34

"That's nice. Thank you, Sammy." I'm struck by his words. He sounds mature beyond his years, but then I know that losing a parent can either set you back or make you grow up faster.

Then one thing he said catches up to me. "How did you know I'm going to be the Luna?"

"I saw you last night with our Alpha," he says simply.

"Oh, you came to the bonfire! What did you think of it? Did you enjoy the pizza and stories?" I pepper him with questions, wanting honest feedback and I know pups can be brutally honest.

"Yep. Daddy didn't want me to go but I snuck out when he was drinking. The pizza was so good I ate three of them. Is that... is that okay?" he looks up at me with wide eyes, but I don't care how much food he ate. I'm more shocked by his admission of being a rebel at such a young age.

But haven't I done the same—sneak out behind my parents' backs? I'm not proud of my secretive actions.

"You know, if your dad has good reasons for not letting you go somewhere, then you should obey him and do what he says. You're still pretty young to be out doing things and going places by yourself. And I'm sure he just wants to keep you safe."

Sammy looks up at me with a frown and a sad look, but then he shakes it off and fists his tiny hands together. "Yeah, I s'pose." But by the look on his face, I doubt he agrees with me, but I don't push it.

The matter is dropped, and I follow him down the field and across the edge of the town centre, making small talk. I find out he's an only child, always wanted a big brother like some of the other pups have, and doesn't have many friends in the pack. His dad is rarely home because he's one of the top guards, yet I can tell Sammy is proud of him and what he does to protect the pack.

We reach a small faded looking structure, the front porch sagging, one of the front windows boarded up, and old vines trailing over the railing in a riot of messy twists. I swallow and gingerly follow Sammy as he bounds up the steps and pushes through the front door.

The screen swings eerily behind me on perfectly oiled hinges.

"There's not much to look at, but here's the living room. Through there is my bedroom and then daddy's, and this is the kitchen," Sammy quickly gives me the grand tour with a jab of his thumb in the directions of the rooms, before skipping to the sink and getting himself a drink of water.

I try not to let my thoughts show on my face, so I smile. But in reality, my heart clenches at the emptiness of this place, the dust that lays over everything like a thick blanket, and the bare kitchen benches with barely any appliances or even food.

Everything is so neat and sterile, and not homey at all.

Sammy stares at me for a moment before breaking the silence. "I should probably finish my homework. I'm not sure if you want to stay for dinner or you can go, or..."

"Hmm what are you having?" I give him a cheerful grin.

"Dunno. Whatever's in the fridge or maybe Dad will bring something..."

Again, he goes quiet and I try to put my finger on the problem here. I walk to the fridge and find it empty of anything fresh besides fermenting alcohol. The pantry isn't much better, but I manage to find a few things. My mind scrambles for recipes.

"What do you think of sweet potato fritters with tomato salsa?" I hold up some old root vegetables and cans.

His little face lights up. "I'll help you make them!"

We work together for the next half hour, talking about our childhood and what games we like to play. Just as we set the table with chipped crockery, the front door opens and Sammy runs up to his father and jumps in his arms. I stand awkwardly, my best smile ready for this stranger whose house I'm in.

"What are you doing here?" he turns to me, and his dark brown eyes are familiar.

"Daddy, I invited the Luna to eat with us. Mommy would have—"

"I said don't talk about her," the man sets his son down from his arms, his voice gruff and cold as nails.

Sammy mumbles an apology then scoots behind the table, slipping into a seat as his father regards me down his nose, arms crossed over his broad chest.

"Hi, uhh, I'm Ariella. I met your son Sammy while out walking, and we spent the afternoon together then he invited me over here and I helped him make some dinner," I speak all in a rush, eager to get the words out before this fierce warrior bites my head off.

"I know who you are," he states flatly, giving me no clue what he's really thinking behind those dark brown eyes of his as they bore into me. I twist my fingers together, my heart fluttering ridiculously.

"Then let's—"

"Why aren't you home taking care of the Alpha?"

