With Hands to Hold

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The room was quiet, the only audible sound was the sloshing of water in the tub. The light of the rising moon peeked through the window of the bathroom, replacing the need for artificial light.

After their love making, Vincent helped Spiraea up and into the bathroom where he let the water run for a warm bath. He cleaned them both up with a wet flannel before helping Spiraea into the tub and sliding in behind her.

Spiraea didn’t hesitate leaning back into him, her head resting against his warm chest as they soaked together. For once, Spiraea’s mind was relatively blank. She was utterly relaxed, enjoying the touch from her mate as she waded in the beginnings of tiredness. There was something tranquil within her, she didn’t feel the need to anything besides exist in that moment- it was freeing.

One of Vincents arms laid against the rim of the tub, the other wrapped around Spiraea’s waist. His fingers lazily tracing the skin on her stomach under the warm water. He couldn’t stop thinking about how proud he was of her, about how beautiful she was, about how deeply he was in love with her. He wanted to tell the whole world, scream it from the rooftops.

“I know you said that you didn’t want to get married,” Vincent began, breaking the quiet with his voice. There was a softness in his tone, had he not displayed it countless times before, it would’ve surprised him of its quality.

Spiraea cut him off before he could continue speaking, her eyes pinched shut as she let go a small sigh. “I didn’t want to have a marriage ceremony, it wasn’t because I don’t want to marry you.”

The blank bliss of her mind now replaced with the real reason behind her hesitation, she didn’t want to ruin the evening that had been pleasant thus far but she also didn’t want to lie or keep things from from him. It had caused them to become distant with each other the last time.


The water in the tub sloshed once more as Spiraea pulled away, turning back to look at Vincent over her shoulder.

“Because I can’t wear a white dress, I don’t have a father to walk me down the aisle— it’s just too many bad memories. After Alpha Adam and Luna Leora’s wedding... It’s just not for me.”

Vincent had only heard her raise her voice once before; if he’d have known that the subject would make her so upset he would never have brought it up.

“I’m sorry baby,” Vincent apologised for upsetting her but she stopped him.

“It’s not your fault,” She murmured quietly as she contemplated telling him the rest of her past. She figured he sort of deserved it after practically blowing up on him.

Her hand reached down to intertwine hers with his. Tracing his knuckles in his comforting motion, more for herself than anything else. She wanted to tell him, but that didn’t mean it would be easy.

“I was 6 when mi mama murió. It was like papa died too.” Her lip trembled at the memory of her catatonic father. Never drunk enough to feel nor sober enough to care for his young daughter. She reminded him too much of the woman he loved, had lost, unjustly.

“He stopped caring, even for me. When alcohol stopped helping, he started the drogas... And entered a, cómo se dice, um, owe.”

“A debt,” Vincent supplied, Spiraea nodding gratefully. He desperately reminded himself to breathe, to stay calm— he had a feeling this story would not end well. He had to focus on being there for her, not about how angry it made him to think of how much she had suffered.

“The gang didn’t care about his pain, by the time they came to collect the debt, my papa couldn’t live without the drugs. He sold me to repay his debt.”

Spiraea allowed herself to cry for that day. At first she had tried to be strong, to resist because she had to.

Her father had been in such bad withdrawal, he was withering away on the floor of their tiny living room. He couldn’t even look at her, all he could think about was his next hit. She didn’t even know if he remembered he had a daughter.

The truth was, she didn’t hate her father. Not at all. In fact she knew that a part of her loved him still, and always would. He was the man that cut cake with her on her birthday, that would put on puppet shows, and would let her watch when he worked in his workshop.

He had turned into a sad man who drowned in tragedy; he had doomed her to the same life too. But if he had never done that, she never would’ve found the Werewolf world, she never would have found Vincent.

“I was only with the gang for a couple of years, the shipped me to the UK when I was 14. Then they sold me to Damien’s pack after I turned 15.” Spiraea’s throat thickened, the worst years of her life were spent in Damien’s pack. “You know the rest...”

She had thought that the first few months with the gang was hell. She was only thirteen at the time but she was a spitfire. She refused to obey, but with each rebellion she learnt painfully, where her place was. She was lucky, she was still young, and they would not violate her in the way that they would to the other girls, not if she promised to obey, so she did.

She lost hope of getting away, all of her dreams of being rescued, or running away was stripped from her. And after being sold once more, into the hands of a much more ruthless beast, she accepted that her fate. To be a broken, used object for the rest of her life.

