Alpha's to Mate: 3 Book Shifter Romance Bundle

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The next day, at just a few minutes past 7:00, Cole Barron knocked on Tarsha’s door. As he had climbed the stairs, he had made mental notes of all of the repairs that he wanted to see made to the building. His first step, he knew, was to evict the miscreants living in the apartment under hers. He could tell from his few visits to the building that they were loud and messy. Bags of trash stood outside their apartment door and an awful scent emanated from within.

He would have them gone the next day, he told himself. Besides, when Tarsha came to her senses about raising the baby in her apartment, he could expand it without having to move her closer to him. Though he had not been inside her apartment yet, he could tell how small it must be, shoved on one floor of that tiny old brownstone.

What he had not expected was the odd sense of comfort that emanated from within when she opened the door to welcome him. It was very like the feeling that he had when he walked in to his father’s cabin, and that was the only place where he had ever real felt at home.

“You are early,” she remarked as she moved from the door way to welcome him in. There was no denying how pretty she was. Even after slaving over cooking a meal, she was the most appealing thing he had ever seen. As opposed to the flashy dress that she had worn on their first meeting, she now wore a dress he felt was much closer to her true nature. It was pale yellow and looked vintage in style. The skirt flared out, making it look as though she was dancing as she moved through the apartment. She wore a plain silver locket around her neck and had her hair pinned up, drawing his attention to the graceful lines of her shoulders.

He himself had been unsure of what to wear to such a dinner. It was not a date and yet it was a very important evening. In the end, he had decided on a charcoal grey sweater and black slacks. Next to her colorful outfit, he looked like a handsome statue, more stone that flesh and blood.

“Yes, well I usually am,” he said curtly as he walked in to the apartment’s main room. It was as small as he had predicted it would be, but there was a certain charm to it that caught him off guard. The way that she had hung a curtain to separate the rooms made it feel intimate. Her books and paintings scattered about made him feel as though he had been invited in to her most private and creative space, as though he was stepping in to the complicated and glorious mind of the woman who carried his child.

“Come on in,” she said, rolling her eyes and wiping her hands on the gingham apron that she was wearing. She was clearly not yet comfortable with the idea of having him in her sacred space, but she was trying for the sake of the child inside of her and that told him of the quality of her character.

“It smells great in here,” he admitted, surprised by the complex scent coming from her oven.

“Chicken parmigiana,” she said bluntly before adding, “I like to cook.”

“It seems that you are good at it,” he said warmly, surprised at how quickly he was relaxing. He had been more nervous for this simple dinner than anything else in recent memory. Cole had tried to remember the last time that he had purposefully spent an evening with a woman after he had already slept with her, but such a time escaped him. Of course, none of them had ever been pregnant with his baby.

“Wait until you taste it before you decide that,” she said with a laugh. To his relief, she was relaxing as well. He wondered if it was her own nerves that had led her to insist that their dinner be at her apartment. After all, it did give her the home court advantage.

“This art work is beautiful,” he said as he walked around the room, taking in the many colorful details of the place that she called home; the place where she would raise their child. “Where did you buy it?” he asked, a little surprised that someone with so little to their name was able to surround themselves with artwork of such high quality.

“I did not buy it,” she explained as she rushed back over to the stove to check on their dinner.

“I don’t understand,” he said honestly. He usually had no trouble understanding people immediately. It was one of the many perks of his bear senses. Her, though, she was a mystery to him.

“I made it. I am an artist,” she explained as she returned to his side, a glass of wine for him in her hand as she sipped her own glass of water.

“You are very talented,” he said truthfully. Her artwork was complex. There was such a mixture of emotions within them. There was both sadness and hope and it was enough to make him feel things that he thought he had long locked away. Standing there, surrounded by her scent and her artwork, listening to the beat of their baby’s heart within her, he felt as though he was dizzy or lightheaded. It was all so overwhelming.

“Thank you,” she smiled brightly. Most women would have denied their talent, fishing for further compliments. Tarsha, however, was confident in her abilities and proud of her creations. She made no effort to play coy with him. She accepted his compliment with genuine gratitude.

