Page 23 of Reclaiming His Lost Mate (Secret Legacy #3)

S elina

Sure enough, Alexis walked in, two coffee cups in hand.

The simple sight sent a rush of warmth flooding me.

His green earth scent was becoming as essential to me as the caffeine fix he never failed to bring me on the days I did the school run.

He knew I didn’t, generally, have time for a coffee before dropping her off.

“I saw Phil. Apparently, the betting pool is the highest it’s ever been.”

I chuckled. After getting over the whole thing that Tom wasn’t trying to steal me away, Alexis was tickled by how many Matsuna residents were still putting in bets on who would win in the ring.

A spark of amusement moved through me as I thought about how I could sympathize with the residents’ curiosity; who wouldn’t want to see a topless Alexis?

Ever since our kiss a week ago, and with these frequent daily visits, he had often featured in my dreams—often without a stitch on.

As Alexis passed me my favorite oat milk latte from the Wandering Brew, our fingers brushed.

An electric thrill coursed through me. The spark in his blue eyes held a renewed confidence that made my breath hitch, but then I settled into the comforting ritual of sharing my morning brew with my handsome Alpha.

Again, this quiet morning, he seemed content to lean against the counter across from me, sipping his coffee.

Alexis’s gentleness had taken me by surprise.

After our kiss a week ago, I’d expected him to push for us to move forward.

But he hadn’t rushed me into intimacy. Instead, he’d dedicated himself to showing his patience and affection in fostering these little rituals.

“Mia says it’s taco Tuesday,” he said. “Do you want to swing by the shop after picking her up this afternoon, and I’ll cook tonight?”

I nodded. “Sounds great.” It sounded more than great. My wolf did something like a little purr as I pictured Alexis once again in my cabin’s kitchen.

I thought of last weekend that we’d spent together as a family, a collage of shared laughter and stolen glances.

When he’d offered to help me with the dishes, Alexis’s fingers had brushed against mine as I handed him plates, and I’d felt the same charge I had seconds ago flickering between us—a silent promise of more to come.

Each interaction laid the groundwork for something more, a slow-burning desire that we both recognized but I was hesitant to embrace.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that, while I longed for our connection to ignite, a part of me still questioned if I was ready for what that might mean.

I wondered if tonight would finally be the night that it all came to a head. Tension crackled in the air, a thrilling mix of anticipation and trepidation.

In this quiet moment, when Alexis glanced at me with a smile, I wondered if he was thinking similarly. Our newfound connection was slowly dismantling the walls I’d built around my heart—his thoughtful actions quietly telling me that he saw me.

The bell chimed again, and a cry suddenly cut through the quiet. I glanced up to see Jeanie, a shifter mom of two pups, both under the age of five. She carried her youngest, a three-year-old, in a carrier on her front.

“Sorry, Selina,” she apologized, trying to bounce the little one as he screamed. “He’s really suffering this morning. And I don’t know how it happened, but I’m out of agglikkuk.”

I smiled in understanding, quickly going to my shelves. I frowned at the empty jar. “Hang on a moment. I just need to get some from the back,” I told Jeanie.

The staple herb was a crucial one to many of my shifter clientele.

The soft, brown bark, when steeped in a tea or tincture, was a remedy for many ailments.

It soothed teething pains in the young—helping restless pups.

For the teens, it helped with their first shifts, providing relief during those challenging growth phases.

Agglikkuk also reinforced bone strength for the shifters in general, whose bodies endured frequent transformations.

Without it, fractures and fatigue after or while in their wolf forms were far more likely.

In the back, I rummaged through my stock cupboard, only to remember it had been a month since I’d had the new supply come in.

There was a bunch of kiva and palliks from the last month that needed sorting, but otherwise, my stock was looking slim.

I checked the date and thanked Igaluk that the cargo plane was due in today.

Tom would deliver some today or tomorrow.

I’d phone him this morning and ask him to stop by with the new stock today.

I rifled through my remaining supplies, my heart sinking as I saw I’d have to sell the last of my wares.

Part of me was reluctant, in case there was anything more urgent that might need tending to—such as a shifter with a broken bone.

But just then, Jeanie’s little son let out a sharp wail going straight to my heart.

“The Moon Goddess is smiling on you, Jeanie,” I said as I returned with the big bit of bark. “This is the last of it until the delivery today.”

“He’s a lively little guy, isn’t he?” Alexis said, catching hold of Jeanie’s kid’s fist and distracting him from his crying.

“Keeps me on my toes,” Jeanie agreed. “You’re the best, Selina,” she added, smiling gratefully. She was soon out the door, obviously eager to get the bark into a tincture for the pup’s gums.

The next moment, the phone rang. “Selina’s Botique,” I answered.

“Hi, Selina, it’s Tom.”

“Oh hey, Tom. I was actually just about to call you.”

“If it’s about the latest delivery, bad news, I’m afraid. The plane’s been canceled due to the storm. And the forecast isn’t looking good. Might be another week before the supplies get through.”

I’d seen news about the storm sweeping through the northern lands—where agglikkuk thrived—but I hadn’t realized it might affect the plane.

The lands to the north, between Matsuna and the Silver Moon territory, with mountains and tumultuous weather, rendered the area dangerous at the best of times.

But with the stormy weather, it wasn’t surprising.

