19 - The Letters
April 20, 2021
D?e?a?r?
M?a?t?e?,
Penelope,
My head is still reeling from everything that happened today. Being blessed with a second chance mate is a rare gift, one that I know I should be happy about.
Were you even aware how strongly your claws had gripped my shirt? I can’t get the image of you out of my mind – your huge, dark eyes, your thick, long hair... I? w?o?n?d?e?r?
When your father shook you, I almost killed him. Why didn’t you tell him we were mates? Why were you just staring at me even as he was yelling at you?
Never mind all that.
A simple truth about me is that, ever since I was a young pup, my life has been marked by so much loss that my heart is now a barren field. You look like the kind of female who’d try to plant something in it, and your disappointment will be hard to bear, but it’s better for both of us to make peace with it now.
As I was anxiously pacing my room earlier this evening, my wolf (who was still drunk on your smell) was urging me to go to you, to touch you, to do something about our mate, so I sat down to write this.
I don’t know if I’ll ever let you read this. It’s the mating custom of my pack to write your mate letters from the age of 15 all the way up to meeting them. As you can guess, my letters have already been given to another female. Another thing you’ll be deprived of through no fault of your own, simply due to being mated with me.
What I said to you in the garden, it didn’t come out right. What I meant to say was, SORRY . You don’t deserve this. Any of this. I’m so sorry. You seem so young and so quiet and so nice.
Although, looks can be deceiving. I don’t know what to make of you. You just look at me with those eyes, and I – and it’s even worse when you don’t look at me.
Even as I am writing this, I know that it’s unfair to you to be mated to me. As much as I know you'll eventually come to consider me cold and cruel, I cannot find it in me to be too kind or too close to you right now. I still cannot believe this. Why would you be paired with me?
Let’s get through whatever this dreary pack will have haphazardly put together by tomorrow. Though I must confess, anything will be better than an elaborate show put on solely to impress others or something that takes weeks of planning during which all the female does is make her mate feel inadequate and unimportant. When I mark you, I will know for sure what kind of she-wolf you are.
◆◆◆
May 2021
Penelope,
I’m in Kansas, and I can’t sleep. Nothing new for me. Ever since that first night we spent in bed together, I stay awake for most of the night.
It started out as part shock, part hunger. I couldn’t sleep after marking you, so I held you and sniffed you and let myself feel all kinds of tender things for you. I know who you are now. It’s a wondrous thing to have a front-row seat to how Penelope Hedge feels life.
Would she still see me the same if she knew the depths of my weakness and inadequacy? Who could love a weak, broken male?
I was sorry to feel your discomfort when you entered the house I used to share with another. But you don’t understand that I forced myself to stay in it, even after smashing the bedroom to bits and replacing every item in there. I forced myself to stay and to unravel what had happened and where I had gone wrong.
I’m such a mess. I wanted so badly to tell you at that awful dinner with my mother that I was writing these letters for you, but I couldn’t. Not when they will most likely be full of pain and mistrust, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to give them to you.
Even as I feel guilty for hiding myself from you, I continue to do it. What if you see something that drives you away? Something abhorrent or impossible to love? I have no other explanation for what happened to me or why I keep getting hit.
When you talked about the trousseau you’d made, I was floored by the number of hours and the amount of effort you’d put into it and how you must have thought about your future mate the whole time. Although you’re not disappointed with me now, you eventually will be, I’m sure of it.
When I lost myself in you t?h?e? f?i?r?s?t? t?i?m?e? w?e? when we slept together for the first time, I was worried you’d think less of me as a male. Maybe you’d consider me a subpar lover, Lord knows I have my doubts in that area.
But you were so sated and satisfied, so happy and hungry for me. Being in you and with you was a revelation – a combination of physical and emotional sensations that were mindblowing, and every time is better than the last. And feeling you feel the same? Feeling you want and desire me, feeling you crave me like you do?
I can barely get any work done. I fantasize about re-marking you constantly, reinforcing my ownership of you, strengthening the bond that holds you to me, and making it so that you never have a thought in your head that doesn’t include me.
And your thoughts about me keep driving me insane. I spend half the time at work in my bathroom, touching myself. I stay at work for as long as I can because I keep telling myself you’re inexperienced and young and you need time to recover between nights, otherwise I’d be p?o?u?n?d?i?n?g? making you sore until you started hating my nearness. Or maybe you wouldn’t.
I don’t know what to think anymore. I miss being near you.