“Why does such a talented artist live in a place like this?” he asked in shock. Her artworks were superior to any of the pieces that he had hanging in his own apartment and he had paid a great deal of money for each and every one of them. None of those, moved him like her artwork did. Not only did her work make him feel like he was peering into o her soul, they made him feel like he was also looking into his own.

“I have never really tried to make money at it. All the cash I do have goes to pay for school,” she said with a shrug as she began to set the table. Her dishes and cups were all mismatched, but there was an odd beauty to that. He had eaten in every five star restaurant in the city and most of the best ones in all of the world during his travels, but there was something much more special about the meal that she was preparing for him. He was suddenly ravenously hungry but he was quite sure that it was his inner bear that was growling with hunger.

“Noble poverty then,” he smirked, walking towards the table and her. Something about her drew him in. Had he not been on his guard, he would have pulled her in his arms then and kissed her. She was so different and so enticing to him. Something within him wanted to possess her, mind and body. He so rarely felt out of control that it put him on his guard and he held himself back. His instincts were telling him to grab her and hold her and drive himself in to her until she had no doubt about who she belonged to. Fighting his instincts was foreign to him, but he had no choice. He told himself that his instincts desired her so because his child grew inside of her. That was all. He did not love her, no matter what the legends said.

“Not everything is about money,” she scolded as she began to make the final touches needed for their meal. Her movements were deliberate yet graceful. It was odd, he knew, but he had never found her lovelier than he did in that moment. Her hair was falling free of the knot she had pinned it up in, curling from the steam of the stove and framing her face, slightly flush from the warmth of the oven. There was something beyond just his instincts that drew her in, but he refused to allow himself to dwell on it.

“Most things are,” he said as he sipped his wine and watched her closely. He had not thought that there were any women in New York City who were so optimistic and naive as to think that money did not matter. Even the women who came to his bed because of his s****l charisma were in part drawn to him because of his financial position and lavish lifestyle. Here was a woman who did not care a bit about that. She was a strange and wonderful creature. He could not believe that he had not realized that on their first night together. Even when he had come to her apartment the first time to accuse her of faking her pregnancy, he had seen only his rage and not the true nature of the woman he had aimed it at.

“So cynical,” she mused as she bent to pull part of the meal from the oven. She gestured for him to sit and he did as she instructed, eager for her to finish with her work and join him at the table. He was suddenly more enticed than he had ever been to have a conversation with a woman and her fussing over dinner was a distraction that he no longer wanted to tolerate.

“Are you my counterpart, forever the optimist,” he said with a smile as she placed his plate in front of him. The food smelled amazing and his companion was lovely. He could not remember a more pleasant evening in his life in the years since he had come to New York. His entire life since then had been spent in the fast lane, doing what everyone else was doing. He had focused on the trendy and elite for so long that he had forgotten what quiet pleasure felt like.

“Oh, I am not optimistic. I simply choose not to let the negative parts of life ruin the rest of it for me,” she countered as she took her own seat across from him.

“Perhaps you have the right idea,” he mused, wondering what his life would be like if he had the same outlook that she did. There was a sweetness and purity to the way that she lived her life, focused on beauty and joy rather than money and power. It reminded him of the way his father carried himself. Though he was the chief of their tribe and the most powerful member of their kind, he cared little for that power. What he cared about was the beauty of nature and the safety and security of his people.

“Come on, dinner is ready,” she urged. He had not realized how lost in thought he had been, but she was clearly worried that the meal before him would get cold before he had the chance to enjoy it.

“Alright then,” he said, lifting his fork and beginning to eat, his mind still racing at all the new thoughts that she was stirring in him. Such thoughts, he told himself,were the reason that he kept all women at bay.

This woman, however, was not one that he could keep at arm’s length. She was carrying his child. Any doubt in his mind had long faded. He needed to get to know her and she needed to know him. It was what they both owed the baby inside of her. They talked about anything and everything during dinner. She told him about her childhood, her artwork, the dear friend who supported her, even the other tenants in the building. He told her about his own youth, his decision to leave home, all the places that his work had taken him, and about the lavish lifestyle that he had built for himself.

