Page 26 of Brutal Alpha Beast (Roseville Alphas #2)

We’re in the meeting room. I’m standing behind Danielle with my arms braced, ready to catch her if she falls.

Her eyes are closed, and she’s chanting as she holds her hand up to the tapestry.

To my understanding, although I don’t claim to understand it much at all, the first step for this new spell is for her to reproduce the magic she felt from the vines.

She’s been trying to spark it all morning, but no matter what she does, nothing happens. Or so she claims. She’s made progress; she just likely doesn’t see it.

She can be way too hard on herself.

I’ll notice a glow, a few sparks here or there, and it seems like it’s working, but then nothing.

She keeps telling me that she’s failed, but I know that’s not true.

Danielle gasps for air and falls back into my arms. I hold her in place.

A few moments later, her eyes blink open, and she steadies herself against my chest.

“Even worse,” she groans. “I got nothing that time.”

“It’s okay,” I tell her, moving strands of hair off her face. “So, you’ll try again, but not now, you’re burning up.”

I lead her to the nearest chair, where she slumps with a quiet sigh.

“I’m gonna get some water,” she says, but I reach down and hand her a bottle I’ve been keeping chilled in a portable cooler.

“I got you.”

She smiles, bringing it to her lips. “I feel like a baby,” she says.

“You are,” I tease.

Mid-sip, she playfully hits me.

I laugh. “In all seriousness, Danielle. You’ve been working harder than anyone I know.”

***

We’re trying again. This time, we’ve taken the tapestry and are testing it outside.

Danielle always says that the elements help. She was having nightmares last night, continuously waking up screaming.

It’s overcast, and I’m in my wolf form upon request. She says that might help, too.

Danielle has her eyes shut, chanting as she rests her hand on the tapestry.

She’s trying a different spell to conjure the magic this time.

I helped with extracting all the different options noted in the books.

It’s good to know I’m helping even though nothing has worked.

I watch as a faint glow sparkles around her and then the tapestry.

It’s weak, white-like mist—barely there. Then something else happens.

In the center of the tapestry, there’s a spark. Like striking a match, it’s powerful and bright.

Then there’s another one—and then there’s what looks like a magical flame.

Danielle sways back and forth.

Come on.

I want to edge closer, but I don’t move, I don’t want to mess anything up—my paws are planted firmly on the ground.

Danielle rocks a little more, her chanting gets louder, and the flame expands.

I hold my breath, focus my eyes, as though I’m casting magic, too.

Being so involved in this process has made me feel like I’m casting, and it’s exhausting; I can’t imagine how tiring it would be if I actually were.

The flame expands and then, in an instant, is gone.

Danielle screams—a guttural moan of pain.

I shift back and catch her just in time before she collapses to the floor.

“Shh,” I soothe, wrapping my arms around her shaking body. “You’re fine. You’re safe.”

She’s burning hot, and I grab one of the bottles of water, pressing it to her head.

Her shaking starts to lessen, but she’s still muttering to herself with words that are so quiet, I can barely hear them.

Maybe she’s still casting.

“It’s time to stop,” I murmur into her ear.

“It didn’t work,” she whimpers. “I was so close, but it didn’t work.”

I hold her for a little while, and she settles against my chest.

“Let’s go back,” I say. “We have a communal lunch at the pack. You can rest for the afternoon.”

Her eyes are closed, but she’s awake, and she shakes her head.

“No, I don’t have time,” she responds coolly. “I’m going to rest for five minutes, and then we’ll try again. I was close.”

I want her to figure it out, but I don’t want her to kill herself in the process.”

“And what if I say no?” I ask her. “As your Alpha?”

She opens her charming, sparkling eyes and flashes a weak grin. “Well, Alpha, then you’ll have to disown me because I won’t listen.”

***

It’s been almost a week of trying and failing, and on a rainy morning, we’re outside trying again. We’re covered beneath some trees, the raindrops falling off the edges of the leaves on either side of us.

Danielle is hovering over the tapestry with a towel draped across her back.

“The rain should stop in the next twenty minutes,” I say, crouching as I look out at the flooded forest.

It’s difficult to keep morale high after days and days of nothing, but I know that Danielle is getting close.

“The rain is fine,” she says, “It might actually be helpful.”

“You ready?”

She nods, then she kneels, holding the towel over her and the tapestry so it doesn’t get wet. She takes a breath, closes her eyes, and places her left hand onto the tapestry page.

I watch her proudly as she chants and sways. Little sparks are forming already. Any hate I felt toward witches seems ridiculous now; her power is amazing.

After a couple of minutes, she leans forward, planting her hands onto the floor. Quickly, I come behind her, supporting her back with my arm.

I’m prepared for her to tell me that she needs to rest for a few minutes, and then she’ll be ready to go again, but this time she doesn’t.

“I’m exhausted,” she says. “I think we should stop.”

“Of course,” I reply. “We can take the morning off.”

“The whole day,” she says.

I want Danielle to rest as much as she needs, but a nagging voice tells me that something must be wrong. Something she’s not saying. She usually pushes herself to the limit, and she won’t stop, at least not until early afternoon each day.

“Let’s wait,” I tell her. “For the rain to stop.”

She nods, putting the tapestry back in her backpack, and we lean together against the tree.

I’ve asked her if she’s doing okay so many times that, at this point, I know she’s tired of hearing it, but something seems off.

“What happened?” I ask her.

Little droplets of rain fall off her curls, her eyes look tired, and she stares out at the forest with a look on her face that I can’t quite make out.

“Tired is all,” she says. “I want to be careful.”

“I want you to be careful too,” I reply. “But something seems different this time. Did you see any visions?”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s not.”

Then, her voice trails off. There’s something she’s not saying.

Danielle is pretty secretive, and I feel like I’ve figured out when she’s hiding things now.

“I don’t want to push you,” I say. “But remember, you can tell me things when they’re bothering you.”

I’m looking at her now, and she gazes up at me.

I feel so close to her. Like I have the patience of a lifetime, which is something extremely new for me.

“You’re not,” she shakes her head. “You’re perfect. I just find it hard to always say everything that’s going on.”

I smile. “I know you do.”

She takes a deep breath, as though what she’s going to say needs to be physically forced out of her.

“Woah,” she sighs. “This is harder than I thought.”

I take her hand into mine. She feels cold, rather than hot, like she usually does after casting. She’s trembling, too.

“It’s okay,” I tell her. “Whatever it is.”

She parts her lips slightly, sighs again, and then tells me two words that take a few seconds to register.

“I’m pregnant.”

I blink.

I don’t respond at first. I can’t. I’m in shock.

“It’s yours, of course, and I don’t want you to feel like you need to help me with looking after the child or anything. I know that you didn’t ask for this.”

She looks nervous and afraid.

“Come here,” I say, taking her into my chest.

My heart is beating at lightning speed. I can’t believe that I’m going to be a father. I can’t fathom it.

I’m shocked, but then I’m overwhelmed with joy.

“I can’t wait to be the father of our child, Danielle. This is amazing.”

She freezes in my arms.

“You mean that?” She asks, shocked.

“Unless it’s not mine,” I joke.

She laughs in my arms. “Oh, it’s yours, all right. I can feel its energy.”