The Alpha's forbidden omega mate - Chapter 321: Chapter 321

Rowan POV:
The scent of freshly baked bread and simmering herbs, a comforting aroma that always spoke of home, filled the small kitchen, a familiar sanctuary between the Magnus Packhouse's activity.
I paused in the doorway, my gaze drawn to the small figure at the table, his dark hair tousled, his amber eyes fixed intently on the pictures in a worn book, his small fingers tracing the outlines of wolves and trees and fantastical creatures.
Lucas. My son.
A wave of warmth, a bittersweet longing, washed over me.
I’d missed so much. Five years stolen from me, a void that I was now desperately trying to fill, a love I was determined to reclaim.
I walked into the kitchen.
“Hey, little man,” I said softly, my voice a low rumble, my hand reaching out to ruffle Lucas's dark hair, a gesture that made him giggle, his small body vibrating with delight.
“What are you up to?”
He looked up, his amber eyes, so like mine, shining with a mix of excitement and childish wonder.
“I’m eating my stew, Dada!” he exclaimed, his voice a sweet melody that made my heart ache.
“It’s the best stew ever! Grandma Maggie made it.”
A genuine smile touched my lips. Maggie, her lavender scent a comforting presence, was at the stove, her movements fluid and efficient.
She’d been a constant for Lucas, a source of love and strength, a reminder of the family I was fighting to reclaim.
“It smells delicious, pup,” I said, my gaze meeting hers, a silent acknowledgment of the bond we shared, the love we both held for Lucas, the gratitude I felt for her unwavering support.
She offered a small, knowing smile before turning back to the stew, a subtle grace in her movements, an unspoken understanding that made me feel at peace, a reminder that I wasn't alone in this.
I settled into the chair beside Lucas, my gaze fixed on him, the pup I’d almost lost, the son I was determined to protect, the boy who had captured my heart.
“Maybe I will, my boy,” I said, lifting a skeptical eyebrow.
“But first, you finish your bowl. You need to be strong. We might have a long day ahead of us.”
He nodded, his small hand gripping his spoon, his attention now fully focused on the task at hand, the stew a comforting distraction, a reminder of the normal routine we were trying to rebuild.
The familiar comfort that had been threatened, but not completely destroyed, by the shadows that still lingered, the darkness that still loomed.
I settled into the chair next to him, my wolf finally relaxing, a quiet happiness settling within me, a peace I hadn't felt since… before.
I took a spoonful of stew from his bowl, the familiar flavors a mix of herbs and a hearty richness that spoke of home, of pack, of a love that had been tested but never broken.
“It is good,” I said, my gaze meeting Maggie's, her eyes shining with a mixture of relief and concern, a silent understanding passing between us.
She offered a small, knowing smile before looking away to finish putting the kitchen in order.
"enough," Lucas said after a few bites, pushing the bowl toward me.
His small face looked up to me with an intensity that was oddly unnerving, a reflection of Catrina's spirit.
"Really? All that good food?" I asked, lifting a skeptical eyebrow.
He really was a Magnus through and through.
He nodded his head, his dark hair flopping, and then surprised me by climbing onto my lap. He rested his head on my chest, letting out a small sigh.
My heart ached, a mix of joy and a bittersweet longing, as I wrapped my arms around his small body, his scent, a mix of lavender, vanilla, and a spark of wolfish energy, a welcome warmth.
“Dada?” he asked, his voice a soft murmur, a mix of childish curiosity. “Will… will you… stay?”
I held him closer, my heart swelling with a love that was both fierce and tender, a promise I made to my son, to myself, to the world.
“I’m here now, Lucas,” I whispered, my voice a vow, a commitment to him, to my pack, to my mate, to my destiny. “And I’m not leaving. Not ever.”
His small hand reached up, his tiny fingers gently tracing the lines of my jaw, a connection that transcended the boundaries of time and loss, a love that was both my greatest strength, my greatest vulnerability.
“Then, will you… will you tell me stories, Dada?”
He asked, his amber eyes shining with hope, with a longing for a connection, a family, a love that was finally within his grasp.
“Stories about… wolves? And… and magic? And… and you?”
I smiled then, a genuine smile that chased away the shadows, the doubts, the fears, replacing them with a warmth that spread through my limbs.
“I’ll tell you all the stories you want, Lucas,”
I said, my hand reaching up to stroke his hair, my heart aching for the time we’d lost, the moments we’d been denied, the memories we were only beginning to create.
“Stories about everything. About wolves. About magic. About heroes.”
And as he snuggled closer, his small body heavy against mine, his breathing soft and even, the warmth of his love, his trust, his acceptance, a reminder of all that we had to protect.
“He’s starting to… understand, Rowan.”
Catrina’s voice, a soft murmur, a mix of observation and quiet joy.
A shared moment of peace in the chaos that had become our lives, cut through the comfortable silence, the rhythm of my breathing, the gentle thrum of Lucas’s heart against my chest.
I looked up, my gaze meeting hers, my eyes filled with a love that defied everything, a bond that transcended even death itself.
“He is,” I agreed, my hand gently cupping Lucas’s head, his dark hair so soft against my skin, a reminder of the child we were both determined to protect.
“And it’s… thanks to you, Catrina. You’re… you’re amazing with him.”
She chuckled, a soft, genuine sound that chased away the shadows, a warmth that spread through the small kitchen.
“He just needs… time, Rowan,” she said, her voice a soft whisper, a shared understanding of the challenges we faced.
“Time to heal. Time to learn. Time to remember.”
I nodded, a wave of exhaustion washing over me, the weight of our shared history, the burden of our responsibilities, a heavy reminder of the long road that stretched before us.
“But we don’t have time, Catrina,” I murmured, my voice a low growl, my gaze sweeping over the small kitchen, the familiar surroundings.
“Damien, he's still out there. And he’s using Derek. Twisting him, corrupting him, turning him into a weapon.”
“I know, Rowan,” she said, her voice firm, her gaze meeting mine, her amber eyes blazing with a fierce determination, a power that even Damien couldn’t extinguish.
“But we’re not alone. We have the pack. And we have each other.”
Her words, a promise, a vow, a reminder of the love that had endured, the bond that had been forged in the fires of loss and grief.
The destiny that was ours to embrace, sparked a flicker of hope, Catrina's love, my own alpha will, in the darkness that still lingered, a reminder that we would face this, together.
We always would.
“And what about this ‘plan’ you’ve been cooking up?” I asked.
“Something about the Silverwood Clan? And rogue wolves? And a… magic book?”
She chuckled, a soft, melodic sound that made my heart ache, her eyes lighting up, her spirit reigniting, a reminder of the woman I loved, the omega who’d defied everything, the Luna who was determined to fight.
“It’s… it’s complicated,” she said, her voice a playful drawl, her fingers tracing the lines on the cover of the ancient book she’d picked up from the table.
An exclusive edition of one of her favourites. It was a comfort she allowed herself.
“But… I think… I think I’ve found a way to… to use Damien’s magic… I have to get rid of this.”