Page 59 of Alpha's Impostor Bride

“Yes.”

“But you said—”

“Do you want to come or not?” I demand.

He nods.

“Then be ready.”

“That’s the day of your mating ceremony. Are we leaving after it?”

“No,” I say coldly, turning my back and walking out. “Before.”

I’ll be damned if I give that woman the satisfaction of having a mating ceremony. Let this castle rot. I’ll stay at the border and do my duty.

Without Leanna, this place feels empty. It’s no longer my home.

Chapter 12

Leanna Avery

Eight years later

“Finn! Finn Avery, you put down that box right now!”

My seven-year-old flinches before looking over his shoulder at me sheepishly. “Mom. You’re awake.”

I flick on the lights of the kitchen to see my son standing on a stool, the snacks cupboard open and a box of wafers in his hands. “Of course I’m awake. You knocked over two lamps on your way to the kitchen. You could wake the dead with how much noise you make.”

“I was hungry.”

“Oh, you were, were you?” I narrow my eyes at him. “Would this have anything to do with the fact that you shifted while I was out tonight and wreaked havoc in the house? Nice job trying to tape up the painting you ripped.”

His mouth moves like a fish’s before he finally mutters, “Saw that, did you?”

“Yes, I did. How many times do I have to tell you not to shift when I’m not home?”

I pluck the snack box from his hand, put it back in the cupboard, and close the door. Lifting him from the stool, I set him down on the ground. “I’ll make you something to eat.”

“Can we have meat?” he asks eagerly as I open the fridge.

“That’s what I was going to give you.” I take out some beef tenderloins and heat up the wok. I toss some frozen vegetables into the pan after the beef has cooked through, stir-frying it with some sauces. There’s a packet of pre-boiled noodles that find their way in there, as well.

My son perches on the kitchen counter, watching me. “You were out really late, Mom. You were supposed to tuck me in and read to me from the storybook. Maya doesn’t read it like you do.”

“I know.” I kiss him on the nose. “I had something to do. I figured you would be asleep by now. Didn’t Maya tuck you in?”

“I wasn’t tired.” He kicks his small legs back and forth, looking eagerly at the food.

“You didn’t shift in front of her, did you?” I frown at him.

He looks guilty. “She just wanted to see how fast I could run. We were careful!”

My jaw tenses. “Finn, I don’t want you revealing your form in front of her unnecessarily. I want you to be careful. You shouldn’t trust just anybody.”

“But Maya isn’t just anybody. She’s our friend,” my son argues.

I can understand his attachment to the human veterinarian and researcher. Maya was my roommate when I first came here. She had just graduated and joined a clinic. We were both tight on funds, so the arrangement worked well for us. And then it continued for three years, so Finn grew up around her.

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