Page 20 of Running with the Alpha’s Son (The Alpha’s Son #3)

THE DISTANCE BETWEEN US

We sit by the fire facing each other. Jasper pulls his pack to him and rummages around in it before grabbing out the hessian bag full of whatever he bought at the crystal and incense shop in town. He tosses his pack aside and opens the bag.

“Whatcha got there?” I ask, rubbing my knees a little nervously.

“Just some things that are supposed to help with the mind-link.”

Almost ceremoniously he pulls items from the bag, one by one, and starts placing them around us. The first is a large crystal, the pastel-pink color of Turkish delight, which he sits between us.

“This is rose quartz,” he says. “It’s good for removing emotional blockages and balancing chakras.”

“Blockages and what? You think we’re blocked?”

He smiles at me, the fire dancing in his eyes. “No. It’s just an aid, to help open the channels of emotional connection.”

I quirk an eyebrow at him and he tilts his head, his expression softening.

“Don’t read too much into it.”

“Okay, what else you got in there Mary Poppins?”

He pulls out another crystal, this one a little smaller and a deep, stunning purple. In the darkness of the night the surface reflects the fire and the stars like oil.

“This is amethyst. It’s supposed to help us communicate on a spiritual level.”

He places the amethyst to his right and goes back to the bag. The next crystal is blue and semitransparent.

“Chrysocolla.”

“Gesundheit.”

He shakes his head gently. “This is supposed to amplify our ability to empathize, giving us a greater chance at hearing each other.” He pulls one last crystal from the sack. “And finally, citrine.”

“Let me guess, for citrusy freshness?”

“No,” he says, scolding playfully. “For positivity.”

“Oh, right. What’s left?”

The last few items he pulls out at once: a stick of incense, which he lights on the fire and places between two rocks so it stands upright, and a bouquet of dried herbs. “Calamus to amplify our voices, blue vervain to clear our minds, and thyme—”

“For the roast chicken?”

He rolls his eyes. “Thyme to attract loyalty, love, and to increase our psychic powers.”

With a gentle wave he wafts the herb bouquet in the air around us then places it next to the rose quartz.

“You really went to town,” I say.

“I wanted to give us the best shot at linking.”

My stupid cynical heart melts. He’s done all this so that we can get closer. I should be less teasing and more focused.

“I’m sorry, I’m just not used to all this sort of stuff.”

“I know it’s a little out there,” he replies. “But if it helps, there’s some science to it—especially for us. The energy of the moon interacts with the crystals, which interacts with our brain waves and our connection to other wolves through pheromones, bloodlines, and our senses. The herbs are medicinal, just like the ones Agatha made that tea from that helped soothe your headaches.”

“The incense?”

Jasper shrugs. “That’s mostly just for atmosphere.”

“Thank you,” I say. “For going to all this trouble.”

“Max.” Jasper takes both my hands. “I want to make this work.”

I chew the inside of my lip for a moment, feeling just a little overwhelmed. Under the blanket of stars I feel small, like a speck of dust in an eternal desert. The fire is hot and bright and I’m surrounded by crystals and herbs. But in front of me is the most stupidly handsome guy, asking me to try and connect with him, to shorten the distance between us, and after everything we’ve been through I owe it to us to try.

“Me too,” I say. “Shall we?”

“Close your eyes.”

I do as Jasper says.

“Breathe.”

I fill my lungs and exhale slowly.

“Focus.”

I let my consciousness expand into the inky blackness, darker than the night sky.

“Reach out.”

Like a homing pigeon I plunge through the darkness, traversing it at neckbreaking speed, looking for a connection, for those red veins that represent the wolves of the world. Jasper’s presence looms like a warm haze before me, but for whatever reason I can’t find him in the void. Maybe it’s because we’re farther away from our pack or from wolves in general, but the darkness of my mind, usually crowded with veins, branching and crossing like an overgrown tree, is especially empty. There are no signs of red, just darkness.

Why can’t I find him? He’s sitting right in front of me. Shouldn’t I be able to find the thread of his consciousness and latch on to it? Shouldn’t I simply be able to reach out and speak to him? Why can’t I seem to connect to the person who means the most to me?

I grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes together, concentrating harder, trying to push through the dense, dark fog. And I realize something isn’t right. How can there be no signs of wolf life at all? Yes we’re far away, but that shouldn’t matter. Back in New York I could sense wolves from across the country, even other countries—there was so much noise it was a constant battle to block it out—and now nothing, silence, not even the voice of my mate.

