Dreaming of a Wolf (Snowdonia Wolves)

Dreaming of a Wolf

A Snowdonia Wolves Novella

Sofia Grey

This book is a work of fiction.

While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by Sofia Grey

All Rights Reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

Manufactured in the United States of America

Acelette Press

Alun was Olivia's first, and he was supposed to be her forever. After a tragic accident steals him away, Olivia wonders how she can ever be whole again.

When he starts talking to her in her dreams, she has to ask herself: is she going mad with grief, or is there still a chance for their forever?

Alun was my first, and I thought he would be my forever. Then he was taken from me.

This is our story.

It just seemed so fucking unfair. It should have been pouring down, with heavy grey clouds, and an arctic wind swirling dead leaves around our ankles. We should have huddled under umbrellas, our tears obscured by rain. Instead, there was brilliant sunshine. Birds sang, children played in a nearby park, and lovers held hands and kissed by the pond.

Everything carried on as normal.

The vicar rumbled on, switching to Welsh and producing even more tears from Alun’s family. A small girl toddled forward, and peered into the hole that had been torn in the ground. She held a crumpled bunch of flowers, and tossed them on top of his coffin, before running back to her mother—one of Alun’s sisters.

The sun continued to beat down, but I tugged my coat closer around me. Even on this absurdly hot autumn day, I was frozen. I didn’t think I’d ever be warm again.

Alun was only twenty-one. We shouldn’t be putting his remains in the ground. He should be standing here now, chattering about obscure bands he’d seen in the pub, whistling out of key, and tangling his fingers with mine. Kissing me. Reminding me, in his seductive, lilting voice, how I’d marry him one day. How he’d keep asking until I gave in.

I’d only been to one funeral before this, for my grandfather, and that was a few years ago. I’d been an awkward, gangly teenager, subdued by the grief that surrounded me. I’d barely known my dad’s father, and so I’d kept quiet and stared at the ground a lot.

Now I wondered if everyone in the village had turned out for this. How well Alun had been loved. There must have been thirty from our combined group of University friends, and many faces  I recognized from family gatherings. His family all shared his brilliant blue eyes, an unearthly shade that almost glowed at night. I’d wondered if our children, one day, would share those eyes too.

Standing beside me, Tom wrapped an arm around my shoulders and turned my head into his chest. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Let it go.”

I’d been crying silently, and the tears continued to fall, slow and steady, blotted by his shirt.

Somebody stroked a gentle circle on my back. Probably Luce, Tom’s girlfriend.

“You
are
coming to the pub with us?” Yes, it was Luce. She and Tom had welcomed me into their circle with open arms, even though the only thing we had in common was Alun. They’d grown up with him in this picture postcard village in deepest Snowdonia.

His voice rang in my head. His laugh as he tried to coax me to wrap my Manchester tongue around the complicated Welsh syllables. “It’s not Tanygrisiau, it’s Tan-na-
grish
-eye.”

I’d never hear that voice again, unless he visited my dreams. In the shock and numbness that followed the news about his death, I’d stopped dreaming. Completely. For most of the last four years, since we first kissed on that long ago summer holiday, I’d dreamed of him almost every night. We’d have long, playful conversations and kiss and make love. God. The dreams had been so real.

When I’d told him about them, he flashed me a smug grin, those gorgeous blue eyes twinkling, and told me, “We’re a bit psychic in my family. How d’you know they’re not real?”

I’d scoffed, of course. Even though it was odd how things I swore we only talked about in dreams, he somehow remembered too.

With a start, I realized the crowd had thinned, and just a handful of us stood beside the grave.

Alun’s mum came and hugged me. “I can’t face going to the pub, so we’re going home instead. Do come and see me before you leave.”

I nodded, unable to find the words to reply. I wasn’t sure I could face the wake either.

****

In the end, I just wanted to be by myself. I’d given my apologies, taken a cab back to the nearest town with a mainline rail station, and caught the first train that went anywhere near Manchester. Many hours later, I arrived home, to the place I grew up. Since finishing at University, I’d moved all my stuff back here, but it’d only been intended as a temporary stop. Alun and I were looking for somewhere together.

I pressed my fists into my temples. We
had been
looking. This was going to take some getting used to.

It was Mum’s turn to hug me. My parents had offered to accompany me, but it was something I needed to do on my own. All I wanted to do now was sleep, and hope to dream of him again.

I squeezed my eyes tight shut, and focused on Alun. If I held him in my thoughts when I fell asleep, I might dream of him. Instead, I dived into a memory of the day we met.

