Chapter 14: The Lone Alpha
Chapter Twelve. Davina.
I am doing this for Max.
I am doing this for Max.
I repeat like a mantra, willing my body to calm down, and my ovaries to stop screaming at me to get down and dirty with the man in front of me and give my son a brother or sister.
I don’t care if the man who looks better than a Greek God is looking at me like I am his lunch, jutting his tongue out slightly and licking his lips, as I bring a sausage from my bangers and mash to my mouth and let out a sexy as hell, low growl under his breath as I gather the gravy on my tongue.
Nope.
Do. Not. Care.
I do not at all, want to lick the gravy from the top of the sausage before pumping it into my mouth with a look in my eyes that tells him that I want nothing more than to suck on the sausage between his legs.
Oh Fuck! NOOOOOOO!
I need to get control back, my mind has turned into a wanton hussy, who wants to wind up the man before her until he breaks. I swear, I am not like this. I don’t imagine sexual things or tease men. What is wrong with me?
Okay, maybe I remember the night my virginity disappeared in a back alley, when alone in my bedroom. But, to deliberately want to poke the beast. Or, in this case, have the beast want to poke me? Nope. This is a first.
I place my sausage back on my plate and chop it up into tiny pieces before I continue with my stupidity.
“Mammy, I love these sausages. They are nicer than the ones we have at home,” Max informs me, as he places a piece onto his fork, adding some peas and mashed potato, dipping it into his gravy and popping it into his mouth.
“That is good. They are nice sausages,” I smiled at my son. He is not used to getting expensive food-we get the shop brand, cheap as chips versions of everything.
“Yes, because they are Irish sausages. They are the best in the world Max,” Mars grins at his son.
“So, you like a good Irish sausage then,” I quip. My mouth opens before my brain can engage.
Again, I ask,
WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?
“The question is, do you?” Mars smirked at me, and I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, as I cast my eyes down to my plate and refused point-blank to look at him. I would love to have a smart reply, but my brain freezes, and I cannot do anything but eat my food, in stony silence.
The crazy thing is, I cannot even be annoyed at him, because let’s be completely honest, this new hormonal version of myself started it.
Game. Set. And Match. To Mars. Damn him. Damn, my crazy hormones. Just… Damn!
As we continue our meal in silence, a waitress, who is all tits and teeth grins at Mars and saunters over to our table.
“Mars, good to see you tonight. Can you do me a huge favour,” She asks, batting her eyelashes.
Okay, so now I am not a violent person, but the urge to punch her in the nose, and send her overly long fake lashes flying across the room, is almost all-consuming. I feel like growling at her, just like my son.
Hell, jealousy is an ugly disease, and I have to remind myself that I do. Hell, jealousy is an ugly disease, and I have to remind myself that, I. Do. Not. Care!
“No,” Mars gruffly states, not even looking at the woman, then leans over the table and helps Max cut up the rest of his sausages. Not that he needs help, but I don’t say that, because it is clear to me, he 'wants the out' from whatever favour the tits and teeth woman so desperately needs.
“Don’t be such a grouch. Katlin has a throat issue, and we need some music in here.” She continues, clearly not willing to give up.
“No,” Mars states again.
“Oh, go on, you know your Irish folk songs are a big hit with the guests,” she continues, doing a bad impression of Mrs Doyle from Father Ted.
I look up at him, a smile on my lips.
“You sing?” I ask him, I don't know why that causes my heart to beat even faster, but it does.
Mars shrugs.
“Sometimes, but not that well,” he tells me, as Max looks up at him as if he hangs the moon and the stars.
“Daddy, I want to hear you sing!” he states.
I must admit, I wouldn’t mind hearing that velvety smooth voice singing a song, but by the look on his face, Mars did not want to acquiesce to the request.
“Daddy?” the waitress asks, her smile suddenly fading.
Mars looks over at me, clearly wanting permission to answer with the truth. Hell, Max already knows, even if he hasn’t been told, so I give a tiny bob of my head to him.
