The Code Of The Alpha

I sat down on the bed, my dirty laundry still in my hands. The last time I’d been on that bed, I had gotten off it to throw up. There was a similar feeling in my stomach at that moment.

This relationship is doomed, I thought.

While there was a part of me that was extremely jealous that Luca hadn’t waited for me to have sex for the first time, there was another part of me that sympathized with his reasoning.

It was true that most people waited for their mate to have sex. It was rare to come across someone who didn’t. But those people who I knew that didn’t wait were those, like Luca, who didn’t meet their mate until they were much older.

My mother was one of them. She would always tell me that there was a nagging feeling in the back of her head that told her she would never meet her mate. I could imagine Luca probably heard the same voice.

That was something to sympathize with.

The more reasonable parts of me, however, understood why people waited for their mate

After being around your mate’s scent for twenty-four hours and not indulging the sexual desires that were elicited by the pheromones their scent produced, your body takes matters into its own hands and sends you into Heat.

This is to physically urge you to be close to your mate and pull you into a more vulnerable state that will help lower inhibitions and lead you into sex with your mate. If it doesn’t work the first time you go into Heat, your body will send you into Heat every full moon after that until you have sex with your mate.

I had heard of people who met their mate shortly before their mate was killed that suffered through Heat for the rest of their lives because they were unable to consummate their bond. It was a miserable life that I couldn’t imagine living, especially since Heat got worse and worse with each full moon.

Heat doesn’t occur in people who have already had sex because the body is unable to detect the difference in the hormones produced by sex with a mate and sex with someone else.

In other words, you’re immune to the pheromones released by your mate’s scent because you’ve experienced them before. The only problem with this is that those pheromones are necessary to build a strong bond between you and your mate.

According to my mother, my parents had a rough first few years together because of this. They had to work to build their affection for one another because they didn’t have their mate bond to help.

I didn’t want to go through this with my mate, which is why I waited. Unfortunately, my mate hadn’t shared the same sentiments.

Instead of allowing myself to sit on the bed and wallow in self-pity, I made myself get up and change out of Luca’s t-shirt. I brushed my teeth and hair, made the bed and straightened up the room before going back downstairs to get my canvas from Luca’s truck.

I needed time to think and painting was the best way to do that. When I came down the stairs, I saw Luca standing at his kitchen counter drinking coffee.

“I half expected you to come down with your bags packed,” he said honestly.

“Hitch-hiking back to Oregon isn’t exactly safe,” I said.

“Besides, going into Heat every full moon for the rest of my life doesn’t sound fun.”

He turned to look at me, placing his coffee cup down on the countertop as he did so.

“Well, we could fuck on the kitchen table and I’ll give you the keys to my truck when we’re done. You’ll be home before dark.”

It took me a moment to realize I had stopped breathing. “Are you being serious?” I asked.This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

“Dead serious.”

I thought about it for a moment, still trying to decipher the look on his face to see if he was simply flirting or actually being that blunt.

“As enticing as that sounds, I think l’Il pass,” I said slowly.

Luca shrugged, picking his coffee cup back up.

“Let me know if you change your mind.”

It would have been hot if it weren’t for the stone-cold look on his face when he’d said it. Clearly, I’d struck a nerve in our exchange on the staircase.

Luca walked past me, his arm brushing mine as he did. I watched as he walked down the staircase into the basement, still drinking his coffee.

As soon as he was out of sight, I left the kitchen and walked outside to the garage with my mind still spinning. My painting was still in the backseat of his truck, covered by the sheet.

I grabbed it and started to shut the car door.

As I was doing so, I caught a glimpse of the keys that were laying in the dashboard and I froze. Standing there for a few moments, I fought the urge to jump in

the truck and flee.

But there was something that stopped me.

I felt as though I was tethered to that place by an imaginary rope that would stop me from ever getting too far away from Luca again.

As much as I hated to admit it, Luca was right: being separated would never be possible. I couldn’t leave him in Montana any more than he could leave me in Oregon.

Taking a deep breath, I shut the car door and carried the painting inside. Just outside my bedroom on the third floor was an open loft that overlooked the living room.

It was an empty space with bare built-in bookshelves. I knew it would be a perfect place to paint because of the ample natural lighting that flooded in through the large windows on either side

of the room. I set up my canvas against the wall and went into my room to grab my paint supplies from my suitcase and a pillow to sit on.

After getting a cup of water and a towel, I sat down to get to work.

A few hours passed before my hands started to shake, making me realize just how hungry I was. I stopped painting and went downstairs to get my plate of barbecue out of the fridge.

The house was quiet, as it had been all day.

There had been no sign of Luca since he’d descended down into the basement that morning. I ate the leftovers quickly after warming them in the microwave.

The problem was: I was still starving when I finished.

Walking across the kitchen, I opened the butler’s pantry to see mostly empty shelves. The only items in the pantry were a half-eaten bag of potato chips, two boxes of Pop-Tarts, and a cereal box.

Is there a famine in Montana that I don’t know about?

I went to the refrigerator and the freezer to see similar remnants of junk food and bare shelves.

What the hell does he eat?

Deciding I couldn’t live in a house with no food, I went upstairs to grab my wallet out of my backpack.

There was still no sign of Luca as I put my shoes on, left the house and walked over to the garage where his truck was still parked. I got into the driver’s seat and slid the seat forward almost the entire way before I could reach the pedals with my feet. Opening the garage door, I started the truck and put it in

reverse.

It had begun to rain as I pulled the truck out of the garage and drove down his driveway. The gate opened automatically and I turned out onto the empty street.

Once I was able to remember my way back to the entrance, the guards let me out without question and I was out on the highway in no time, using the truck’s GPS to find the nearest grocery store.

Nearly three hours later, I returned to the pack with hundreds of dollars in groceries that were all crammed into the back and passenger seat.

Once again, the guards let me pass through the border gate without question.

I somehow remembered my way back to Luca’s house, even though it was dark out and the rain, which was falling heavier now, hindered the visibility out of the front windshield.

I pulled into Luca’s driveway and stopped next to the PIN pad. After I punched in the same number that I saw Luca use the day before, the gate opened

The house was dark as I pulled up to it, the headlights of the truck illuminating the outside of the garage as I parked there and pressed a button on the remote to open the garage door.

Nothing happened.

I groaned as I pressed the button rapidly a few more times. The garage door still didn’t move.

Perfect.