My Jolly Alpha - Burgov Series V

9. Markella

It's strange to see how Sasha embraced me just like that. It was too overwhelming to hear her asking to call her Mom. It's been eight years since I have used that word aside from my prayers. Eight long years and I never even thought such a simple request would bring waterworks like that. Even stronger after Orson said his family was always meant to be mine too.

We haven't known each other for that long. Ha, if I count correctly, it's actually less than forty-eight hours, but it all somehow feels so natural. Him wiping my tears or holding my hand. I consider Cilia as my own from basically the day we met. Not to mention being close to him.

It almost makes me anxious when I think about what Dave asked me to do.

I never felt so strongly connected with anyone in my life. Even with Dainen and my grandparents, although we love one another, I had no problem being on my own for a couple of days without reaching out to them.

Yet, with Orson, I have a hard time picturing it.

He held my hand and we sat in silence for a few moments, both taking in the aftermath of the call we just had.

I was glad that Orson's Mother hadn't let me down and she really turned out to be just as caring and perfectly nice as Cilia painted her to be. Now only my mate has to believe that no one sees him as the inadequate problem he thinks he is.

"Do you think your Dad will be equally cool with my presence?" - I asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, he will. He will bore you to death with his talks about destiny." - Orson nodded - "You know my Mom is actually his second chance mate."

"For real?!" - I gasped with my eyes going big. - "I thought that was just a myth everyone heard about, but no one actually saw."

"Yeah, well, it's not." - Orson chuckled, seeing my reaction - "Dad used to tell me that Mom appeared when he needed her the most, when he was at his rock bottom. The two of them were always strong believers of a bigger plan guiding all our lives, so be prepared for him telling clichés like it was meant to be, everything happens for a reason, or some s**t like that."

I giggled, thinking it didn't sound so bad.

"And I assume you look more like him, since you have neither porcelain skin or blonde hair like your Mom does?" - I asked, making him throw his head back and laugh.

He looked so handsome when he laughed. His olive skin and almost black hair weren't an obstacle to that, but I believe seeing with his own eyes how supportive his Mom was, took some weight off his shoulders. Carelessness looked good on him.

"You got me there." - he said, wheeling his chair to the wall of shelves behind his desk and taking a picture frame from it and coming back to hand it to me. - "I believe that would answer who I look more like."

I took the picture frame from him and marveled at the perfect family in the photo.

I right away recognized Sasha standing in the middle with a big, proud smile on her face and a few wrinkles less than I saw today, but even that hadn't taken anything from her stunning, effortless beauty.

A handsome man had his arm wrapped around her shoulders, focusing all his attention on her, instead of on whoever was taking the picture. He had the same, a bit Mediterranean look as Orson did. He had the same strong jawline and straight nose my mate has. And although Orson seems a bit bigger than his father, the biggest difference, or maybe should I say the only real one, were their eyes. Where Orson's are gray, his father's were almost black, making him look a bit more serious.

Then I glanced at three teenagers surrounding the older couple.

A beautiful girl with dark hair and an honest, inviting smile, who looked almost as if her and Cilia could be real sisters, with the obvious fact that the girl in the picture was the nicer one, stood next to their father.

Next to her a teenage boy with a mischievous smirk on his face that looked almost as if he was Orson's twin, was standing next to her with his arm casually thrown over Uliana's neck. He looked like a troublemaker in the group.

And on the other side of their mother was Orson. His hands clasped behind his back, and he looked confident with his head held high. But the lack of a smile somehow threw me off.

"What's with the face?" - I asked, looking up at him.

"You mean why am I so handsome?" - he grinned.

"No." - I rolled my eyes. - "Why aren't you smiling like everyone else?"

"Oh. I don't know." - he shrugged - "It was probably taken after yet another life-changing lecture from my parents."

I looked at him and then back at the photo in my hands.

"So you think you will ever be able to have a good relationship with them?" - I asked.

"It technically isn't bad, but there is that strange stiffness between us. I think they don't know exactly how to talk to me anymore." - he explained, and I nodded, hoping I got him right.

"You know life has a funny way of playing with us." - I said, tracing my finger over each of the VanWoerts faces in the picture - "You have perfectly good parents, yet you don't know how to be honest with them. And here I am, ready to give anything up, to have one more conversation with my father or to smile at my Mom's burned burgers. That woman was able to make tea out of absolutely anything, but she couldn't cook a proper meal even if her life depended on it." - I looked up at him, and I could tell the subject was making him uncomfortable. - "I won't pressure you or anything, but if they'll have me, I would want to have a relationship with all of them." - I said giving the picture back to Orson.

"They will want that too." - he assured me. - "And it's not like there is some grudge, it's just… I don't actually know what it is. But I always rebelled against the rules and expectations they had for me."

"Maybe they wanted you to just have a simpler life than the one they had." - I pointed out.