“Shit. I’m completely out of agglikkuk. Can you get me some from another distributor?”

“I’ll do some ringing around, Selina, hunny, but given we’re out in the Styx, I think we’ll likely have to wait until the plane makes it through.”

“Thanks, Tom,” I said, feeling worried as I hung up.

“What is it?” Alexis asked. I realized I was frowning.

“The cargo plane didn’t make it through.

There are storms in the north. It might be a week before they get through.

There’ll be other residents like Jeanie missing the agglikkuk soon.

” I took a final sip of coffee before saying, “I better do some ringing around and see if there are any other suppliers who can tide me over.”

“Of course,” Alexis said understandingly. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do. I’ll see you later for dinner, okay?”

I nodded, grateful for his offer. I grasped the phone tightly, dialing contacts in nearby towns, desperately searching for a supplier who could deliver the much-needed herb.

“No, sorry. We’re out,” one voice after another echoed back on the other end of the line. Frustration gnawed at me. I could see the faces of the residents—the shifters who counted on my herb.

But now, as I came up empty, it struck me like an icy gust of wind: I had no agglikkuk left to fulfill any of their needs.

Worry seeped in; without it, I felt as if I’d let my community down.

Adding to the weight of this new worry was the fact that Alexis texted me later that afternoon: “So sorry, Selina, but I’ve had to go away on unexpected pack business. I’ll be back in a few days, promise.”

With each day that passed, the demand from both shifters grew heavier on my shoulders. Every tinkle of the bell began to fill me with dread as I feared I wouldn’t be able to help them.

As the sun dipped low on the horizon, on the third day of Alexis being gone, I’d almost decided to take a trip north myself.

The shop had been disconcertingly quiet today.

With me being out of such a vital herb, I worried about my inability to serve our small community.

With this feeling worrying me, I decided I’d shut up shop this weekend and venture into the mountains myself.

Lyvia was already watching Mia this afternoon.

I knew she wouldn’t mind if she had her for the weekend.

Just as I resolved on this course of action, the dying sun caught on something golden at the door, and I looked up to see a great, yellow wolf, a saddle bag slung over his back.

A moment later, a tall, familiar figure stood at the door: Alexis.

He strode in, buck-naked now, but it was a testament to the great weariness etched across his features that I was able to focus on his face.

His hair was disheveled, and his face carried a smattering of stubble that made him look even more ruggedly handsome than usual.

I watched, transfixed, as his gaze locked onto mine, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

For a moment, his fatigue seemed to wash away, replaced by an unmistakable spark of excitement.

He strode through the shop, hefting the saddle bag over his shoulder.

The wooden floor creaked beneath his feet, and I knew, in that instant, this was a delivery.

Agglikkuk, its pungent, woody scent, filled the air as he drew closer. Rushing out from behind the counter, my eyes darted to the bag slung over his shoulder, a mixture of confusion and wonder brewing inside me. “How?” I asked with wonder. My expression was slack with astonishment.

“I went to the mountains,” he said as if that were the simplest thing in the world.

But I saw from his weary step that exhaustion was weighing on him, and I clutched his hand, drawing him into the kitchen.

There was a long couch in one corner, where Mia tended to draw or do her homework when she was in the shop with me.

I guided him to sit down, easing off the heavy bag of bark still hanging on his shoulder.

For a moment, I felt a pang of concern as I realized he’d been gone for three days.

Talk about going the extra mile—he’d journeyed into the stormy northern mountains and hand-picked all of this herb because I needed it.

His face was suffused with a gentle smile again that made my heart pound.

That’s when I caught sight of the flower cradled in his hand.

It was a single-stemmed flower, its white bloom shimmering in the low light.

My heart skipped a beat as memories long buried resurfaced.

This was the same flower I'd worn so often as a member of the Nightwing Pack, the same flower my mother had loved. Alexis had seen the flower before when we’d first met in the Nightwing Pack.

A shiver ran down my spine as Alexis carefully handed it to me, his fingers brushing against mine as he did so. For a moment, our gazes locked, and I felt the weight of his eyes upon me—a gentle, tender weight that seemed to hold the world.

A lump formed in my throat as I took the flower from him, the petals perfuming the air with their sweet scent.

Almost as soon as he’d gifted me the flower, the fatigue hanging over him settled deeper into his bones, and he sank back into the sofa, his eyelids unable to fight the lure of sleep as they fell shut.

His selfless act of kindness spoke volumes—the way he'd gone out of his way to ensure I, and by extension, our community, received the herbs we needed, spoke of his generous heart.

It felt, too, as if Igaluk were finally blessing us.

He’d chosen this bloom as part of his declaration to win my heart.

It was the perfect form of a love letter, given that my beloved mother had taught me the language of flowers and their meanings when I was a girl.

And this one, the flower that was mine and my mother’s favorite, meant “penitent love.” It was something that now, as I gazed at Alexis’s sleeping form, carefully guiding him onto his side, seemed like the most beautiful kind of love.

I found a blanket in the back and covered him, watching contentedly as his chest rose and fell and feeling a swell of appreciation for the penitent heart beating in his chest that I knew belonged to me.

In that moment, I felt a wave of love wash over me. It felt as if fate had finally guided us to where we were meant to be because—my heart beat for Alexis, too.