VIOLET
“Look at Rory in her new dress,” I gush, flipping through the photos that just arrived on my iPad. Rory’s mother, Kristen, and I have become fast friends. She and her pack are even planning a trip to Anchorage once the weather is nice.
Miles takes in the one-year-old girl’s dark hair and big eyes. “She looks like you.”
“Beautiful,” Noah agrees, pulling me into his chest as we all snuggle in the nest I once worked so hard to prepare, back when it was a stalling tactic rather than an anticipatory one.
My second heat with the pack has just come to its inevitable finish. Rather than rushing back to work, the guys hang around for a couple days after, spoiling me rotten.
This time they knew everything going in. We truly have no more secrets, not even unintentional ones.
Time heals all wounds. Things are better every day between me and Miles, Archer, Ben, and Noah. Time heals all wounds. That is, as long as you let yourself take it. And right now that’s what I need.
Maybe one day I’ll be ready to welcome another child into the world, but right now I’m still processing everything that happened before. I started up my birth control treatments again and told my doctor the truth about why I needed them in the first place. No more lies, not for anyone. The guys want to be dads, but more than that, they want me. They understand why this is such a tricky subject for me, and they also understand that I may never feel prepared to become a mother again. For now, they’re delighted to share in Rory’s milestones from afar. They’ve all come to love her the way I do and are happy to be uncles, which is how we’re referring to our strange web of relationships so that Rory isn’t confused as she grows up. Kristen is her mother, and she’s a damn good one.
“Dinner time!” Archer returns to the nest carrying a tray laden with food. Noah still prefers to do most of the cooking, but now everyone pitches in. Even though he’s a beta, he’s still treated as an equal. Same as before, only now that he’s not jacked up on extra testosterone, there are far fewer fights around here.
I sit up in our ridiculously large bed and pat the cushion beside me so Archer can come claim his spot at my side. He places a kiss into my ring of bites, then traces his way to my shoulder where a new ring of artwork marks me. I love gazing at Archer’s tattoos so much I decided to get one of my own. My omega mark is a violet, my namesake, and now I’ve added a little inked charm for each of my guys. An arrow for Archer, a writer’s quill for Ben, a set of cutlery for Noah, and—what else?—a cinnamon roll for Miles. Together they form a circle with a big ornateMin the middle. Pack Muldoon represent!
Archer has a new tattoo also—it’s a campfire just like the one we had that day at the cabin. He says it’s to remind him how close he came to losing his entire world. I think that’s pretty morose, but he says we have to remember our mistakes so we aren’t doomed to repeat them.
“The lights are out,” Ben says, pulling back the curtains to glance out the window.
Miles groans. “Go ahead. Let’s have it.”
“We know you want to,” Noah chimes in.
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you all are talking about,” Ben teases before grabbing me by both hands and pulling me to my feet.
“You’ve never really looked at the night sky until you’ve done so in nature. Away from the lights of big cities and pollution, especially in the Alaskan wilderness, you can look into the sky and see stars you never knew were there. Nebulas can be seen shining in the inky blackness. Constellations from nearly every culture can be observed.
“Best of all is when the light of our own atmosphere lights up the sky. Green waves of color like a magic spell paint their way across the night sky, undulating like a flag in the breeze.”
Together we sway to the music of his words. The others don’t mock or interrupt. They simply let Ben and me have our moment. We’ve all developed our own special things, and this is mine with Ben. He’s writing a book now, and I’m his very eager beta reader—or is that omega reader? Whatever the case, I’m ecstatic that he’s finally found the confidence to share his words with the world.
For now, though, I delight in the private showing that’s just for me.
Ben’s soft voice continues to float through the room, filling me with warmth and wonder. “You can almost ignore the freezing cold that comes with a display of the northern lights as wonder fills you, blocking out the chill that cuts to the bone. They only ever appear in winter. Mostly because the sun doesn’t allow for a real night sky in the summer.
“But if you’re luckier than most, you’ll even see other colors contained within the green plasma. Orange, yellow, even a touch of reds, and rarely, blues. Like a heavenly kaleidoscope in the cold winter sky.”
“You’re my heavenly kaleidoscope,” I tell Ben, booping him on the nose when I’m certain he’s finished.
He boops me right back, then crushes his lips to mine. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
“I know, that’s why it’s such an accurate description.”
“Dinner’s going to get cold, you know,” Noah warns, even though Archer was the one to put this meal together.
But I don’t come back to bed. Instead I remain standing in that window, naked as the day I was born, and I stare up at the night sky. When I first came to Anchorage, it was light all the time. Now the darkness is encroaching on more and more of our day. But I have no more secrets to hide in that darkness, as evidenced by me displaying my breasts boldly for any casual passerby to see.
I don’t care about that though. Not when I’m entranced by the glowing ribbons dancing through the sky. The guys always tell tourists that Alaska is the last magical place on earth. Whether or not that’s true, it’s certainly where I found magic.
Not in the spectacle of the heavens or the mighty spikes of the mountains, but in the ordinary, everyday things that make life worth living. At first I thought my early heat and the pregnancy that followed had ruined my life, but now I know they were always meant to happen. I may never understand the strange web of impossibilities that led to my daughter’s birth, but I’m okay chalking it up to a miracle. One way or another, that little girl was meant to be born—and I can’t wait to see how she’ll leave her mark on the world.
Yes, I am an omega, and as such I am expected to live a certain way. But I am also a person—strong and capable and beautiful and so full of love. I am an omega, but so too am I a friend, a lover, a sister, and even a mother.
None of us are ever any one thing. Like the stars above, we are complex and infinite, and we’re best when part of a constellation.
Pack Muldoon is my constellation, and—oh—the stories it has to tell.