"Yeah, maybe." - he shrugged, putting the picture back in its rightful place.

"But you know, Orson, it's your life in the end. You should live it the way you want it to. And I know what I'm talking about, because my family hasn't agreed with my every decision either."

"What do you mean?" - he asked curiously, tilting his head to the side, and I once again caught myself on how little we actually knew about one another. Yes, I felt amazing in his presence, but he had no clue about the majority of the things I did or went through over the last twenty-five years I've been walking on this earth.

"I told you before how my people trust natural medicine, right?" - Orson nodded slowly - "So, it's been passed down for generations in my family how to use plants and herbs to relieve the pain, sleep better and so on. My grandmother does that, and so did my Mom before... you know. But anyway, when I started studying the field myself, I wanted to explore more than just medicine. I found recipes that could kill, sedate, or drug you, and I pursued my studies, infuriating my Grandma with no end. She found my work dangerous and more than once told me to give it up, but I never did. At least not until I left my homeland with Cilia, which too wasn't what my family wanted me to do." - I explained.

"So you're kind of a wild one too, huh?" - he grinned in that disarming boyish way that made me laugh.

"I wouldn't say wild, but I'm not the one to always listen, and I think it's good to find your own path."

"I like how that sounds." - he agreed - "However, I have no idea what mine might be. My father was more than accomplished. Sure he had his infamous moments too, from what I've heard, and I think he was always afraid I would become like he was before meeting Mom."

"And what was he like then?" - I asked.

"A useless drunk who let his baby sister run the entire pack from the back seat." - he said with distaste on his face and glanced at me - "His first mate was killed and he kinda spiraled down from that moment."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know." - I said in a small voice - "Then what changed?"

"From what I know, he ended up in jail, awaiting his execution, and that's when he met Mom."

"So why are you so out of yourself whenever they are mentioned? It sounds like he was a lot worse than you are." - I pointed out.

"Yeah, but I constantly feel like I'm walking in his shoes and they don't fit me. I do everything just like he taught me to, just to get him off my hair. I hate my title and how it turned me from Orson to Alpha all of a sudden."

So that's what this was all about. Orson's father was hard on him because he was trying to protect him from past mistakes. But that's one of the issues in probably every parent's way of thinking. You can't always prevent bad things from happening.

"Orson, but you aren't him. You will not reach the bottom rock, nor will you have to follow in his footsteps. Yes, you got your title from him, but you can do whatever you want with it. You deal the cards now. So the question is who Orson VanWoert wants to be?" - I asked, squeezing his hand.

"I have no idea." - he admitted, looking down at my hand resting on top of his.

"Then we'll figure it out together." - I assured him.

"It doesn't bother you?" - He asked, meeting my etyes.

"No." - I shook my head - "But your mark on another woman does. Let this one be your only slip, okay?"

He started chuckling and nodded.

"Sure, the next time I mark someone, it'll be you." - he said, looking intently into my eyes, and once again the atmosphere between us started getting heavy.

"I'm fine with that, big guy. But let's first take care of the first mark, shall we? Call you Uncle, just like your Mother told you to, and I'll go see Cilia, or she will probably send a search party after me." - I said, standing up, deciding to break the moment before it gets out of control.

"Fine. But I'm crashing at your room again tonight, and we're gonna do some mean hugging." - he said, wagging his brows and making me laugh. At least he could find something funny in our current predicament.

"Wow, hugging, huh? That sounds hot." - I told him, playing this little game.

"You know it, with me everything is hot." - he said, casually lifting the hem of his polo shirt, revealing a set of perfectly sculpted abs hidden underneath. For the love of the Goddess, who has perfect muscles while sitting?

"You better start acting quick, because I feel my self-restraint slipping fast." - I muttered, still staring at his stomach, even though it was once again all covered.

"Maybe that's exactly what we should do?"

My eyes finally met his and I was pretty certain he wasn't joking.

"Let's call it plan B. For now, call your Uncle and I will go wipe off that drool." - I joked, brushing my hand over my mouth, before turning away from him, and leaving him laughing at me.

I went to Cilia's room, telling her a lie that my folks said hi, and then joined her in planning the upcoming party.

She actually had most of it already figured out, and I was given semi-important tasks like checking the playlist and deciding on which side of the massive tent the food should be. Nothing too important, but if Cilia hadn't had all the bases covered, she wouldn't be herself.

"Cilia, I was thinking that maybe we should go to a different pack after the party." - I said casually, after I was done with the work she gave me, trying subtly to create my escape that I agreed on with Dave.

I know I should have told Orson that, but I feel like all his effort would be redirected from exposing Kimmy to making me stay, and I don't want that. He will know when A) I get a solid plan of where to go next and B) when I would be sure he had no way of stopping me.

