Page 84 of Her Second-Hand 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 hercar 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 everimagine 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 positivelyFURIOUSabout 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.

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