"Excuse me?" I blink, confused by his question.

"Since you're the Luna, why are you here in my house? Don't you have an Alpha to look after?"

It dawns on me what he means. I push aside the acknowledgment that I am Luna, instead hearing the insult behind the words.

"I am your Alpha's mate, yes. I care for him, but I also have a pack to look after. Your son needed help so I offered him my assistance. I didn't know it was a crime here for the Luna to make friends with her pack members."

With my shoulders thrown back, I speak to him with perfect eye contact, rule number one of being taken seriously. I won't just let him push me out after how far I've come. This may be his house, but his son needs more than a surly father's care. He needs a kind Luna to look out for him.

He stares me down for a few moments, and I feel sweat sliding down my back as I dread how this warrior will respond to my defiance.

"I'm more than capable of taking care of my son."

"I never said you weren't. I just wanted to do something nice for him and you. Sammy invited me here, so I helped him make dinner for the both of you."

He looks between me and Sammy, then at the table, then back to me, and I see his shoulders ease in relent.

"Okay. Fine. Just this once. I guess you better sit and join us."

"Of course she's joining us!" Sammy grins and grabs my hand. "It would be rude to tell her to leave now, Daddy."

I can't help the warm smile as I slide into a chair and dish up the food.

His father gives him a hard look, making me wonder if Sammy is again quoting his dead mother. It hurts me that he would be forbidden to speak of her, but it really isn't my place to say anything about it.

"I never caught your name," I say, tilting my head at Sammy's father.

"I'm Jasper," he mutters quietly, taking the offered plate of fritters, and despite his reluctant attitude, I hear it and something clicks in my brain.

"You were with Archie when he challenged me my first afternoon here?"

Jasper chuckles in quiet amusement. "So new girl turned out to be the Alpha pup's mate."

With the confirmation, I nod. "That makes sense," I mumble.

"What does?" Jasper pricks his ears up, instantly tense.

"That you and Archie are friends. Of course you don't want me here, because you hate the young Alpha, so you hate me."

Jasper sighs and runs a hand over his stubbled jaw. "I don't hate you or Malachi. Archie did. He may have been my friend, but we didn't always see eye to eye."

"But... don't all the older warriors despise Malachi out of utter loyalty to his late father who was opposite to him? Don't you all stick by some code of the old ways that Malachi is trying to steer away from?"

Jasper chews thoughtfully before responding. "We all respected Alpha Dennison, but where Archie was devoted to him with ardent loyalty, I submitted to Dennison only because he was our superior. Our Alpha. That's not saying I always supported every decision he made. That old wolf was a madman. It seemed with each passing year, he became more and more insane, especially near the end of his life. I wasn't even sad when he drove his car off a cliff. It was a relief, actually."

I choke on my forkful of sweet potato, but cough and fan my mouth as if the food is too hot.

"I'm sorry. So, if you followed Alpha Dennison out of duty, why not his son also? Why don't you regard him as your Alpha?" There are so many things I want to ask now, especially about Dennison's death and his mental health at the time leading up to it. From what I've heard about how he treated everyone, his mate especially, it makes sense if he was mentally unstable. No one is so cruel on purpose.

At least, that's what I tell myself.

"Malachi is a smart pup, but young. He's not even twenty. We keep doing what we know to do, protect the pack and all that. But until he's older and proven himself, I won't swear my life to him. I need to know I can trust him."

The way he speaks so deadly serious makes me wonder just what Jasper has been through to make him feel this way.

But I nod anyway, though unsure if I truly understand. "And Dennison was untrustworthy, so of course you're critical of his son. I get it. And I can understand there'd be a lot of mixed emotions surrounding the death of the former Alpha. But does Malachi need to keep bearing the weight of that? Why is he faced with such critical expectations from everyone? Why can't the pack grieve and move on together?"

Jasper's eyes hold mine intently. "Don't go thinking you can solve all our problems in one week, missy. Already had one Luna try and do that. Only made the situation worse."