Tansy’s parents had rented a cottage in St Ives, a bustling and colorful seaside town in Cornwall. At the last minute, they’d been unable to go. It didn’t take much for Tansy, my then-best friend, to persuade me. With my High School exams behind me, and a fine art degree course at St Andrews beckoning, I was happy to take a two-week holiday with my school friends. Jools came too, and Brigitte—a stunning blonde Swede—and we vowed to make this a holiday to remember.

The drive from Manchester, in peak summer traffic, was tedious. We were tired, frazzled, and grumpy after spending six hours crammed into Tansy’s small car. Jools and I were dispatched to find food, while the others made up the beds and unpacked. We were just a few minutes’ walk from the sea, and that was where we headed, when we found a café about to close for the day, right on the waterfront.

Standing out front, a striped apron tied around his slim waist, was the most delicious guy I’d ever seen. Shaggy light brown hair fell to his collar in messy abandon, and white teeth gleamed in a friendly smile, but it was his eyes that drew me.

I studied art, and knew more than a little about painting, but I couldn’t come up with a color to adequately describe his eyes. Cerulean blue perhaps? The shade of the Aegean Sea on a postcard of Greece? Darker than sapphire, bluer than lapis lazuli, they twinkled at us both as we stared at this vision of godliness.

“We’re just closing, but I could get you a takeout.” His voice had an equally delicious lilting Welsh accent. I clutched Jools’s arm. He could have been reciting a shopping list; I still would have hung on every word.

He grinned, and ran a hand through his hair, the multiple string bracelets on his wrist shifting as he did. “Or maybe you’re in need of a drink. I’ll be finished here in ten minutes, if you don’t mind waiting, and then we could go to the pub. We can sit outside, and watch the sun go down over the sea.”

“Food,” muttered Jools, and I shook myself into action.

I longed to say
pub
, but Tansy and Brigitte were waiting for us. “A takeout?” My voice came out croaky, and I probably sounded stupid, but he continued to smile as though we were the nicest things he’d seen all day. The idea of sitting somewhere and watching the sunset with him was too tempting for words. “Our friends are waiting, you see.”

“Maybe the pub later?”

I shoved my hands in my pockets, and tried to look nonchalant. “Maybe.”

His smile grew wider. Wiping his hands on his apron first, he pointed to a grey stone building farther along the waterfront. “The Old King. Meet me there in an hour? Are you here on holiday?”

My brain was slow to process his words, and I scrambled to reply. “Yes, we’re renting a cottage. There’re four of us.”

“I’ll bring some friends too.” Was that a dimple that flashed in his cheek?

“Pinch me now,” I whispered to Jools. “I must be dreaming.”

I must have been louder than I thought, for he snorted with laughter. “I think you must be hungry. Let me get you fish and chips now, and then we can have dessert in the pub.”

I knew that once he clapped eyes on Brigitte, he’d forget me, and so I basked in his attention while I had it. Jools and I perched at the counter inside, while he sweet-talked the chef into cooking for us, fixed us tall glasses of iced coffee, and found us some chocolate chip cookies to nibble while we waited.

It was only as we left, laden with hot food, that I realized we hadn’t swapped names.

****

The insistent buzzing of my phone dragged me out of my memories, and back to the new Alun-less reality. With a huge measure of reluctance, I answered.

It was Luce, and from the slurring in her voice, she was very drunk. “Why didn’t you stay, Livvy?”

I fumbled for the right words, and tripped over them. “I couldn’t face it.” Like a wounded animal, I’d sought refuge in a safe place. “I’m sorry.”

“He loved you so much, Livvy. So much.” I heard a muffled sob, and my heart ached even more. “You were his Mate and he was lucky to find you.” The raw grief in her voice threatened what remained of my composure.

“His soulmate, you mean? I always thought that.”

“His
what
?” Luce paused, and then muttered something under her breath.

“Sorry, didn’t quite catch that.”

“Oh, shit. You didn’t know.” The words rattled out of her, rapid and shaky. “I thought… Fuck. Forget I said that. His soulmate, yeah.”

“What did you mean, Luce?”

I heard a muffled rustling sound, and then Tom spoke. “Hey. Don’t pay any attention to Luce. She’s talking rubbish. I’m taking her home now.” His tone softened. “Don’t be a stranger, Livvy. Come back and see us soon.”

I made a non-committal noise, and hung up to stare blankly at the ceiling again. Luce was a lawyer. Being clear on details could have been her mantra, so what had she been talking about? What didn’t I know about Alun that maybe he should have told me?

I lay on my side in bed, facing Alun, knees bent, our hands linked between us. He was cooking up some mischief, I was sure. The devilish glint in his eyes was usually a precursor to some wild idea. Driving twenty miles in the darkness of very early morning to watch the sun rising from a particular hill top. Throwing clothes and toiletries into a backpack for an impromptu weekend hike. Kite flying on a windy beach.

I’d never been so impulsive before I met him, or as bold.

