Page 42 of The Alpha’s Chosen Mate

Chapter Twenty

HARRISON

21 Years Old, December 26, 1993

It’s five minutes to midnight. Not that I’m counting.

Okay, I’m totally counting.

We’ve kept ourselves occupied for most of the evening. After fucking on the couch, we ordered room service, complete with chocolate-covered strawberries for dessert, which we fed each other between kisses. Afterwards, I carried her into the bedroom, stripped her down, and made her come three times before finally thrusting inside her and taking my pleasure.

Now, Emily stands in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the cityscape as snow drifts from the sky. She’s dressed in my shirt, with only one button fastened right in the middle. Her hair is tangled from me gripping and tugging it while she took me in her mouth and from how roughly I fucked her after dessert.

I recline against the pillows, naked under the bedsheet, so I’m ready when midnight hits. I admire how she looks in my clothing, enjoying the view of her silhouette through the thin fabric. In a few months, her belly will pop with my baby. Her petite frame will look so adorable with a round pregnant stomach.

I can’t fucking wait.

Four minutes to midnight.

“Em.” I pat the top of my thigh. “ Come back. I want you in my arms when it’s your birthday,” I add, hoping it will be enough to get her to move from her spot by the window.

She takes a deep, steadying breath as she glances at me, studiously avoiding the clock on the nightstand.

Her steps are slow—precise—as she makes her way to the bed. My gaze lazily travels the length of her legs. I imagine them draped over my shoulders, my hands gliding up and down them as I pound into her before I sink my teeth into her neck.

Only three more minutes.

Emily crawls onto the bed and settles into my lap. Her heart races, and she clings to me with trembling limbs. She doesn’t voice her worry, but I don’t need words to know her fear.

What if we’re not mates?

I shove that thought away. There’s no way we’re not mates. She feels too good in my arms and against my body. Her scent is too intoxicating, drawing in both my lycan and me. My lycan is too fond of her, too protective of her.

We’re mates. I’m sure of it. We have to be.

Two minutes to midnight.

“Tell me when it’s time,” Emily whispers against my chest.

I tighten my arms around her. “You’ll know when it’s time. You’ll feel it. We both will.”

She squeezes her eyes shut and nods. “Right.”

One minute to midnight.

I rub her back in long, uninterrupted strokes. One hand after the other, following the same path down her spine. My heart rate mimics hers, and my stomach is a whirlpool of nerves and anxiety, even with my certainty. Her fear must be leaking into me.

I stare at the clock, watching the seconds tick down.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One…

Nothing happens. The clock flips over to midnight, and nothing changes. There’s no magical, overwhelming, magnetic scent flooding my senses. There are no earth-shattering, mind-blowing sparks emanating from all the places our skin meets.

Emily still smells exquisite. Her body still feels perfect in my arms. I still love her more than I could ever imagine loving someone. But none of it becomes bigger. Better. Brighter.

It’s all just the same.

My throat tightens with my disappointment. How could I be wrong? How could there be someone else out there more perfect for me than Emily?