It was clear from their conversations that they were very different people, yet the words flew easily between them. She let her guard down and he could not help but do the same. It was as though he had known her for years. In fact, it was difficult for him not to tell her the whole truth about his family and the bear within him. He had not realized how much the secrets burned to be told until he sat across from her at that table. They carried on until the early hours of the morning, until he could see that she was too tired to continue for much longer.

“Thank you for a lovely meal,” he said, still reluctant to go, but knowing it was the right thing.

“You are welcome. I need you to know I meant what I said. I do not want anything from you. I was not trying to trap you or anything,” she said, hating to bring up the ugliness of their previous conversation. Still, she needed to say it and she needed him to hear it.

“I know that now,” he said without hesitation. It surprised her how quickly he answered and how genuine the smile on his face was when he said it.

“I am glad. I do not want anything from you. If you want to know your child, though, I would be glad for you to be in the baby’s life,” she answered, her shoulders squared as though she was prepared for battle. He felt her guard going back up and he did not like it one bit. He wanted her to be open with him, even if he could not be as open with her.

“I would like to be. I never really thought about having a child of my own. The idea is not unappealing,” he laughed, thinking of how much his life had changed since she came in to it. He did not regret any of it. He felt a buzz with the same sense of adventure and discovery that he had when he first came to New York City and it was intoxicating.

“I have always wanted to be a mom. I thought that I never could be. The timing might not be the best, but I am so happy about this baby. It will be so loved,” she assured him, resting a protecting hand on her stomach as she spoke.

“I am glad to know that,” he said honestly. Having grown up without his own mother, he was glad that his child would have one so loving and dedicated. Tarsha would be a good mother to the child. What he needed to decide was if she was worth changing everything for. He had to decide, before the baby arrived, if he was willing to love her for the rest of his life or to lose her to the curses of fate.

“It is getting late. I get tired very easily these days,” she said apologetically as she rose to clear the table. He reached for the plate in front of him to help her, but she playfully swatted his hand away and swooped it up and into the sink before he could object.

“Yes, I should go. When can I see you again?” he asked as he rose and reached for his jacket.

“I will let you know when I have my next doctor appointment. You can come with me if you would like,” she offered, looking genuinely relieved that he planned to be a part of their child’s life. It had weighed on her that her child might be deprived of having a father because of her carelessness in choosing a one-night stand partner. She was quiet, absorbed in her thoughts as she walked him to the door and he was not sure if it was because she was tired or because he had misspoken about something.

“I would like to go with you but I would also like to see you before that,” he said plainly in an attempt to quiet the bear within him that was roaring at the thought of leaving her at all. He thought perhaps if he established a future meeting, he could calm it but the answer that she gave him only made the scream deafening.

“Until the baby comes, there really isn’t a need for that. Good night,” she replied as she opened the door to facilitate his speedy exit. Of course, she’d had a lovely time with him but she did not want him to think again, even for a moment, that she had tried to trap him in something. The two of them spending too much time together before the baby’s arrival was exactly the kind of thing that could give that impression, even if it had been his idea.

Also, she was a bit worried about just how attractive he was to her. When he arrived, his sweater hugging the broad muscles of his chest, she had nearly hyperventilated. Until she could get her arousal in check, she needed to keep her distance. All of the pregnancy books said that it was normal to be hornier than usual, but just the sight of him made her feel things that she never had before and she knew that was dangerous.

“Good night then,” he answered as he listened to her heart race in her chest. He was not sure what was happening and it frustrated him. Most women were so easy for him to figure out but she was an enigma.

She closed the door quickly behind him and he heard her shuffle back to the kitchen to clean up. He tried to make his way back to his car to go home, but the bear within him would not let him leave her yet. He stood outside, in the cold, for hours, listening to the sounds in her apartment and watching her shadow moving in the windows. He needed to know that she was alright, though he had no clue what was bothering her all of a sudden. He watched her clean up the kitchen and listened to the sweet sounds of her singing to herself as she did.

It was not until he heard her go to bed and the shallow breathing of sleep coming from the apartment that he was able to pull himself away. As he finally drove away, he knew he was in trouble with this woman. While his conscious mind might be unsure if he wanted a mate and wife in his life, the bear inside of him had no doubt that the woman in that apartment belonged to them.

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