Something must be blocking me. I remember the positions of the crystals Jasper laid out and think about what he said, that they were channels through which we could access lunar energy. I focus on pulling that energy toward myself, let it flood into my body, and almost instantaneously, the fog begins to lift. My muscles are enlivened. My skin tingles. The veins of life fade in like lights on a dimmer switch slowly rising. The familiar fizzle and crack of energy arrives. And there before me is Jasper. He’s not just a warm blob, he’s a glowing light. At this close proximity his thread is no longer red, but a burning yellow, like the sun. I’m about to speak to him, to link our minds, when I feel a tug from behind me, and as I turn to see what it is, the familiar ear-piercing howl breaks through, and the feeling of something slamming into the side of my skull knocks me sideways.

I topple over, knocking the crystals out of formation as I sprawl on the desert floor clutching my head.

“Max!” Jasper is instantly next to me, his hands holding me, supporting my head so I don’t smash it against a nearby rock. “What happened?”

I glance up at him, grimacing through the pain. “It didn’t work.”

“You feeling all right?” Jasper asks, crouching in the entrance of the tent. I’m already wrapped in my sleeping bag, facing the fabric wall.

“Uh-huh,” I mumble.

Jasper crawls in, placing his toothbrush and toothpaste in a small wash bag by the entrance, then positioning himself behind me, draping his unzipped sleeping bag over himself.

“I’m sorry you got hurt,” he says, gingerly placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Not your fault.”

“I’m sure it’ll work, we just have to figure out what’s going on. Maybe the blood-wolf thing is messing up your thoughts.”

I grunt. “Maybe.”

Jasper lingers a moment longer, before lying his head on the pillow beside mine. He moves his hand from my shoulder to my waist, slipping it under my arm.

“We’ll keep trying,” he says. I don’t respond, instead pressing my lips together. “Max, is something else wrong?”

With a sharp exhale I voice the fear that’s been gnawing at me since we tried linking for the first time. “What if we can’t do it? What if—what if we aren’t meant to?”

“Lots of wolf couples can’t mind-link. It’s not an easy thing to do. But I’m sure—”

“ We should be able to. You said yourself, you have your heightened alpha abilities and I’m the freaking blood wolf. If we can’t mind-link then what if…”

“What if what, Max?”

“What if it’s a sign—that we aren’t—that we don’t—?”

“Max?”

“What if this isn’t going to work?”

Jasper’s sleeping bag rustles as he sits up, leaning over me slightly so I can just make out his face in my periphery.

“Is that what’s really bothering you?”

I roll onto my back so I can face him. The corners of his eyes are pinched with a quiet desperation.

“We were paired together by fate or hormones or whatever you want to call it. And not that I’m complaining but who’s to say that’s enough. If we can’t connect like other couples then something must be wrong, mustn’t it?”

“Are you…” Jasper pauses, licks his lips, and presses on. “Are you having second thoughts about us?”

“No!” I rise onto my elbows, trying to decrease the amount of space between us to show him I’m not the one backing out. “No, I’m not having second thoughts.” I reach up and touch his face. “But so much of our lives are governed by the moon and our wolf selves. I’m just scared that if we can’t mind-link, there must be a bunch of other things we can’t connect over. And what if that means we—we aren’t—”

Jasper brushes a curl out of my face and stares down at me with intense feeling in his expression.

“Max, you’re right it was fate that brought us together.” My chest tightens. “But fate has nothing to do with us being together now. Yes, lunar energy might have had a hand in making sure we ran into each other—”

“Literally,” I add.

“But I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be, if I didn’t choose this. Fate may have been the catalyst but it can’t force a person to stay. I want to stay. I want to be with you. Even if fate had told me to date someone else I would still want to be with you.”

I take a breath as my chest relaxes and our eyes stay connected.

“I know I haven’t made that as abundantly clear as I should have…I know I haven’t been the best mate…but I…I love you, Max. I love you. Fate has nothing to do with that.”

All of a sudden my head is spinning and my breaths are coming short and fast.

“I…love you too,” I say.

