Page 7 of Alpha's Twins
“Just getting something for the car.” He leans against the frame, casual and easy. Everything I’m not. “Hungry?”
I nod, my throat tight, wishing I could just shrink away.
“Stay,” he says, and I weigh up whether it’s a request or an order. His expression is easygoing, but I can sense the alpha power brimming beneath his laid-back exterior. I open my mouth to argue, but he’s already moving, taking the bread frommy hands and setting it on the counter. “How do you like your eggs?”
“Uh, scrambled?” I say, like I’m not sure. Like I’ve never had eggs before.
“Scrambled it is.” He cracks the eggs with one hand, whisking them with a fluidity that makes me feel even more awkward, like my limbs are too heavy, too graceless. Like the rest of me. I hover by the fridge, unsure if I should sit or stand, if I should stay or make a run for it.
He glances over at me, eyes bright and curious. “You can sit, you know. I don’t bite.”
I laugh, a small, nervous sound. He gestures to the table, and I finally move, pulling out a chair. The wood is cool beneath my fingers, grounding me as I watch him.
“So,” he says, his back to me as he stirs the eggs. “How are you liking the town?”
“It’s nice,” I say, which sounds lame even to me. I clear my throat, trying to find words that don’t stick. “I mean, I haven’t really seen much of it, but it seems different. From what I’m used to.”
He nods, turning to face me. “You haven’t been out much yet?”
I shake my head, not wanting to admit I haven’t been anywhere since the ceremony. He sighs, “Sorry, that’s my fault. I should have taken you out, or you know, arranged something.”
I’m surprised; I hadn’t even considered that he might bother taking me out, anyway. I wave the thought away with my hand. “I don’t need you to do anything.”
He stops what he’s doing for a moment and looks up at me, the slight glow to his amber eyes unsettling me for amoment. “I don’t do anything I don’t want to, Serena,” he grins. “Besides, you’re the luna here now. You need to know the town and the people. I think they’re all quite keen to meet you.”
“Oh,” I reply simply. I hadn’t even considered anyone here would actually want to meet me.
He looks at me closely, like he’s trying to piece me together, and I feel the urge to hide, to curl inward. Instead, I force myself to sit up straighter, to meet his eyes. He slides a plate over to me and starts digging into his own breakfast as silence falls between us for a moment.
“What’s that thing you do with the plants?” he finally asks, his voice casual but his expression intent.
My heart skips a beat, wondering how he knows. “I just arrange flowers. Make them look pretty.”
He raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Pretty, huh?”
I nod and shrug, trying to make it seem like nothing. “It’s not a big deal.”
“I saw what you did with the bouquet during the ceremony,” he reminds me. “It was pretty and magical. Do you have other gifts?”
I can feel the blush creeping over my cheeks, and I shake my head, staring at my plate. “No, just pretty flowers. I have—had a store on the mainland, we supplied events.”
He looks genuinely surprised, and I wonder how much he actually knew about me before agreeing to this. “Supplied? Did you stop?”
I can’t help but scoff gently, “Well, I can’t run my store from here.”
He raises his brows again, and I see a flicker of understanding cross his features before he starts eating again. “You know,” he says in between bites, “being a shifter and having magic isn’t so unusual here. My family has magic, too.”
Now it’s my turn to raise my brows. I’d heard rumors that there was something strange about the alphas on the island, but I’m surprised to hear him so openly admit it. Nolan’s pack works with witches but still views all magic with a certain level of suspicion. He leans back in his chair, appraising me in a way that makes me want to squirm. “You should talk to Emily, Tristen’s mate. She’s a witch. Might be interesting to talk to you about the type of magic you have.”
My fingers fidget with the edge of my plate, and I try to keep my voice steady, carefully dismissive. “It’s just flowers.”
He shrugs, a slow smile spreading across his face. I wonder if he knows how good-looking he is. Does he make all women feel like this? “I think it’s more than that,” he finally says.
I don’t know how to respond, so I focus on eating, the eggs warm and soft, the silence stretching between us. Finally, he breaks it again.
“My brothers and I have gifts too,” he says, casually, like he’s telling me the weather forecast. “As well as being shifters.”
I meet his eyes, a flicker of curiosity getting the better of me. “Gifts?”