◆◆◆
May 2021
Dear Penelope,
I came to see you off, you know. For your first-ever class trip. You were so adorably nervous that morning, I couldn’t get it out of my head. I battled myself over whether to come or not. I didn’t want my presence to cause your friends to think of you as their Luna, I figured maybe that would put a wall between you and them. But in the end, my wolf won, and we got to campus just in time to see you eyeing Rowan-fucking-Howard.
I’ve known Rowan for years. I recently even worked closely with him and his father on finding new packs for refugee wolves from Palestine. He’s a great male – but in that moment I wanted to peel his skin off and eat his eyeballs just because you briefly mentally acknowledged he was visually pleasing.
But I didn’t, because I think what gutted me most was the guilt you immediately felt over such a simple thing as noticing that someone was handsome. The memories and implications that came with it just launched an avalanche of self-doubt and self-loathing and anger so huge that it threatened to bury all the progress I’d made in the last almost two years.
Forgive me, but I had to leave immediately. I mind-linked Elliot to join me and just started driving. At some point, I decided our destination would be Colorado. Why not go back to where it all started? Interview some more wolves, go through some more hotel receipts and guest lists in the hopes of finding something that would finally fix things.
I tried getting the CCTV footage from the Royal Palace from my friend David, but he told me I was insane. He said I was living in the past, and to let things go. But he doesn’t understand. No one does.
Lately, I’ve been thinking that I’m deluding myself. Nothing I could find would make things better. Solving the puzzle would probably not be satisfying, but it’s become a compulsion at this point. I can’t stop.
And when I felt your panic when you came home, fuck, my heart nearly stopped. My first thought was, this is it, she’s dying, she’s being attacked and I’m not there with her. When I realized you panicked because I wasn’t at home and you had no idea I’d left, I felt even worse. I’ve made a mess of things, Penelope. Shit. I’m sorry. I just ruin everything.
◆◆◆
August 2021
My dear mate,
You want my pups.
You said you wanted my pups.
It should be a simple, normal thing between mates. But you have no idea what those words mean to me. S?h?i?t?. Of course you have no idea.
Like you said, we never talk about anything. Hearing that from you, and feeling how much that hurts you... I’m sorry.
I almost bared my soul to you right then and there. I tried telling you with my body what I couldn’t with my words.
I’ll try being more open. At least here. The letters feel safe. Without your eyes flaying my defenses, I can be brave.
You probably heard a little bit about Cassie’s death. What no one knows is that the humans did an autopsy on her after her car accident. The report said she had a mixture of Queen Anne’s lace, thistle, blue cohosh, and parsley in her stomach. She had a bottle of the tincture in her purse as well. After I’d spoken to Matthews, the Royal pack doctor, I figured out what she was doing with it.
Her heat was coming up, Penelope. The good Doctor explained to me that all of those plants are either contraceptives or abortifacients. She was trying to prevent pregnancy. She didn’t want my pup. What had I done to make her dread the idea of creating new life with me? Was I that awful of a mate to her?
I wasn’t upset that her heats were unsuccessful. I didn’t crave fatherhood like my wolf did. I would have liked to have a pup, but I would have been okay without one, too. I’d like to think I would have understood if she had told me she wanted to wait. But the knowledge that she was actively taking measures behind my back to prevent it was a stab in the heart.
How come I didn’t see any of that while we were together? She'd hidden her thoughts really well. She didn’t do what I’m doing – putting up a wall and letting nothing through. No. She spoon-fed me what she wanted me to see, and hid so much of her without me ever realizing.
She didn’t hide her contempt for the “boring” life I led in our “boring” pack, though. Or that she preferred drinking and partying to spending time at home. And I tried indulging her, I really did. I went out and stayed late with her, but in the end it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.
You know what Heather said to me one day? She said that you were nothing like Cassie, and she was right. Thank God you’re not. But if I wasn’t even good enough for her, I can’t ever imagine being good enough for someone like you. Someone so good and kind and pure and perfect.
I feel so sorry for Heather sometimes. She’s known such loss so young. And she’s not really moving on the way she should.
I always feel like the biggest hypocrite when I open my mouth to criticize her or urge her to do something that I myself have no energy to do. I also feel incredibly guilty – she was a good friend to Cassandra. She was basically strong-armed into moving here with her, into cleaning up her messes, driving her home after her parties, and not once has she complained.
What has that friendship gotten her in the end? A lame leg, that’s what. And I feel guilty and responsible, both as her Alpha, and as her cousin’s mate. Just more negative feelings for me to dwell on.
I don’t know if I’m writing this down for you or for myself, or to see how ridiculous it sounds. I’m going back and forth on things. I randomly decide on at least one afternoon every week, while sitting in my office, that I won’t do this anymore, that I'll walk into our shared home and just tell you everything.