The last words are murmured under his breath and I almost don't catch it.

Almost, but I do. And it only makes me burn with more questions. But before I can ask any, Jasper suddenly slaps the table, making me jump.

"Bedtime for you, Sammy boy. Say goodbye to your friend," he says loudly.

With a sigh, Sammy pushes back his empty plate and tries to give me a grin but I see the groan in his eyes.

"Goodnight, little panther. Dream of kites and trees, won't you?" I ruffle his hair and earn myself a sight of that cute dimple in his cheek.

After he runs off, his father turns to me. "The Alpha is looking for you, and he doesn't sound happy. Hamilton also said you missed training. If I were you, I'd head back home before Malachi comes around and gives me another reason to distrust him."

"I should help with dishes," I stall and wring my hands together, suddenly afraid to face Malachi. I'd spent nearly all the day away from the mansion, never letting anyone know where I was. Not that anyone was around to tell or care, so I thought.

Jasper shakes his head, aware of my evasion tactics, and shows me out the door. I say goodnight, thank him for the company, and hope to myself that he lets me come over and see Sammy again.

Once I reach Malachi's estate, I smell his scent freshly lacing the path, and it is strong and earthy.

I'm barely through the back door when I am roughly pushed against the wall, my shoulder blades slamming into the hard wood panels.

A scream unfurls in my throat, but I squelch it when I recognise Malachi's touch on my skin, his firm body pressing against mine.

"Malachi," I whisper, still in a conflicted mind. Then I tense when I look in his face and see the cold look he's giving me.

His eyes shift between blue to black, and if my pounding heart wasn't messing with my vision, I'd say there are crimson flecks in his irises.

"Where have you been?" he demands in a deep throaty voice that chills the blood to ice in my veins.

The air is heavy with my dread, making it almost too thick to breathe. Especially with my mate's hand squeezing my shoulder, his thumb pressing in under my collarbone. Although it doesn't hurt, I understand his meaning clearly.

"I asked, where have you been?" Malachi growls at me again when I take too long to answer. "And who were you with? I can smell his scent all over you."

An extra wave of fear engulfs me as I look into Malachi's dark eyes, dotted with dancing red embers. I know the type of risk a jealous mate poses to another male, especially if it's a jealous Alpha mate. Their strength can be magnificent when fueled by fiery possession.

I try and tell him he has nothing to worry about though. "It—it was just a boy—"

"Don't lie to me!" Malachi leans into my face and snarls, making me flinch. Squeezing my eyes shut, an involuntary whimper escapes my throat.

Suddenly Malachi steps back from me, leaving a rush of cold air between us.

When I open my eyes, his gaze is to the floor, a frown creasing his forehead.

Then he looks up. "Sorry about that," he says with a smile. All trace of darkness is gone, leaving me to stare into those crystal blue eyes I admire so much.

"What— Excuse me?" I fumble for words, the air rushing from my lungs as I exhale shakily.

"Sorry, I was just practicing my scary face," he says after a moment's hesitation, as if he was debating something in his mind while I stand here, still pressed up against the wall, my heart on lockdown and all my shields up.

"Your scary face," I say it flatly, still having no clue what is going on.

"Yes, for when I'm negotiating with other packs. And for intimidating them," he shrugs his shoulders like it's the most normal situation in the world, and brushes his fringe back with steady fingers. "I'm sorry for scaring you like that. I didn't know you'd take it so seriously."

I look away and take a few deep breaths, not wanting to admit that I was scared of him. My mate. He'd never hurt me, right?

"You know I'd never hurt you, Ariella?"

I snap my eyes to his. It's almost like he read my mind. But with his mark gracing my neck, maybe he does have some stronger connection to me than I realise. I nod and force a smile, my mind brimming with so many questions and not much idea where to start.

When I don't say anything, Malachi grimaces. "Again, I'm sorry," he whispers and takes my hands between his. They are so warm and gentle around my cold ones, and my breath catches in my throat when the sparks tingle up my arms. "Let's, uhh, let's get a drink or something. I was on my way to the kitchen for some food. You want a snack?" he asks in a soft voice, so different to his harsh and throaty growl from before.

