Page 16 of The Alpha's Temptation
“It smells good,” I compliment.
“Everything is ready.Take a seat.”
I sit across from her, and we both dig in.
Dinner with Penny is a practice in pretending I’m not someone else’s gravity.She sits across from me at the worn kitchen table, spaghetti between us like a cartoon of the family we used to be.Her hair is in a messy knot on top of her head, and tension brackets her mouth.
“I made too much,” she says, avoiding my gaze.
I pretend everything is okay, like the discovery of my mate and the upcoming full moon hasn’t affected my appetite.“We’ll eat it.”
My voice is even.I am proud of it.My wolf is not.He paces, tail swishing.
We go through the motions of eating.I twirl noodles I don’t taste.Penny picks at garlic bread and stares at something over my shoulder that only she can see.The house is full of ghosts: our parents’ voices in the hall, last night’s fight, the birthdays stacked like rings in a tree.I want to say I’m sorry for all of it, even the parts I didn’t cause.
“How was work?”she asks finally.
“Busy.You?”
She huffs a breath.“I reorganized the spice drawer.”
“Riveting.”
“Shut up.”
We lapse into uncomfortable silence.I watch her, seeing the way she’s building a wall brick by brick, not to keep me out, but to make a safe room to cry in.I can’t knock it down.I can only sit outside and wait.
“I’ll be out late tomorrow,” I say, my tone neutral.“Border runs.Keeping the younger wolves…occupied.”
“Right.”Her mouth wobbles slightly.“Keep them from doing something stupid.”
I smile without teeth.“Yeah.”
She puts her fork down.When she looks at me, I see my sister, the one who threw a punch at a girl who made fun of my hand-me-down jacket in seventh grade; the one who still leaves a nightlight on for nightmares.“I’m still upset,” she says simply.“I don’t know how not to be yet.”
“I know.”I fold my hands so she won’t see them shake.“I’ll be here when you do.”
“What if I never do?”
I swallow.“It’s okay.It will be okay.”
Something in her breaks at that, some brittle thing.Her eyes go shiny, and she looks away.“I hate this.”
“Me too.”
She stands abruptly, scraping her chair back.“I’m going to bed.”
“Night, Pen.”
She pauses in the doorway, as if the house is holding her there.“Night.”She doesn’t sayI love you.But she didn’t say nothing.
I clean the dishes because motion is mercy.Hot water, the squeak of a sponge, the small, human acts that keep my feral instincts in check.When the counters are bare and the kitchen looks like itself again, I climb the stairs to my room.
The moonlight coming through my window is brighter than it should be a night early.That’s how close we are.I stand there for a minute, looking out at the dark line of the trees and the silvery river.I feel the hum of the Pack in my bones.And I feelher, a brighter thread braided through the rest.
Leave,I tell myself.Just for a night.Put distance between want and ruin.
Stay, my wolf snarls.Guard.Claim.Ours.