But then I enter and you look at me with those eyes and I just know that your death or betrayal would be the one to finally kill me dead. And then I yell at you for walking around in my shirt or some other stupid shit like that just so we could both hurt.
It’s like self-harming, but I’m harming you as well. And you’re innocent. But I can’t, I’m not stronger than my sense of self-preservation. And in the end you won’t want me either, so it’s better to hurt now.
◆◆◆
November 2021
Sweet, peach-tasting Penelope,
I hate this.
I can no longer feel your excitement and joy when you’re preparing things for your sleepovers with your friends.
When I make love to you, I no longer get to experience the wonder and marvel you feel when our bodies come together, or your pleasant surprise at how some parts of you feel when kissed or nibbled or licked.
I no longer get to know how happy a simple cup of tea can make you. Whenever I traveled, I used to spend my afternoons going to different stores, picking out the perfect blend for you. I’d leave it in the kitchen, and savor the wait until you’d find it and taste it. I never told you I was the one buying it because I enjoyed knowing that this was how you felt about something as ordinary as tea every morning.
You’d pick a different kind every day, and you’d putter around the kitchen while waiting for the kettle to boil. Then you’d take a sip and you’d hum happily, and you’d close your eyes for a moment. And I used to be able to feel how content you were. F?u?c?k?.
H?a?v?e? I? e?v?e?r? Of course, you don’t know I noticed any of that. You had no idea how healing it’s been to feel pure, honest joy from my mate, after having bought loads of clothes and shoes and accessories for someone who’d never be truly satisfied. I hate even bringing her up. I hope I’m not further hurting you by doing it.
There’s this wound inside me that your existence has been healing, and now that I can’t feel those tender, soft, shyly affectionate (and let’s be honest, often downright filthy!) thoughts of yours, it’s like I’m missing a limb. Or one of my senses. Like I woke up and could no longer smell a thing.
I’m not mad, though. It’s what I deserve. I have no one but myself to blame. Oddly enough, I’m proud of you for taking that step to protect yourself. If anyone understands you in that regard, it’s me.
But what I am absolutely positively FURIOUS about is that you went and cut your hair. The one thing I know I’ve been honest and open about is loving your hair. It’s like a black-locust-scented soft shiny magical sea that I want to lose myself in. I know it will grow back. Despite that knowledge, we are both hurt you did it. My wolf was devastated. He knows you did it to hurt us and he hates me for it.
I think I need to change.
You blocking me from your feelings, cutting your hair – it was necessary, if I’m being honest. Our relationship has gotten to the point where I knew you wouldn’t believe my explanation as to why our photo was hidden in a drawer.
There’s no way you’d believe I was keeping it there because it was distracting, because otherwise I’d spend the day staring at you. And that shit hurts. It hurts to know that this is what I’ve done to our relationship with the way I’ve been acting.
So I think I’ll start with your birthday. I’ll make an effort and we’ll celebrate it together. I’ll show you more of myself. We can do this, Penelope, I’m sure.
◆◆◆
New Year’s Eve
My dearest mate,
you’re currently sleeping off the last hours of your heat, and I’m just sitting on the bed, watching you sleep. Your face is beautiful when animated, especially when you laugh, but there is just something about it when you are asleep – you look so relaxed, so soft, so unguarded.
These days you are almost back to your old, open self. I feel like I’m making headway.
I am in awe of how well you know me even though I spent most of the year hiding myself from you. The mechanical puzzle that you gave me for Christmas was one of the best gifts I’d ever received.
But that’s just who you are. You listen to others, and you see them. I love that about you. I love that you choose to spend your time and money on helping your friends survive exam week. I love that you are thoughtful enough to anticipate what they might need and do your best to provide it.
You are an amazing friend and an amazing Luna.
And I want to tell you that I love you. I really do . Not just as my mate, the she-wolf I’m magically tied to. But also as Penelope, the interesting, intelligent female. Penelope, the good, loyal friend.
Penelope who loves fiercely, and inspires such love in everyone who meets her. You do know my mother and her friends and all of our packmates won’t shut up about how amazing you are? And I don’t want them to, because they’re right. You’re the best. And I love you. A lot.
Here's to a New Year and a new beginning.
◆◆◆
January 2022
Sitting through that fucking trial was the worst thing to happen to me since I realized the deal with Cassie’s death.
I might as well just come out and say it – you won’t be too scandalized, not after all the testimonies we heard.
When I passed out at the Alpha Summit, everyone (including me) assumed it was due to my mate dying. Case closed.
For months after that, my wolf was filled with bile and rage and bitterness, and hated the mention of Cassandra. I didn’t understand it. He kept urging me to think about that night, and in the process I started going over some of the incident reports, and finally, I stumbled upon the fact that I passed out at 9 pm and the accident occurred at 11 pm.