There’s nothing left to say, so we kiss inside our tent. Outside the stars must still be shining, a glittery blanket cocooning us, the wind still blowing warm and dry, and the moon—somewhere between half and full—glowing as it looks down on us. But none of that matters. The world outside, the rest of wolfkind, the moon gods themselves can’t reach us in here. We’ve run to the desert, the ends of the world, as far as we can go, away from prying eyes, responsibilities, and civilization, to find peace and connection and somehow, despite not being able to mind-link, it’s worked. We’ve reached a deeper understanding of each other, I feel closer to Jasper than ever before.

He unzips the side of my sleeping bag so we can get even closer.

“Is this okay?” Jasper asks as his hand slides up the back of my T-shirt.

“Yes,” I say, completely breathless.

“Do you want to…?”

Again, I say, “Yes.”

I dream of Jasper.

He stands before me wearing a tuxedo. His hair is slicked back, his lips quirked into a smile, his green eyes shining brilliantly in the sun. We’re standing on the roof of a building—the packhouse, only it isn’t. In my dream version this rooftop has a garden: neat topiaries line the balustrade, grass as green as Jasper’s eyes rolls out before us, cherry trees dance in the breeze, letting their petals fall and drift like confetti.

To my left a crowd is seated on white foldout chairs on either side of an aisle. Everyone is here—my parents, Katie, Aisha, Jericho, Mason—wearing formal wear and watching us as we stand before them.

“I’m so happy,” Jasper says, rubbing the back of my hands with his thumbs.

Glancing down, I notice I’m also wearing a suit—a white jacket with a red cummerbund, a black bow tie and pants, shiny patent leather shoes.

I glance between him and the crowd of expectant, happy faces.

“What’s—what’s happening?” I whisper.

He smiles and shakes his head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean why is everyone staring at us?”

“It’s our mating ceremony, Bonehead.”

“Our—what?”

“The happiest day of our lives,” he says and clasps my face.

“You mean we’re…” I look to Katie for answers but she only dabs her eyes with a handkerchief. My mom squeezes Dad’s arm, he’s crying too. Jericho nods at me proudly. And Jasper…Jasper is smiling, staring into me like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “We’re…in front of everyone?”

“Do you accept me as your mate, Maximilian?”

I’m flummoxed. A melon-sized lump forms in my throat as I choke out a response. “Of course I do, but Jasper, can’t we—?”

“Will you accept my mark?”

“Your what?”

Jasper opens his mouth wide enough that I can see his fangs elongating. The crowd leans toward us, edging forward in their seats. To my right is a steep drop, over a hundred stories to the unforgiving pavement below.

“Do you accept my mark?” Jasper repeats, his lip curling back ever so slightly.

The sunny sky is suddenly cloudy, the wind is picking up, tearing blossoms and leaves from the cherry trees until their branches are bare. The crowd runs as rain pelts the roof, toppling over chairs and leaving chaos in their wake.

“Jasper, can we…can we talk…I’m not sure I’m ready.”

Jasper reels back, snapping his slightly lengthened jaws, huffing and growling.

“Stop, Jasper!” I cry out, but I can hardly hear myself over the thunder.

“You reject me?!” Jasper roars.

“No, no, no! Let me explain!”

Lightning crashes close enough I can feel the shock wave as it strikes. When I turn back Jasper is clutching his chest. A bloom of red is spreading from beneath his hands, turning the white fabric of his shirt crimson.

“Jasper?” I step forward but he retreats, his face twisted in pain and disbelief.

“Killer,” he says.

Another flash of lightning and Jasper howls to the sky, his jaws tearing open as he shifts into his wolf form, the clothes exploding off his back as his muscles expand, and he falls onto all fours, scratching at the rain-soaked grass, readying to strike.

“Jasper, I’m sorry!” I cry. “I’m sorry!”

Thunder claps as Jasper leaps, lunging for me with his teeth bared, about to tear me apart when…

I start up in bed, gasping and rising to my elbows.

Jasper is beside me in his wolf form, his shoulders hunched, the hairs along his spine standing upright, growling through the tent’s gaping doorway.

“Jasper?” I ask, wiping the sleep from my eyes. “What’s going on?”

Jasper glances back, his one visible eye large with concern.

The flap of the tent is fluttering in the wind as I crawl forward to see what’s caused Jasper to take this defensive stance.

Blinking in the morning light, I lean through the opening and find myself greeted by over twenty wolves surrounding the entrance to the tent, each growling and showing their teeth.