The Millennium Wolves Series by Sapir Englard Chapter 43

The Millennium Wolves Series Book Three Chapter: 13

SIENNA 

No matter how I wrapped myself in the sheets, they clung to me like a hundred unwanted hands.

But when I threw them off, I felt naked and cold.

I’d come straight home after leaving Jocelyn’s, hoping to find comfort in my bed. But all I’d done the past few hours was toss and turn.

I couldn’t shake the worry that some part of my biological makeup might have predetermined my failure as a mother

Suddenly, I heard Aiden’s car pull up in the driveway.

I hadn’t expected him home till later. I didn’t want him to see me reacting this way.

And I was worried I wouldn’t be able to communicate properly why I was feeling this uneasiness.

As soon as he opened the door, he called out my name

“I’m upstairs,” I shouted, trying to compose myself before he saw me.

When he entered the room I looked over at him and was taken by how statuesque and handsome he appeared.

His crisp collared shirt clung to his chest and stretched around his arms, tapering neatly to his trim waist. His wild black locks rested perfectly atop his head, begging me to run my fingers through them.

And his face, that once-in-a-lifetime face that was all I wanted to see when I woke up and before I went to bed… And here I was looking like a mess. clutching the bedsheets like a child.

You’re home early.” I said, hoping to put the focus back on him.

“You weren’t answering your phone. Jocelyn said you might be here.”

“I needed some alone time. I’m sorry if I made you worry.”

Aiden walked over to the bed and lay down next to me, his powerful hand coming to rest on my hip. Tell me what’s wrong, Sienna.

This was the moment. I had to be honest with him.

“I missed my period.”

His face went blank for a moment before processing the implications. “Wait, are you saying that—”

“I thought I was. I went to Jocelyn. She didn’t see anything. She said it’s the haze messing with my cycle.”

**Are you sure? I mean maybe it was too small for her to see.”

“I’m sure. Aiden.”

The light in his face faded, and he looked down at my pillow.

Noticing the tearstains there, he said, It’s okay. You don’t have to be upset. We can try again.”

“That’s not why I’m crying, Aiden. What if this is my fault? What if I’m not meant to be a mother? You’ve already given up so much for me, I don’t want you to have to sacrifice kids as well.”

“Sure. I’d love to have kids with you one day. But you’re the most important thing to me. Plus, I think you’re forgetting we’re mates. Sienna. You’re stuck with me for life.”

“I know. That’s why I’m so freaked out, Aiden. What if there’s something about my birth family that means I can’t have kids?”

“It wouldn’t matter, Sienna.” he replied, sitting up. “You’re my main priority. I thought I made that clear.”

He had, and I knew it was silly of me to think otherwise.

“I know you’re nervous about having children, but you won’t be alone, Sienna. I’m here: your family is here.

“If we’re being honest, I’m scared too, but I know what a wonderful mother you’ll be and that, together, we can figure it all out.”

How could he be so sure? There was no way to know. Was he just telling me what I wanted to hear to calm me down?

I think he could see the doubt that was lingering in my expression, because he reached out to stroke my arm.

“Sienna, you don’t know what led to your parents leaving you. You don’t even know if it was their decision,

He had a point. I had kind of jumped to the worst-case scenario. I just hated feeling like I was letting Aiden down

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” I replied.

Aiden lay down again and nestled beside me.

– You don’t think I’m like my parents, do you?” he asked.

“God no!” I replied, almost laughing at how ridiculous he sounded.

Sure, he had the same stern brow as his father and the same dominant vibe as his mother… but Aiden was nothing like his parents.

“So you see,” he said, sounding smug, “it doesn’t matter who your birth parents are or why they left you. You’re not them, and you’re going to be an amazing mother, whenever that happens.”

I rolled over and kissed his cheek.

“Interested in trying for that right now?” he said, raising an eyebrow

I smacked him jokingly. He always had to ruin a nice moment by bringing his filthy mind out to play.

We were having a nice moment!” I said, rolling onto my back.

For a while we just lay there with our arms pressing against each other.

I knew he was right. Whoever my birth parents were, it didn’t define who I was, or what type of mother I was going to be.

But I still felt that vacant space in my heart.

I still wanted to know who they were.

By this time of year, the trees in the park had lost their leaves. All that remained were clumps of spindly skeletons huddling together for warmth.

As I sat painting in the park. I too felt stripped. Selene had always told me that relationships required hard work, but I’d thought she was being dramatic.

She and Jeremy were constantly happy, and now, with the baby on the way, they would have the family they’d always wanted.

They’d waited, though. She and Jeremy had been married for three years before she got pregnant. Maybe that was all I needed to calm my fears: some room to breathe.

I got lost in the brushstrokes of my watercolor. It was calming watching the pigments blend and dry.

I could choose which colors I wanted and the limits of where they spread, but there was always a degree of unpredictability in how they mixed.

I would never fully be in control.

But the painting was still beautiful.

Maybe I needed to be more like my watercolors.

I could still dictate the bigger things, but I had to accept that there would always be a part of my life that I couldn’t control, a blending of possibilities.

The painting in front of me proved that this wasn’t always bad, that it could lead to beautiful results.

“Wow, your work is exquisite,” a voice said from behind me.

I spun around, expecting to see one of the many retirees that visited the park during the week, but instead there stood a handsome, well-dressed man.

His immaculate white-blond hair was slicked back, and his piercing gray eyes almost put me into a trance.

He couldn’t have been much older than Aiden, but there was a quality about him that made me feel like he had already lived a lifetime.

“Pardon my intrusion,” he said, flashing a dashing grin. “I was passing by, and something about your painting struck me. Are you a professional?”

This wasn’t the first stranger to offer me compliments, but somehow his remarks felt like deliberate flattery

“I am,” I replied. “I mean I sell some pieces from time to time.”

“Really? Where can I see more of your work?”

“I have a gallery you can stop by.”

“I would like that,” he answered warmly. “Will this one be for sale?”

“This?” I said, blushing. This is nothing. It’s not that good.”

“I think it’s incredible,” he remarked. “My name is Konstantin, by the way.”

“Sienna,” I replied.

“Sienna, what a lovely name,” he said, extending his gloved hand.

I reached out and shook it.

“I’ve just moved to the city and have an apartment with lots of empty walls. I would love to arrange a viewing at your gallery sometime.

“Here is my card,” he said, reaching into his coat pocket and producing a sleek white piece of card stock with embossed lettering. You’ll find my number there at the bottom.”

“Yes, of course,” I replied, not sure what to make of his intense interest in my work.

“Good. I look forward to seeing the rest of your art, if this piece is any indication.”

He gave me a smile and walked off down the path.

There was a foreignness about him that I couldn’t place, and it made me want to know more.

He carried himself in such a refined way, but there was also a distinct hint of mystery to him.

I looked down at the card he’d handed me and was surprised by what was printed there:

Konstantin, Doctor of Psychology: Therapist 

Specialization in mind–linking and memory mapping 

He carried himself in such a refined way, but there was also a distinct hint of mystery to him.

I looked down at the card he’d handed me and was surprised by what was printed there:

Konstantin, Doctor of Psychology, Therapist 

Specialization in mind–linking and memory mapping 

It certainly sounded impressive.

I traced the edge of his card with my index finger, debating what I was going to do. It was exciting to have a potential client who was interested in my work.

But there was something strange about him that I couldn’t quite put my finger on…

Something tells me I‘ll be seeing Konstantin again very soon.