"Yeah, I suppose." - Cilia agreed with a sigh - "The Wicked Witch of Midnight Banes would probably drink her happiness potion when we're gone."

Her words brought me both relief that she wasn't fighting me on that idea, and chills, because of the words my friend had chosen.

The potion might be the exact thing Kimmy was using to get my scent. I don't know how, and I don't know which one, but I can feel it in my gut.

"Markie!" - she said my name, snapping her fingers in front of my eyes.

"Huh? I'm sorry I spaced out." - I said hastily.

"I can see that." - Cilia announced, searching my face suspiciously - "I was asking where would you want to go? The Harvest Moon is the closest one, just an hour away. Then we have Stealth Death and Night Walkers, both in Washington, so it's pretty far."

"We can go to Harvest Moon." - I suggested - "You said you wanted to help out Uliana, right?"

"Yeah." - she nodded. - "But I wanted to check with you first."

"I'm fine with whatever you choose." - I said, trying to smile at her, but my mind was already somewhere else.

I rushed through the conversation with my best friend, feeling shitty as hell that I was giving her half-assed answers and only a speck of my attention, and I soon excused myself and went to my room.

In the solitude of my bedroom, I called the one person I told Cilia I needed to talk to before, my Grandma.

I couldn't tell her everything that happened to me, because she would right away call Cilia to talk about the greatest news of me finding my mate. So, instead, I weaved an even bigger web of lies, about meeting a girl who could change her scent, and I asked my Grandma if she might know how she did it.

If what Kimmy used was anything that was ever discovered by my tribe, I was pretty certain Grandma knew about it, or at least knew where to look for it.

But Grandma got evasive, probably thinking that was just yet another of my experiments, no matter how much I begged her to help me. She either knew I was lying, which in her case was very probable, or she simply thought I was about to use the blend on myself, making my great idea another dead end.

After hanging up on her, I unpacked all my books, spread them on the bed and went through each and every one that could have brought me some results, but so far with no luck. I didn't have the slightest idea of what I was looking for. I didn't know the ingredients or the name of the potion, so it felt like an endless reading of effects that made my head spin.

I took a small break for dinner just to get back to my work as soon as I felt full, and I didn't even blink when it was almost midnight and Orson snuck into my room again.

"What's all this?" - he asked.

"Books." - I answered, flipping to another page.

"Thanks for that, Sherlock. But what are you reading about?"

I put down the book in my hands and looked at him.

"I have a hunch that Kimmy is using some kind of brew to change her scent, and I'm checking if I'm right." - I explained.

"Ugh!" - he groaned - "Enough about her. I spent the entire day talking about her. Could there be just us two for at least a few hours?"

I didn't want to stop my search, especially now that I might be onto something, but the stress and fatigue on his face made me rethink my options. He needed me, and I'm not going to fail him.

"Okay." - I agreed, putting my books into a neat pile and placing them on the vanity desk in the corner. Then I walked towards him, cupping his face. - "How are you?"

"Fine. Although I had to talk with her once again, inviting her to a dress shopping." - he rolled his eyes, sounding as if that was the worst thing in the world.

"Poor, baby. Forced to go through with your two arch nemesis, shopping and crazy wannabe Luna." - I cooed at him, and a dangerous lopsided smile blossomed on his face.

"If I could have, I would slap you for that right about now." - he said.

"So maybe it's a good thing you can't." - I said with a wink, pulling him towards my bed. - "Come lie down with me."

Orson didn't have to be told twice. He already knew the drill after the last two nights he spent in my room, and just like he promised back in the office, he held me close and breathed in my scent to find some peace in the strange situation we'd found ourselves in.

Neither of us had to talk, because I somehow knew the situation was weighing on him and each day brings even more distress. To be honest, I was getting scared of what tomorrow might bring us.

But at the same time, being next to him, with his strong hand holding me in place, I felt so right that it was sometimes hard to remember about Kimmy and everything she brought with her. It was just the two of us, in a cozy bed, snuggling together, listening to each other's heartbeats..

My eyes were getting heavier and heavier, when suddenly the door to my room swung open, startling us both, and making us sit up straight like two scared teenagers who were caught canoodling.

I was so shocked that the door was unlocked, because Orson never forgot to lock it properly when we were alone, that I hadn't at first registered what was going on and who came in. But the icy-blue eyes shining with wild and unstoppable fury made me realize my mistake.

The blood drained off of my face as I stood still like a damn imbecile facing my best friend after being caught spooning with her cousin, who, in her opinion, was taken.

Cilia walked into my room, closing and locking the door behind her, and facing us both.

"I came here for the charger, because I accidentally decapitated mine." - she started and her voice was terrifyingly steady and calm. - "But imagine my surprise when I walk in on you with my Cousin in your bed." - Cilia crossed her arms, and pushed her hip to the side. - "You two better have a real good explanation, or there will be blood. However, I'm not sure whose."