He squeezed my fingers.
Here we go.
“You
are
going to marry me, aren’t you, Olivia Tanner?”

He asked me every time we got together, and I couldn’t help giggling. “You know I am, but not yet. We graduate first, figure out where we’re going to live, and
then
we get married.” I rubbed my knees against his, and watched a smile spread across his face. “What’s the rush?”

“You’re my Mate,
Cariad
.” The Welsh endearment sounded beautiful the way it rolled from his tongue. “I’m impatient to share my life with you.”

I blinked, and he was gone. My heart skittered, and I took a rapid breath
. Had I been asleep?

Cautious, I stretched out one hand to where he’d been lying. The sheets were cold. He’d looked real. Felt as alive as he always had.
You’re my Mate.
I’d never heard him call me that before.

I buried my face in the pillow, and clung to it with both hands. The conversation with Luce must have been playing on my mind. I’d have to call her later. Fears assaulted me. What was I going to do without him? How would I fill my days? He was meshed into my life so tightly. I couldn’t just untangle him and move on, even if I wanted to.

For the first time in my adult life, I had no direction, and it terrified me. Everything had been planned out—with Alun. He didn’t want to live too far from Wales, and so we’d been looking at Bristol for jobs. I had another interview lined up next week—or was it this week? I’d have to reschedule. I was in no fit state to sit an interview.

****

A week later, I perched on a hard chair in my doctor’s examining room. “I can’t sleep.” I stared at the sunshine pouring through the window, and remembered the funeral. “I just lie there and stare at the ceiling. I don’t think I’ve slept properly since…” I swallowed. “Since two weeks ago.”

My doctor had known me since childhood. He sat back in his chair, and steepled his fingers together. “I’m not prescribing sleeping pills. Not just yet, anyway. Have you tried warm milk at bedtime? Chamomile tea? A little yoga in the evening?”

“Yes, yes, and yes.” It felt as though my eyes were filled with grit; they were so tired.

“It’s only been two weeks.” His voice was sympathetic. “It must have been a huge shock.”

I wrapped my arms around myself. It was still too painful to think about.

He carried on. “Any nightmares?”

“No.” You needed to be able to sleep, to have nightmares.

“I can give you a referral, if you’d like to talk to someone.”

I didn’t want to talk. I just wanted to sleep. If I slept, I might be able to dream of Alun.

****

Hot breath flashed over my neck, and a familiar hand closed around my breast. I knew with a pang that it was a dream, but I’d make the most of every second, just to be with him again.

“
Cariad
,” he murmured, his voice vibrating against my skin. His thumb brushed my aching nipple, and I moaned, aroused just from that brief touch.

“Let me turn around,” I mumbled. “Want to kiss you.”

“Nope. Stay there.” He slid his hand across my stomach, skirted my hipbone, and squeezed my butt. “You have the most gorgeous ass I’ve ever seen.”

We were in bed, but I couldn’t be sure
where
. When he nipped my ear and then licked away the sting, I realized I didn’t care.

“I have to be inside you. I’ve missed you, baby.” He nudged my thigh and bent my leg at the knee, gaining access to my pussy. “Jesus, you’re so fuckin’ wet already.” Sometimes he teased me, but not tonight. He nuzzled my neck, and I arched my back, leaning into his caress. I was hungry too. His cock bumped my ass, and I tried to touch him, but he wouldn’t let me.

My breasts yearned for his touch, and I wanted his mouth on mine. “Alun,” I whispered.

In reply, he sank two fingers inside me, and I forgot how to speak. I think I cried out. I couldn’t be sure. He groaned, and held me tighter, one hand pumping in me, the other holding my hip. Caging me.

“Now,” I murmured.

“Now.” He surged forward. His cock filled me in one deep, swift thrust. Holding my leg up, he kept me in position, and slowly pulled back, before gliding in again. I moaned, every nerve ending alight.

We’d stopped using condoms a while ago, when I went on the pill, but I still wasn’t used to the feeling of heat from his naked dick. Pleasure radiated through me.

“Livs,” he whispered, “you feel so good, baby.” He continued to torture me, slowly pushing in, only to retreat, pause, and then ease back in on another slow glide. It was torment of the most delicious kind. “Touch yourself,
Cariad
.”

I obeyed, my fingers grazing my clit, and making my insides clench even tighter.

“Oh, fuck.” He groaned, and then shifted position a little. Thrusting deep, he finally sped up.

I rubbed my clit in time to his rhythm, and in moments, I balanced on a knife-edge. My stomach tightened, and every cell seemed to hold its breath, waiting for Alun.

“Now,” he said, and sank his teeth into the tender flesh of my shoulder.

“Alun,” I cried, and opened my eyes.

Sunlight flooded the room. I was alone in bed.