From there, I investigated some more and the only conclusion that made sense was that Cassandra had cheated on me that night. The wolfsbane in her system confirmed it, although everyone thought she used it to get drunk. Not that one excludes the other.
Anyway, I spent the better part of the last two years getting to the bottom of that mystery. Who did she do it with? Where? Why? I didn’t think she’d do it with a human, nor would she seduce a random lower-ranked wolf, she was too arrogant and conceited for that. It had to have been another Alpha who was there for the Summit. I never found out which one.
What I did do is destroy our bedroom with my bare hands, and manage to make it all my fault somehow. Had I driven her to the drinking? To the cheating? Was I that awful or unlovable? Would I lose everything and everyone in my life?
Slowly I'd started to heal, mostly thanks to you. But this trial... I’m not gonna lie, it messed me up.
Did you see what love does to wolves? Did you see what mates do to each other?
It took all the strength I had not to hyperventilate and fall on my knees as Luna Regina’s pain was being talked about. It was like being at that dinner all over again. And to have all the Alphas sitting around me, knowing one of them could be the one who participated in defiling my mating? It was horrible.
I thought I’d be able to put it behind me once we got home, but then the nightmares started. They were mostly of me feeling the pain, but in the dream I’d immediately know what it was. Sometimes it would be Cassie cheating on me, but lately, it was always you. I was too scared to fall asleep some nights.
Before we left Court, David asked me to go to Spruce Mountain with him for a few months, help sort out the filth there. And I said yes. I think I need the distance, and I need to clear my head. I’m really not well. I don’t know why I can’t talk to you about this.
I think I’m delaying the inevitable – the pity on your face, the realization what kind of undesirable male you’re mated to. I just want to hold off on that a bit longer. I want to hide, that’s why I’m leaving. I still need to tell you somehow and you’ll hate me for it. But at least you won’t pity me.
◆◆◆
February 2022
Dear Penelope,
I’m the dumbest male alive.
Could someone please explain to me what I’m doing in this disgusting pack? It is as ugly on the outside as it is on the inside. Two weeks into being here, the shock of the trial wore off and I realized what an idiot I’d been. But I’ve given my word and I’ll see this through with David.
My wolf won’t even acknowledge me. He goes for a run or a hunt once in a while, but other that that I’m on his shit list.
Food has no taste. When the work day is done, there is no point in going back to my room because you’re not there. David and I mostly sit around together like the sad sacks we are.
Did you know that Luna Regina is his mate? I now know more about that female than I could ever want to thanks to him, he’s killing me with his whining. But I’m secretly glad that I’m not the only one who’s absolutely miserable.
It’s the anniversary of Cassandra’s death today and I’ve realized that I no longer care about figuring it out. Instead, all I feel is remorse when I think about what I have lost and ruined with my obsession.
Did you know I think of you whenever I see a dandelion? They're everywhere, so I think about you a lot. Some pup gave you a bunch of them on our mating day and you smiled at him real big - it was the first genuine smile you had that day. F?u?
How sad is that? Another male giving you flowers was the thing to make you smile. What the hell was I doing? Being in my head, that’s what. I should have made you my priority.
As much as I resent this pack for their neglect, it’s heartbreaking and unnatural to participate in its destruction. I wish I could bury my nose in your hair at night and take comfort in your closeness, or ask your advice on things.
I hate how we left things. I hate how I left. I hate that I left at all.
I wonder whether you miss me. I wonder what you bake for your sleepovers. I wonder whether you think of me as much as I think of you.
◆◆◆
March 2022
My lovely mate,
I saw a female pup today, maybe 6 years old, and she reminded me of you. She had huge, chocolate-colored eyes. I briefly wondered if that’s what our daughter would look like.
I liked the idea so much it should have frightened me. Instead, I felt excited and hopeful.
I want to talk to you more than anything. I tried mindlinking you several times, but the distance between us is far too great.
In more ways than one, I guess.
I want to hear your voice, I want to hear what you think about the world around us, about the books you read, about what your grandmother or your cousin said in their last letter. I want you to tell me everything you feel, not share it with me through the bond because it’s natural, but to actually choose to and want to give me a glimpse into your thoughts.
I think you could make even this God-forsaken pack bearable. I bet you’d find something to be excited about or grateful for. Maybe not baker George’s pastries, but something. I’m really struggling.
I’m hungry for everything that you are. I miss you so much it hurts. I’m gonna make things right between us, I promise. I can’t even write any more. I’m just counting down the days until I can come home to you. I love you.