Hiding the Alpha's Child

Rosalie

"Dorian!"

I ran inside the house with the speed of a lightning bolt, choking on my own breath as I tried to steady myself after inhaling so much cold air. I did not want him to see me like this, but I had no choice. Something had to be done as soon as possible. 

"Auntie Rosaline?"

My heart constricted with pain as I saw my son emerge from his room, wiping his tired eyes. He must have fallen asleep while waiting for me to come back from work. 

Seeing his small, sleepy face made me sigh in relief even though that reassuring feeling disappeared almost instantly. 

'What do I do now?' 

Dorian stared blankly at me, his big round eyes sending shivers down my spine. If he were to meet him, he would immediately know that Dorian was his son. 

While it would have been easy to brush off the intensity of the boy's black hair, his smooth ivory skin, the shape of his nose and ears as something more or less common, Dorian's eyes, and the betraying white streak at the crown of his head that looked like a feather that was jokingly attached to his hair, were a definite tell. 

'If they are in our territory, it means he already knows where we live. It was easy to hide our scents but it's all useless now...'

I looked at my son once again and nodded at him. "Dorian, you have to listen to me carefully now."

The boy nodded readily and another wave of relief washed over me, strength returning to my legs once again. "Is it time now?"

My eyes narrowed and tears welled up inside––both of happiness and sadness. My child was so smart, sometimes it was hard to believe that I had managed to raise someone so wonderful. 

"Yes, it's time, Dorian." I nodded too and patted him on his head. "Fetch your contact lenses and the special perfume I bought for you."

Dorian dropped his plush teddy bear on the floor and rushed back into his room while I grabbed my phone to make a call. Ring after ring, the person on the other line refused to pick up. I bit the short nail of my thumb and the pain from the blood rushing to its tip tugged me out of my annoyance. 

I was about to send a text when Dorian returned from his bedroom, the items I had asked for in his trembling little hands. 

"Here, I have already used the perfume, but I am still scared to use the contacts."

He gazed up at me with his big round eyes and I knelt down before him, offering him a forced warm smile. "It's okay, let me do it."

The boy nodded and I opened the plastic case divided in half. As I fought to steady my shaking hands, I noticed Dorian's completely calm expression and somehow, it rubbed off on me as well. 

How come he could be so calm while I was an utter mess? 

Once I was done with the contacts, I looked my son in the eyes and felt my heart drop all the way to my feet. Now, instead of two differently colored orbs, a pair of faint green eyes––just like mine––stared back at me, full of trust and admiration. 

"Miss Ravenswood?" I heard an unfamiliar male voice and briskly stood up to my feet, hiding Dorian behind my back. The intruder knocked on my door several time, repeating my name in a loud, demanding voice. 

"Miss Ravenswood, please open," the voice insisted, "there is an important matter that needs your attention."

'An important matter?'

I took a step forward, my hands stretched backwards to keep Dorian from going after me. What could be so important that that the entire envoy from the Moonshadow pack crossed the border to the rogue territory just to get me? And why now? 

Reluctant to open the door, I braced myself, cleared my throat, and replied, "What kind of matter are you talking about? And before I even think about opening the door, how about you introduce yourself first?"

My words were met with unsettling silence. Was he offended by my boldness? Nevertheless, even if he was a beta from a well-known and powerful pack, the rogues did not recognize their immediate authority, especially on their own territory. 

Whether he liked it or not, if he did not want to cause a mess, he had to be respectful. 

And then, I sensed it. The distant, yet overwhelming scent of leather and smoke, mixed with a hint of mint. The scent was so specific that I had only ever smelled it one person. 

"Rosalie," now, it was his voice. That low, yet soft and velvety voice that I had loved for so many years. "Open the door. We need to talk."