Isabel's Choice

Prologue - told by Ayn

Orange cards.

Green cards.

ID.

Phone.

Gun.

Present for Sybille.

A last scan of the room, to make sure I didn't forget anything.

***

Among the flasks and books that clutter my desk I spot my current favorite picture, a gift I received from my sons for my birthday last week.

Lars, my oldest one, is crouching on the left. He is shamelessly tall and broad, and for this picture he actually made a solid effort to braid his untamable wavy mane. His gorgeous ice-colored eyes are squinting at the delicate water maelstrom he is spawning at the base of Eagle Rock.

At the end of spring Lars will turn twenty. He might not be ready to get his wings, but he is definitely ready to be Alpha. The boy is a born leader, thoughtful and kind. I wish the Moon Goddess would see all his qualities and bless him with a mate in the near future.

Sven is standing in the middle, because he is the middle. The second son, the buffer, the balance holder. A perfect fire circle claims his space in the brotherhood. He was miserable when his core settled into a Firestarter instead of a Healer one, like mine. After all, Sven and I share important personality aspects - like the borderline pathological empathy and the  interest in keeping the fun to work ratio very high. From our three, he's also the only one that slightly looks like me - softer features, funky brown-green eyes and bizarrely colored hair. In the last months though, as his body grew exponentially preparing for the emergence of his wolf, he chose to dull the beautiful midnight blue curls with various plant-based concoctions. And it's sad, because I fear that his beast awakening will tear us apart, much like the one of Eino did.

Eino is our youngest and yet his inner creature is the oldest. It awoke in my son's gangly teenage body three years ahead of schedule. We were surprised although maybe we shouldn't have been. Life claimed Eino in a hurry from the beginning. He nested in my womb several weeks after Sven's birth and he came out of it three months ahead of schedule. So he'll turn eighteen in winter. 

In this picture, Eino stands on the right. His long frame is leaning against the cliff. Maybe he's doing it because he is obsessed with climbing. Maybe it's because he needs support to navigate the ordeal of making a birthday present for his mother. His handsome lips rest relaxed, in a straight line, the closest expression to a smile he can muster.

Gone are the days when he snuck in this very room to inspect my books with sticky toddler hands and share with me his cuddles and giggles.

"I miss you, little one" I whisper, brushing my finger over his two-dimensional figure.

"Good morning, love."

The low growly voice which interrupts my musings - but instantly soothes my core - belongs to Kari, the father of my three males. My Alpha. My mate. My soul.

I note with delight that he is wearing an outfit that's among my favorites - which is to say he is practically naked, save for a pair of loose slacks that hang low on his hips.

I cannot move with wolf speed, but I am a decent flier.

"I missed you," I whisper, landing in his arms and claiming his mouth that I haven't kissed since eighty hours.

"I missed you too." Leaning me against the desk, his tongue trails along my neck, lovingly exploring every inch of exposed skin.

"How was your meeting?" I ask out of habit. Right now I care more about wiggling my fingers under the seam of his pants than about his alliance negotiations in the East.