my run, I caught a glimpse of my wedding photo on the dresser. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and tied my black hair up into a tight ponytail. I'd been struggling with depression, and it showed in the slight bags under my eyes and the pale tone of my skin. But I was determined to take care of myself, even if it felt like an uphill battle some days.

I pulled on my running gear – black leggings, a sports bra, and a purple tank top – and grabbed my water and AirPods. As I headed out the door, the summer heat hit me like a wall. I hesitated for a moment, tempted to retreat back into the air-conditioned comfort of my home. But I pushed on, selecting a song to jog to as I made my way down the road.

The sun beat down on my shoulders and neck, and I cursed myself for forgetting sunscreen. But the shade of the trees provided some respite, and I found myself picking up the pace as I jogged from one shaded area to the next. Another jogger passed me, yelling a cheerful. "Morning!" as he went by. I flashed him a brief smile, feeling a twinge of competitiveness.

As I turned the corner, a man in a truck slowed down beside me, and a catcall followed. I pretended not to hear him, picking up my pace slightly. Why did some men think it was okay to harass women on their morning runs?

I finished my run, showered, and had breakfast before heading to work. As I stopped for my morning coffee, I realized I'd forgotten my rings and had to go back for them. It was a small mistake, but it felt like a bad omen.

As I pulled into the parking garage, the attendant smiled at me. "Haven't seen you around in a while, Trixie." I forced a polite smile, not wanting to get into a conversation. "I just needed some time off," I said, trying to sound casual.

I made my way to the mall, riding the elevator up to the second floor. The early birds were already out, walking the mall and getting some exercise. I managed a bridal store, and today was my first day back after my...vacation. The thought of it felt like a punch to the gut.

As I unlocked the door and let myself in, I was hit with a wave of emotions. The white dresses on the mannequins, the happy couples in the photos on the walls, the bold black letters spelling out "I do, and forever" – it all felt like a cruel reminder of my own failed marriage. The two rings on my left hand felt heavy, like a constant reminder of what I'd lost.

I took a few deep breaths, trying to compose myself. "Fake it till you make it," I whispered to myself, heading to my office in the back of the store. I could get through this. I had to.