Then she met Vincent.

“Oh little one,” He held a her impossibly closer, kissing the top of her hair gently. “I’m so sorry. I wish you hadn’t gone through that.”

“Don’t be. Que sera sera.” She said, and she meant it. Whatever will be will be, exactly the way it was supposed to; she truly believed that. Now more than ever.

If anything about either of them had been different, then perhaps they would not be the way they are now, together. It made her think that she would take everything all over again if it meant she would meet Vincent.

He was worth it.

The next morning, Spiraea awoke to the sunlight streaming through the curtains. She had been careful not to wake Vincent as she turned to face him, brushing his hair out of his face with tentative fingers.

Her cheeks felt hot as she remembered the night before, between her legs throbbing lightly. She didn’t hurt as much as she usually would, she supposed it was because of how gentle Vincent had tried to be. She rolled out of bed gently, putting in Vincents discarded shirt before creeping out the door.

Vincent found Spiraea being the stove making her sinfully delicious pancakes. Though after the night before, he couldn’t help thinking about how sinfully delicious she tasted.

His arms wrapped themselves around her waist, pulling himself closer to her. Her warmth in his arms felt so right, he would have her in his arms all of the time if he could. His face nuzzled her neck and shoulder gently, kissing her soft skin where his shirt had fallen off her bronze shoulder.

“Good morning Little One,” He mumbled against her skin, kissing her temple with a lingering peck.

“Good morning,” Spiraea whispered, almost shyly in response. “I thought you’d be hungry after last night so I’m making pancakes.”

“Mmm... I don’t think I’m hungry for pancakes...”

The man nipped her flesh playfully, but with every intention of following through on the promise that his tone held. If he had his way, neither of them would be leaving the house for the next few days.

“Vincent!” She shrieked with laughter, her scolding lost in her happiness. “I’m working in the nursery today.”

Vincent pulled away to watch her. There was something about the way she brightened up when she spoke about her work. It made him happy to see how happy she was.

“You’re so beautiful. I love you.”

Spiraea didn’t even have time to respond, as he spun her around, his mouth devouring hers with a fiery passion. The pancakes forgotten as he lifted her to sit on the counter top, his mouth never leaving hers. He was drowning and she was his air.

The couple dallied there a moment longer, enjoying each other right there in the kitchen. There was no protests on either part as they replayed their ardent play of the previous night before sitting down to breakfast.

After breakfast, the couple went about their day as normal.

Vincent had a whole lot more work to do arranging the summit, so he spent much of the day on the phone or with Fletcher and his father. Spiraea spent her time bustling about the nursery, only stopping for lunch which she went to eat with Vincent in his office.

It was exciting for them both to see Spiraea finally being able to eat a full sized meal. Her appetite was healthy, and she herself was radiant with renewed health. The changes had been so gradual so to see the huge difference in her was impeccable.

She would have to visit Doctor Analise again soon for another health check soon. Considering she was now feeling and doing so much better, she supposed that it wasn’t too much of an urgent matter.

After lunch, Spiraea got back to the nursery and Vincent finished up his plans, confirming the attendance of all the other Alphas.

“Now that all of that is finally out of the way, I’m going to see my mate. ” He sighed happily, somewhat giddy at the prospect of seeing her again. His mind wandered back to their conversation from the night before.

He understood her pain and her not wanting to marry him, though it still stung like a rejection. He knew it was because of the memories and not because of her— he wondered how she would react to him bringing up the ceremony.

He didn’t want to hurt her, but he also didn’t want her hurt to stop her from doing things. Plus, it was a compromise of sorts— one that was tons better than a human marriage anyway.

His feet carried him to where he both needed and wanted to be. He found her, leaning over one of the small cribs to rest down one of the pups— a small boy, it would seem they were both very close to one another.

She put him down gently, covering him with the small blanket with a cautious care. Vincent snuck up behind her, rubbing her arms soothingly as he kissed the back of her neck.

“Ready to go home little one?”

“Um,” She hesitated lingering over the cot. She was afraid that when she left he would wake up again, he had a terrible habit of doing that. “Okay. I want to talk about something later.”

“Me too, we can talk over dinner.”

The girl nodded in agreement. The couple said their goodbyes before leaving, the trek home taking them a leisurely 10 minutes.

They kicked off their shoes by the front door of the cabin breathing in the familiar scent of home.

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