It has nothing to do with wanting to sock it to miss tits and teeth. Nope. Not. At. All.
“Yes, this is my son, Max,” Mars grins at our boy, as the waitress clears her throat, then looks me up and down as if I am shite on her shoe, before backing away from the table.
“Mammy, can Daddy sing me a song when it is bedtime?” Max asks as I do an internal fist pump at the hastily retreating waitress.
“That is up to your daddy,” I smile at him. Realising too late that I have now confirmed exactly who Mars is to my son.
“Okay, if you eat all your peas I will sing you a song at bedtime,” Mars smiles at our boy, as we continue to finish off our food.
If I thought eating sausages with Mars was causing my hormones to go crazy, it is nothing compared to watching him with Max talking about nature. My son is lapping it up, loving his life, as Mars proudly asks him to tell the group what he knows. Clearly, Max had taken notice of Justin last night. Hell, was it only one night ago when our worlds collided again? It feels a lot longer. Mars and Max finish off the nature trail, talking to the other guests. As the last one leaves, my son runs over to me. The smile on his face is infectious.
“Daddy is just doing some work with papers, then he will lock up and come with us to sing me a song,” Max grins happily.
“Okay, we will wait for him,” I smiled down at him, then, unable to resist, I gathered my boy into my arms and hold him tight to me. His small arms wrap around me as best he can and squeeze me tight. He is freakishly strong. My heart melts at how happy he is. I just hope this doesn’t all blow up in his face.
As we enter the caravan, Max unusually runs to the shower, so that he can get ready for bed. Normally, we need a little discussion about the importance of bedtime, before I can convince him to go to sleep, but with the promise of a song from his father, he is desperate to get into his PJ’s.
I strip him off as he happily chats to me about how great his day has been, and how Thrax is very happy, and is sleeping a lot more now that his daddy was about to look after us. Not sure what to make of that, but hey, if having Mars around makes my son feel safer, then I am all for it.
After his shower, and a good clean of his teeth, I pull on his PJs, and he excitedly runs to his bedroom and climbs into bed, making me giggle at him.
“I think Max is ready for your song,” I shouted to Mars, who walked into the tiny bedroom, a smile as bright as the sun on his handsome face.
I moved out of the room, as there is no space for two adults in there, and stood by the door, listening.
“So, I am going to sing you a song. It is about the potato famine in Ireland when people did not have enough to eat. You may have heard it, as it is very famous. It is called the Fields of Athenry.”
Mars began to sing, his voice so smooth, every note hit perfectly, it gave me goosebumps. Tears formed in my eyes. I know this song. I had heard it many times whilst watching the Six Nations Rugby with my father, before my parents kicked me to the curb, because of my unplanned teenage pregnancy.
“By a lonely prison wall,
I heard a young girl calling.
Micheal, they are taking you away.
For you stole Trevelyan’s corn,
So our young, might see the morn.
Now the prison ship lies waiting in the bay.
Low lie, the fields of Athenry,
Where once we watched the small free birds fly.
Our love was on the wing, we had dreams and songs to sing,
It’s so lonely, ‘round the fields of Athenry”.
The memories of my father and mother, mixed with the gorgeous voice of Mars, and the events of the past couple of days bring about a wave of emotion that can not be contained. Tears stream down my cheeks, as I watch Max looking up at his father with nothing but pure love in his eyes as Mars continues to sing.
“By a lonely prison wall,
I heard a young man calling,
Nothing matter’s Mary when your free.
Against the famine and the crown,
I rebelled, they brought me down,
Now you must, raise our child with dignity.
Low, Lie, the fields of Athenry”.
When he finally finishes the heartbreaking song that has stirred up so much emotion, Mars turns to look at me, as he hugs Max good night, then walks towards the door, and cups my face in his hands, wiping my tears with his thumbs.
I hold my breath, wondering if his soft lips will connect with mine, not sure if I can, I will resist him,