16 - Regina
I woke up earlier than usual, and for once, my bed didn't feel like a furnace. With an excitement I refused to analyze or acknowledge, I chose my clothes for the day – blue jeans and a black long-sleeved Henley. These casual combos worked best with the haircut I was forced to wear for now. Breakfast had to be casual, even in a palace, right??
David was already in the dining hall when I came down. It seemed oddly empty without all the palace guests that had been here for the trial.
“Good morning, Regina!” he greeted me cheerfully, and I found myself smiling back.
“Good morning, David.”
“Let’s go to my personal dining room, it makes no sense to sit in this huge hall if it’s just the two of us, right?”
“Right,” I nodded and followed him through the double glass doors to an elaborate dining room that held only one table that could seat ten.
The spread the cook had prepared was impressive, considering we were the only ones at the table, and my stomach urged me to fill up my plate quickly. I was starting to get my appetite back, and I’d never welcomed it more in my life. Being in the position to gain weight was a privilege, something I’d never understood before. Going forward, I hoped I'd never forget that lesson.
On the table, there were wonderful-smelling pillows of fried dough, bowls of clotted cream, mouth-watering thin slices of dried venison, juicy venison sausages, cubes of salted, bright yellow butter, fragrant, red strawberry jam with whole strawberries suspended in the glistening pectin and sugar mixture, and a mysterious spread that smelled of grilled red peppers, garlic, and aubergines.
The only thing that I slightly disliked was the fresh fruit that had to have been flown in, considering it was January in Colorado. I’d always insisted on using seasonal produce in our pack’s kitchen as well as in my own home. It ensured that the body was being fed in accordance with the seasons. It brought us, as shifters, closer to nature. Freezing, canning, and making preserves allowed us to enjoy our bountiful harvests year-round; there was no need to fly in fruit from warmer climates just because we could.
David must have noticed me frowning as I chewed on the dried venison because he immediately asked, “Is the food not to your liking?”
“Oh no, quite the opposite, I am very impressed with your chef. All of this is so delicious.”
“But?” he asked, smiling as if he was looking forward to me complaining about something.
“Well,” I sighed, “I’m a proponent of seasonal and local eating – you harvest and consume what is available in your region in the season you’re in. When we harvest vegetables and fruits when they are at their peak, the ripeness and flavors are beyond compare. We have both traditional and modern methods at our disposal to preserve such foods to be enjoyed year-round, so why pollute the environment and, in a way, our bodies by using a plane to bring us food from God-knows-where, just so we could enjoy a mango for breakfast in January?” I concluded.
He observed me thoughtfully for a moment.
“I’d never thought about it that way. You make some excellent points.”
I knew – I don’t know how, but I did – that he was not just saying that to humor me. He'd genuinely thought about what I’d said, and he found merit in it. I’d missed the feeling of being seen, heard, acknowledged, and valued. It was dizzying, in a good way.
“Do you think about food a lot?”
I finished chewing the bite of sausage before responding.
“Oh my God, this is so good,” my eyes almost rolled back, and he seemed oddly pleased. “To answer your question – I used to. Not only was I in charge of the kitchen menu and ordering all the supplies for it, but I was a hobby chef as well. I’d always said that in another life I would have been a real chef. I even checked out the castle kitchen one day with Laura and Kelly, I couldn’t resist,” I sheepishly admitted and his eyes lit up.
“Well, there you have it! Why don’t you do that? Be a chef!”
“Oh, come on, like it’s that easy,” I brushed his enthusiasm off, even as I felt its tiny tentacles drawing me in as well.
“It is! Join the kitchen staff and see how you like working in a kitchen that size. Later, if you want, you can also sort of intern at a restaurant my family owns here in town. Why not go for it?”
“All of that sounds so... good?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?” he grinned, and I grinned back.
“I’m not even sure,” I covered my face with my hands.
“Would you feel better if you weren’t just handed the opportunity?” he asked, and I wondered how the hell he had guessed what was behind my hesitation. Maybe he would have felt the same.
“Honestly, yes! Can I work for the chance somehow? Please let me make my own life more difficult for myself,” I laughed, feeling no shame at acknowledging my backward logic because he was being so cool about it.
