Alpha Dom and His Human Surrogate - Season 5 Episode 25

Cora

After I dress, I surprise myself by feeling a little shy as I reach for the door to the bathroom to go back to the tiny bedroom where Roger’s waiting or me.

Because, I mean, it’s no secret why we’re here. And Roger’s not stupid – he probably figured out what I was doing when I went into the bathroom with a big white box.

But still – it’s always something, isn’t it? Anticipating what it might be like when the man you love sees you in your wedding dress for the first time. And as I think it, quite suddenly, I can’t wait.

I pull the bathroom door open and step back into the bedroom, my eyes instantly going to Roger, standing by the open doors to the beach, the ocean air lifting his hair lightly in the breeze.

And, as I knew they would be, his eyes are already on me. Because he was waiting. And my face bursts into a grin as his expression goes slack.

I feel it all down the bond, which is open to me right now. His awe, and his pride – his love, his desire, the overwhelming swell of pleasure that comes from seeing how beautiful he thinks I look right now on this night – in this dress

“Cora,” he says, the sound of my name rough as it works its way from his tight throat. But it’s the only word he can manage, lifting a hand to cover his mouth and shaking his head at me, just staring.

I turn a little so that I’m facing him completely, still smiling so hard my face might start aching if I keep this up for much longer.

“So, you like it?” I ask, twisting a little so that he can see more of the dress, see how the beadwork catches the light of the fire and makes the dress look incandescent in the glowing dark of this little bedroom.

He just stares at me for a moment before a little growl rumbles in his chest, his only answer. And I burst out laughing and cross the room to him, holding my hands out.

Roger takes my hands as I come around the bed, using them to pull me closer so that he can slide his hands over my body, feeling the intricacies of the dress for himself, as well as the contrast it presents to the bare skin of my back, my arms. He lowers his face to mine, kissing me softly as he traces his fingertips down the length of my spine, sending shivers all through me.

Then, slowly, he pulls away and takes a step back. “I don’t know what I want I can’t pick – do I want you close, so I can keep my hands on you? Or far away, so I can see again how beautiful you look? God, Cora – this dress was made for you – ”

I wrinkle my nose and smile up at him, terribly pleased. “I’m glad you like it,” I murmur, wrapping my arms around his waist. “I liked it too. Ella made me try on like, a thousand. But this was the one I liked best.”

“Well, it’s perfect,” he sighs. “It’s just a shame that I’m going to have to rip it to shreds when I tear if off your body in like, thirty seconds…”

I gasp and pull away, my hands defensively clutching the dress at my chest. “Roger! Don’t you dare!”

“I don’t know, Cora,” he murmurs, shaking his head at me and closing the distance between us again, hungry. “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to help it. How did you even get this thing on, anyway? I’m never going to have the patience for like, a thousand tiny pearl buttons – ”

“There is one zipper,” I say, swatting at him. “And you will respect the dress! It is precious to me! I -”

And then I hesitate, blushing, because I myself now am on the verge of saying something very sentimental.

“What,” Roger says, his mouth quirking up as he senses it. “Tell me.”

“No,” I say, laughing and looking down, shaking my head.

“Cora,” he says, a warning and a command in his voice. And, while those don’t usually do anything for me I have no real intention of letting Roger be the boss of our lives, like Ella and Sinclair – his gentle fingers under my chin, turning my face up to him, persuade more completely. “Please. I want to know.”

“Well,” I say, quiet, staring up at my gorgeous mate, “I never had a mom with a wedding dress to hand down to me. And if we ever have a daughter…”

A tiny, strangled little groan escapes his throat then – not of frustration, or of annoyance, or anything like that. But simply because he can’t help it, because he, too, is a little undone at the sweetness of the idea.

A daughter, one day, getting married, in a dress like this. And suddenly, as I look up at him, I know that we’re both thinking the same thought: that we have so much life ahead of us, and so much joy, and neither of us can wait a single second longer to get started.

Roger takes my face in his hands and he kisses me, slowly, sweetly, but with the full force of his commitment to me, to us, and to our future. It sweeps though me and I press myself close against him, my hands wrapped in the fabric of his shirt, tugging him close.

Roger begins to move backwards then, slowly guiding me to the bed, but as I realize the direction of his intentions I pull away, glancing towards the doors.

“No?” he asks, a little confused.

“Um,” I say, realizing a conviction that I didn’t know I had within me until this very moment. And then I look back up into his eyes. “I think we have to go outside for this.”

“What?” he asks, confused. “Cora, there’s nothing that says – ”

“No,” I say, shaking my head, utterly convinced. “Please – I…I’m sure of it.”

And then he laughs a little, not really understanding but not caring much. He gives a quick shrug and then turns to the bed, yanking the duvet off the top and wrapping it into a ball. Then, he passes it to me. Confused, I take it, but as soon as I do Roger dips down, wrapping one arm around my back and using the other to scoop me up beneath my knees, lifting me up into his arms in one swift motion.

I’m laughing too now, enjoying every minute of it, and I nod towards the beach, and the sea, and the sky – knowing, for some reason, that we have to do this out there.

“All right, little demigoddess,” Roger murmurs, his lips close to my ear now. “Under your mother’s moonlight, as you will it.” And then he carries me out into the sand, which as he says well-lit by the full moon above. is

“Oh,” I say, looking up into the sky. ” Do you think that’s it? Because something is…calling me, if that’s the right way to say it. Not even a tug, just an instinct.”

“I think mating ceremonies happened under the moon a lot in years past,” he says, stopping when we’re surrounded by sand on all sides, much closer now to the sea than to the little house, which shines like a happy beacon in the distance. “But, considering who your mom is…I think maybe she wants to see it.”

I smile at him as he puts me down on my feet, my toes singing a bit to touch the sand. I love the beach – always have.

“Well, that’s very romantic,” I say, looking up at the moon. “Plus, we need a witness.”

“Nah,” Roger says, shaking his head and taking the blanket from my hands, shaking it out and spreading it out in a crisp rectangle on the sand. “Mating ceremonies – they don’t need witnesses, unless you want them. They speak for themselves. Once you have my mark it is…just known, I guess.”

A little shiver runs through me at the thought of it, my wolf beginning to pant eagerly in anticipation. She’s been wanting this for a long time, I know, and frustrated me for continuing to put it off.

But…I was right. Because this moment? It’s so perfect that I wouldn’t have wanted his mark in any other place, any other time, any other way.

Roger holds out a hand to me, and I smile and take it, and then we step forward onto the blanket, moving to the center.

And then, to my surprise, Roger goes to his knees. I don’t ask questions though, instead simply following suit, turning so that I face him, our hands loosely clasped between us, our knees touching.

I smile up at my mate, who looks so incredibly gorgeous in the moonlight, with the night air blowing between us. And he smiles right back at me, shaking his head a little in wonder. Then he sets his shoulders, his face turning serious.

“I take you, Cora,” he says, his voice low and soft. “As my love and my mate, for the rest of our lives and whatever comes next. I promise you the protection of my body and the warmth of my spirit. I will hold you close on dark nights and bright days. I love you, quite simply, forever. I am yours and you are mine.”

Something burns warm in me at that, a bright and golden thing wrapping itself around that bond that already exists between us – his promise, made true, strengthening it.

Roger smiles at me, gentle. “Your turn,” he whispers.