Page 36 of Lunar's Ruined Alpha

“What else did Rowan say about it?”

“Not much else.” I do my best not to let the blush rise to my cheeks when I recall exactly why that particular conversation was cut short. “He seems concerned, though.”

“Well, you know Alphas. They love to be worried about things.”

“Yeah…”

“Alphas with children are particularly protective,” Zahra carries on, schooling me as if I haven’t also lived my entire life drenched in shifter culture.

I quirk an eyebrow at her. “So, you think Rowan is just being dramatic?”

“No, not at all. It’s just—I don’t know. I haven’t heard anything, so it’s probably not a big deal.”

She sounds skeptical even as she utters the words, and I decide it’s better not to push it. It’s not wise of me to encourage Zahra to question her Alpha. Especially not with all of the implied influence that I’ve gained in their eyes at Rowan’s Mate. Someone might start to think that I’m up to something.

Or maybe I’m just being paranoid. I’ve gotten by the past several years by flying under the radar. I’ve done everything I could to avoid rocking the boat, and it’s served me and Noah well. Anything that risks disturbing the peace makes my skin crawl with anxiety, because if I can’t claim a home here in Whiterose territory, I’m going to have to find somewhere new.

No matter how much I’m drawn to Rowan in a physical sense, I’m not going to agree to come back to Greenbriar territory. I meant what I said last night.

“Want more coffee?” I ask Zahra.

She blinks as if she’s lost in thought. “Hm? No, thanks. Actually, I should probably get going. Told Mom I’d stop before dinner. I’ll see you later?”

I offer her a mocking salute. “You know where to find me.”

Zahra chuckles and rises from the bar stool. We both know that I’m at The Diner almost every single day. Life isn’t cheap, I need a paycheck, and it’s not like I have anything better to do.

After Zahra leaves, I check the time. I only have about fifteen minutes left of my shift, but I can already hear the evening bartendertalking loudly in the kitchen. Rick is usually here pretty early, and I’ve cleaned up the workstation nice and pretty for him, so I step out from behind the bar and head over to Noah’s table.

Rowan is the first one to look up as I approach. His expression does a strange thing. At first, it’s soft and tender, but then it quickly hardens into something that looks like a half-hearted attempt at indifference. Finally, it melts into polite resignation. A flash of memory clouds my vision for half a second—the sight of him kneeling between my spread thighs, eyes dark with ravenous desire.

I clear my throat and force that thought away.

An unbearable trickle of embarrassment drips throughout my bloodstream at that careful nonchalance of his. Clearly, Rowan’s enthusiasm was purely of a physical nature. He does not love me. He never did. And now that he’s seeing me in broad daylight, without all the passion that was born from our argument, he’s obviously not as interested in me as I foolishly assumed he was.

Sitting down beside Noah, I glance over at his notebook, which has been cast aside in favor of his drawing journal. He likes to sketch out his best approximations of his favorite cartoon characters, and even though most of them are a little wonky, I do think he has an impressively steady hand. Who knows? Maybe instead of confining himself to the rigid potential of an Alpha’s lifestyle, Noah will branch out and become an artist one day.

Whatever he wants, I’ll do what I can to make it a reality.

“How is the math homework coming along?” I ask him.

Noah beams at me. “All done!”

“Really? All of it?”

“Yep! Dad helped! He’s really good at math, Mom. Did you know that?”

I glance across the table at Rowan. “No, I didn’t know that.”

We went to the same school until I was fourteen, but our social circles didn’t overlap often enough for me to notice what he was good at. After my parents died, I was homeschooled with two of my cousins on the outskirts of the territory.

Rowan merely shrugs. “It’s not a very useful skill. Alphas don’t exactly worry themselves with balancing the pack’s checkbooks.”

“Mom is really bad at math,” Noah chimes in.

I place a hand over my heart, pretending to be horribly offended by that. It makes Noah burst out into a fit of giggles.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Rowan says, clearly trying not to laugh along with him.

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