He pressed his lips together, frowned, and tilted his head back, looking at the ceiling, deep in thought.
“I know! Cook dinner for me and my closest friends next week. As a job interview of sorts. What do you say?”
“That sounds perfect. Do you have any type of cuisine in mind, any dietary restrictions, any preferences?” my mind was already making a grocery list before we’d even agreed on the day of the dinner.
“Nothing of the sort; you have complete creative control since we’re all very chill omnivores,” he winked, and I smiled widely and giddily.
His smile fell and he just kind of stared at my mouth in a way that made me feel self-conscious.
“Well,” I fidgeted with my teacup to avoid his eyes and where they were looking, “thank you, David. I am excited and grateful. And scared,” I admitted.
He took a drink from his own teacup, and simply said: “You’re welcome, Gina.”
I liked that. It was new, more grown-up than Ginny.
When we were both done eating, David suggested we take our coffee on the terrace. Unfortunately, as soon as we got there, I was assaulted by the extreme cold. Everyone, including myself, kept forgetting that without my wolf, I was no longer running as hot as my fellow shifters were. I was basically human in that sense, and I was freezing. David quickly noticed and immediately realized our shared mistake:
“Shit, you’re cold! I keep forgetting, let’s go back inside,” he was already dragging me by the elbow.
“No, it’s so nice out here; I want to enjoy the fresh air. Please, just get me a blanket or a jacket or something, and I’ll be fine; go, run!” I playfully shoved him and he did, indeed, run.
He came back in less than a minute, carrying a huge deer hide, which he promptly wrapped me in before depositing me on the plush armchair. The terrace had a breathtaking view of the clear blue skies and the white mountain peaks, and again I was painfully aware of how this was something to be cherished, never to be taken for granted again. How ironic that the darkness of the dungeon had shown me the light, I chuckled to myself.
“Feel like sharing?” David asked while handing me my cappuccino in a dainty cup.
“I’m just enjoying the view and thinking about how it should be cherished.”
“I agree,” he said, looking at me with that intent stare again.
If I had my wolf, I’d surely be looking away by now. Instead, I looked my fill – the messy brown curls, the kind, intelligent eyes, the full lips that looked as soft as rose petals, the wide, strong neck, the broad shoulders pushing the fabric of his dark green button-up shirt to its limits...
“Well, I can safely say I’d never used a deer hide like this,” I jolted us both from the reverie we were in.
“Can you believe that the same deer that served you at breakfast is serving you now?” he chuckled.
“Oh, come on, how can you know it’s the same one?” I shot back jokingly, but he looked shy all of a sudden.
“Well,” he took a breath, “I hunted it last week, and I asked the cook to serve it today. That is also how I found the hide so quickly, I knew where I’d put it.”
“Oh,” I furrowed my brow as a slippery thought tickled the back of my mind, but skillfully evaded capture, like an eel or a fish.
“Let me finally address the reason I wanted to talk to you this morning,” David said abruptly and straightened in his seat.
I found myself unconsciously mirroring his movement.
“Yesterday was the last time you were given wolfsbane, and it will completely leave your body in a matter of days. But I need to tell you something first so that you are not blindsided when it does.”
“Oh my God,” my chest immediately felt tight. “Is it my wolf? Is she damaged? Oh my God,” he took my hands in his and that promptly shut me up.
“No, Regina. It’s not your wolf, she’s fine, I can already feel her a tiny bit.”
“You can? Oh God, that’s good to hear. I need to shut up now. Just tell me. Please,” I closed my eyes but he remained silent until I opened them again.
He was looking at the mountain peaks now.
“You’re my mate, Regina,” he said quietly.
For a moment, I had trouble connecting his words to their meaning. I knew all of them individually:
“you” the second-person pronoun
“are” the verb to be, conjugated in second person singular
“my” word denoting possession, belonging to the speaker
“mate” a noun denoting the most important individual in a wolf’s life
“Regina” my name
But for the life of me, I couldn’t decipher what he was trying to tell me by combining these particular words to form that particular sentence. It couldn’t be what it sounded like. Yet he kept looking at me with that warm expression, my smaller hands still enveloped by his large ones, and now he was drawing little circles on my skin with his thumbs. He said I was his mate. David said I was his mate.
