Page 127 of Claimed By the Rival Alpha
I’d never been inside the Redwolf—or, I guess,my—cabin before. Troy had told me that I didn’t deserve to touch such hallowed ground, and I hadn’t wanted to be closer to him than was necessary, so I hadn’t minded it being off-limits to me. Some aspects of the cabin were very beautiful—the vaulted wood ceilings, the colorful artisan tapestries that decorated the wall, the excellent rugs that lined the floor, and the crown molding. But as nice as these things were, far too much of it reminded me of Troy and his extravagant tastes.
Portraits of the Redwolf line—which was funny to say because that “line” consisted of only Gregor, Gregor’s wife Nora, and Troy—were the largest pieces of art on the wall. It tugged at my heart a bit to see a young Troy held in the arms of his mother.As I made my way down the pictures, I found one that featured Nora only. Below was a plaque that listed her date of birth and her date of death. It drew a sharp gasp from me. Troy was the only one left; Nora had apparently died while Tavi and I were in captivity. Troy had never mentioned that to me.
When I thought of the person who had stood by Gregor’s side all those years, I remembered a quiet woman whose eyes had always been a bit solemn. She was constantly surrounded by high-ranking female wolves, and I remembered that she wore fine jewelry and clothes, but I didn’t remember ever seeing her smile or hearing her laugh. It made me wonder what she’d thought about Troy’s actions. How much had she known about Night or about Gregor’s history with Violet? I would probably never know.
I turned away from the portraits and the questions they left me with. The Redwolfs hadn’t put much stock in the fine arts unless they could directly benefit from it. Hence, the tapestries and the portraits and the vases laced with fine gold thread.
I smelled the slight musk of old books down the hall. The library! Excitement pushed me to walk faster, but as I pushed the door open, my excitement waned. There were dozens of books, but most were biographies of past Kings Alphas and their family lines, thesauruses, dictionaries, and very little of anything else. There weren’t novels or books of poetry, not even an interesting memoir or an encyclopedia. The only books that I had immediate interest in were some cookbooks that dated back a couple hundred years.
Other than those, as far as I could tell, this room was little more than storage…or maybe it was for show. If the Redwolfs wanted to impress someone, such as a visiting Alpha from a friendlypack, they could bring them in here to boast about the Kings’ long history of battles won.
All it showed me, however, was that the Kings’ Alphas had been closed off from the rest of the world. It might have been childish of me to assume that there would be any fiction or poetry on these shelves, but it didn’t make sense to me to keep only the history of the pack in the library of the Alpha’s cabin. An Alpha should be appraised of all history to make sure he (or she, in my case!) followed the laws and ruled to the best of his ability.
The Alpha had the support of his beta, the Elders, and a council to keep him appraised of things, but he needed to be knowledgeable so that he wasn’t constantly asking questions about how his own pack was meant to function. There were things that I knew I needed to study up on, but I wouldn’t find any books here that would help.
My growling stomach urged me away from the disappointment that was the library and down the steps. The scent of vegetables and spiced jerky led me to the kitchen. If the Kings’ communal kitchen was the largest I’d ever seen, and the Wargs’ communal kitchen was the second, then this was a close third. There was an abundance of counter space, fine slate-gray marble laced with mica and other shiny minerals. The stainless-steel fridge was almost the same size as the industrial fridge that was used in the Kings’ kitchen. I doubted that Troy would have had the patience to oversee the construction of this kitchen while he was in charge, so it seemed Gregor—or, more likely, his wife—had invested a lot of time into making this space look perfect.
I hadn’t known there were any houses that had appliances other than ovens and refrigerators. But the Alpha cabin boasted an electric kettle, a microwave, a high-speed blender, and even an espresso machine. There were other appliances, too, but Icouldn’t even guess what their functions were. It all looked brand new, which surprised me. I would have thought that the insanely paranoid Troy would make all of his own meals—then again, I doubted he knew how to cook. If he’d had a member of his pack cook for him, they were probably ordered to keep the place spotless.
It was difficult not to feel small and out of place surrounded by all of this wealth. It occurred to me that I ought to be upset by these things, but mostly I felt overwhelmed by them. My mother and I had been denied so much—and the Wargs, too, enjoyed very few luxuries—yet here was the Alpha of the Kings, living with much, much more than others could afford.
I could only imagine how Night had felt when he walked inside the first time, seeing all of these marvels. I wouldn’t keep it. I couldn’t stomach the guilt. The first chance I could, I’d donate most of these appliances to the kitchen so the pack could benefit from them, too. The espresso machine would be one of the first things to go. Neither I nor Night drank strong coffee, and I doubted either of us had the patience to try and figure out how to use it.
It took a bit of strength to open the fridge, but fortunately, the space was well-stocked with beef, pork chops, chicken, and fresh produce. I knew I wanted to make steak with an omelet that was full of fresh vegetables.
I chose the oldest-looking pans, the only nice stainless-steel skillet with a scratch in the pan, and fixed breakfast for Night and myself. I prepared two NY strip steaks for Night and one for myself. I cooked them to rare, where before I’d preferred them medium at pinkest, and I quickly chopped up some vegetables for the omelet. I hummed under my breath as I cooked, losing myself for a bit in the act of bringing my dishes to life.
When I was done, the only normal plates I found were porcelain and rimmed with gold. I grumbled to myself as I served the steaks and the omelets.
I found just the thing to complete our breakfast on the cast-iron wine rack standing in the corner of the counters. I felt no guilt as I grabbed a bottle of red wine with a name I couldn’t pronounce. After all the shit this family had put me through, I think I was owed a bit of wine.
When I returned to the bedroom, I found Night sitting up with his hands stretched over his head. I had to stop and stare. The way the muscles of his arms and torso shifted under his golden, tanned skin made me weak in the knees. His body was the stuff of legends, the kind of thing that women in the romance novels I loved described as “godlike.” I couldn’t believe that we were both alive, together, and that we’d finally claimed each other.
How could a man like him want me forever?He opened his eyes as the door closed behind me, and smirked. Damn, if I hadn’t been starving, I’d have said forget the food and take me to bed right now.
“You read my mind,” he said, his voice enough to make me shiver. “Did you make steak and eggs?”
“Mm-hm.” I forced myself to move forward, though I could have stood there and stared at him all day. “And wine.”
“You get more and more perfect by the minute, love.”
I blushed and handed him his plate and the wine before crawling into bed with him.
“Did you grab a bottle opener?” he asked.
My eyes widened. “I forgot! I’ll be right back?—”
“Don’t worry about it.” He used his pointer finger and pressed the cork down into the bottle. It slid into the bottle with a slight pop, and floated on top of the wine.
“My hero,” I said as he handed the wine to me for the first sip.
He winked at me.
The wine was light and fruity and a bit sweet. It tasted like something I would have enjoyed eating with chocolate. I handed the bottle back to Night and watched him take a drink. The way his Adam’s apple bobbed, the drop of wine that slipped from the corner of his mouth down the side of his neck toward the mark I had given him…oh no, he made me want to forget breakfast just for another taste of his skin.
When I let my eyes drift back up to his face, I found him watching me, eyes bright with amusement. I quickly looked away, my heart beating fast against my ribcage.
“You have to catch me up,” I said quickly.