I let him lead me down the hall, still trying to figure him out and what just happened, yet feeling reassured by his calm behaviour now. He is always gentle with me, even if distant.

I sink onto a bar stool at the kitchen bench, and observe my mate. He moves fluidly to the freezer and pulls out a container before getting two bowls from the cupboard.

Setting it all in front of me, along with two spoons, he asks, "Do you want some ice cream? You do like salted caramel ice cream, right?"

"Yes of course, seeing as I'm the one who bought it." I reach for the tub and begin scooping some out.

"You bought this? When?"

I look at Malachi, puzzled. "When I went shopping the other day."

"Who with?" His eyes hold mine steadily, a dark shadow creeping out from the irises.

"Beta Knight. He was kind enough to take me." I watch him carefully, the ice cream on my spoon momentarily forgotten.

"And you didn't inform me?" His brows slash together and he frowns at me, a sternness once more lacing his tone.

Again, I am so confused by his behaviour. "Uh, I didn't know I had to. I mean, we needed more food—"

"Harlow could have—"

"Will you forget Harlow!" I slam my hand down, every cell in me reacting to the mention of the blonde shewolf who'd had her hand practically caressing my mate's knee last night by the fire. More than once today it crossed my mind that perhaps Malachi had spent his night absent from me and with her instead. "I live here, I do my own shopping, I can look after the food and what we buy and have for meals. Why all the questions? What on Earth does Harlow have to do with any of this? And why does it matter to you when I go out and when I do things with the other pack members? Why can't I spend time with Beta Knight, and Guard Jasper and his son Sammy? Yes, you smelt a male on me— a little pup who was stuck up a tree who I then helped down and then made some dinner for him because his poor mother is dead and his dad won't let him talk about her. What is wrong with any of that? Tell me what is your problem, and I'll—"

My frustrated ramblings are cut off as Malachi grips my hands and tugs me to him. I fall into his chest and he envelops me in a tight hug.

For a moment we just stand like that, hearts beating against each other, veins throbbing beneath our skin as if even our blood can sense the proximity of its soulmate.

I am calm.

For a moment, this is all I need.

This closeness and understanding with my mate.

No words, no fears or misunderstandings, just him and I in each other's arms.

"The ice cream is melting," Malachi's warm chuckle vibrates between us and he pulls away, leaving me colder than the milky ice crystals in the tub.

We sit down and smile at each other, but I can't ignore the awkward atmosphere that settles over us.

"This is really good," he murmurs, and it's as if he is trying too hard to make this normal, to pretend like nothing just happened.

He is clearly hiding something.

"Mmm, I haven't had ice cream this good since—"

"You're acting strange, you know that? Even for you, and that's saying something, because it seems everyone around here is strange," I blurt out, sick of this, of avoiding the issues between us. Whatever calm was between us is once more gone.

He sucks in a breath and gives me a sharp look. "It's just been a long day, you know?"

"No, I wouldn't know. You ditched me last night, and weren't even around this morning. You didn't come see me all day, so I have no idea what's going on with you or your long day." I finally let out my frustrations. I don't care if my tone of voice is harsh, or if my hands slap the bench top like I'm angry, or if I tug on my hair like I'm turning mad. Maybe I am.

Malachi stands and comes to me, kneeling beside me and taking my hands in his again. The stern expression slides off his face as my words sink in. He looks away and closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're right. I'm sorry for reacting like this." He shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts.

When he looks at me again, his eyes are soft and his gaze languid. "I'm glad you're making friends, and finding your way around here. I'm sorry for leaving you to make your own way. I'm sorry for getting angry with you when none of this is your fault. I'm sorry ... I'm sorry for all these apologies. It seems all I've done tonight is upset you. I don't ... I don't want that." His eyes hold mine in a steady gaze, almost with a look of pleading in them.