“David,” I said, but it came out like a croak. I cleared my throat. “Did you have a mate before?”
He just shook his head, eerily still, like I was the deer he hunted last week and he didn’t want to spook me.
“I’m sorry -,” I started, but stopped when his hold on my hands tightened.
“What are you sorry for?” he seemed genuinely confused.
It was alright, I knew I had a lot to be sorry for, he probably wanted me to clarify. I looked away from him, ashamed.
“I understand why you didn’t tell me before. Who would want a probably barren mate killer for a mate? And I’m not even your second chance mate, I’m your first mate, I’m so sorry,” I said, my sadness leaking through my vocal cords.
He inhaled and then exhaled audibly and exaggeratedly before giving me a beautiful, heartwarming smile.
“Regina, I was completely and utterly in love with you from the moment I laid my eyes on you – a warrior she-wolf in a bloodstained dress who had cunningly killed her captor, an enemy who had the absolute advantage over her, both physically and hierarchically. I was so proud of you in that moment. I probably would have gotten aroused at the sight if I hadn’t been so worried that some of the blood on you was yours. My wolf was going insane,” he shook his head, shuddering like he was reliving the whole thing.
My heart was stuck on the words love and proud . Not to mention aroused .
“You were put in an inescapable situation, and you saved yourself, Gina. Are you aware of that? As soon as I was sure you were alright, I wanted to take your hand and tell everyone, “Look at my strong, beautiful, savage mate who decapitated an Alpha with a bread knife.” I couldn’t be more honored to have you as my mate,” he said in a serious tone and then leaned over and kissed a tear that had escaped my eye during his speech.
“But – you - ,” I stuttered, not even sure what I was trying to say.
“It’s okay,” he cooed, rubbing my upper arms again, and I found myself leaning into his comforting touch as I had every time before. Did he feel tingles when he touched me? How could he even tell I was his mate?
“How could you even tell I was your mate?”
“Your smell was faint, but my wolf picked up on it immediately – clementines,” he inhaled deeply, “and it’s already getting stronger. I feel faint tingles when I touch you, but I can’t wait for those to turn into fireworks when your wolf comes back,” he grinned.
I remained silent, I was too confused.
“I know it’s a lot, Regina, that’s why I haven’t told you before. Not for the reasons you think. I didn’t want to tell you while you were drugged and traumatized and on trial. I wanted you to have the time and space to process this without stress,” he used his thumb to wipe away more tears since they were now flowing freely.
“Dylan immediately advised me against telling you, claiming you needed more time, but I didn’t believe him. Then I went to get you some clothes for the hospital, and when I came back, I heard you crying in the shower,” he closed his eyes and looked pained.
“I wanted nothing more than to break down that door and comfort you, but after realizing how heartbreakingly devastated you were by everything that had happened, I realized that Dylan was right, you did need time. And you’ll probably need even more now that I’ve told you.”
I just nodded. That much even I knew was true.
“I know, love. You have a lot to process and many losses to grieve. I didn’t tell you this now because I wanted to pressure you, I told you this so that you could be prepared when your wolf comes back. I didn’t want to tell you before because the timing wasn’t right, but that was the only reason for my silence. None of what you said in your outrageous apology is true for me, okay? I will give you as much time and space as you want, I just want to tell you a few things, okay? Ready?” he jokingly shook his body like boxers did before matches, and despite my snot-filled nose and teary eyes, I smiled.
“Ready,” I nodded.
“You are a mate worthy of a general and a King. I hope you’ll realize that about yourself and, with time, see yourself the way I see you. We'll talk about this more as the bond materializes for you, but have no doubt in your heart: I consider our bond sacred, and I am grateful for it. I believe there is a good reason for every pairing, and I accept ours gladly and wholeheartedly. I don’t care that I’m your second mate, as long as I get to be your last one,” and with that electric jolt to my heart, he kissed my hand and stood up.
“Same time tomorrow?”
I simply nodded, and he left, whistling.