Cold-Blooded Alpha by Eve Bale
Chapter Eight
After Dayne examined the coffee I made, he thrust the pot at Luka and demanded he make a fresh one.
Everyone carefully avoided looking in my direction when he did it, but it wasn't hard for me to guess the direction of their thoughts: Talis, not only is she a terrible cook, she's an even worse coffee-maker, so much so, one glance at the coffee pot is enough for their alpha to know not to even bother tasting it first.
"So, Talis. Will you be running with us tonight?" Luka asks me once he's made a fresh pot of coffee and joined us at the twelve-seater oak dining table in the light and airy kitchen. In the frenzy of this morning, I’ve noted that the cabinets are made of the same wood as the bedroom.
I tear my gaze from my slice of blueberry pie to glance at him. Not much of it has made its way into my mouth since I'm so hyper-aware of how close Dayne's black t-shirt covered arm is to brushing against mine as he sits beside me at the dining table. But what little I've tasted is enough to convince me whoever the baker at the diner is, they're truly talented.
It's the best pie I've ever tasted in my life, which, considering the person who did the cooking in my old pack, Keith, was for a short time a pastry chef at one of the best restaurants in the city, is saying something.
"Running tonight?" I repeat unnecessarily. Anything to buy me some time to think about what I'm about to say.
I'd expected this to come up eventually, but I hoped I'd have had a little more time before talking about it.
"Yes," Luka says, on his fourth slice of pie.
I shrug and look away, focusing on the food spread out in front of me.
It didn't take long for everyone to shift the bowls of mostly inedible breakfast to the butcher's block island in the center of the kitchen to make space for the pies, pastries, and muffins they picked up from the diner. Which explains why Dayne had to go now.
Although it was on the tip of my tongue to argue the toast was okay, once I got a look at the expression on the pack’s faces, I realized they thought differently. Relief, if I had to guess, that they didn't have to eat it. So, I snapped my mouth shut and resolutely stayed silent.
Not that there's anything wrong with a few burnt edges, it's easy enough to brush them off.
They must not all live in the farmhouse then, for none of them to have been at the house already. Although my nose told me there were other shifters in the house after Dayne left to go into town, which explains his lack of worry I'd try to run again, I haven't been around the pack long enough to identify them by scent yet.
Since the blonde woman he was talking with outside on the porch—the woman who triggered my need to run—isn't around the breakfast table, I can't help but imagine that Dayne's reason for heading to town has to do with her.
Maybe he was taking her home or something?
But whatever the reason, I'm just glad she isn't here.
Last night, after Dayne ordered me back to the house, I didn't see any of the pack, though I heard low muffled voices coming from the den.
No doubt because they were trying to avoid attracting their alpha's attention after I'd pissed him off by forcing him to go after his new mate in the torrential rain. So, it didn't surprise me in the least when no one came out as I passed the closed door, dripping water and mud all over the floor.
I'd guess maybe half of them lived at the farmhouse, which was how it was in my old pack after Jenna pointed out several closed bedroom doors on our way up to Dayne's room.
There were six she said altogether, though there were a few cabins out in the forest that were pretty basic which some of the pack liked to stay in when they wanted more privacy, or if they didn't want to make the drive back into town.
"I don't shift," I finally say softly, keeping my gaze on the mess my fork is making of the pie on my white plate. A blueberry war has been fought there.
"I'm sorry." It's Luka again, sounding confused. "I didn't know you were latent, I'm sorry if it's made you uncomfortable."
He means it. Listening to the genuine apology in his voice makes me raise my head despite my intention to say what I need to say, and find an excuse to leave before anyone pushes for any details. But the beta's kindness—Luka's response—makes me forget that in an instant.
Kindness.
Genuine kindness is so rare that I don't know how to react to it. So, I just blink at him for a second, not sure what to do with it, as a part of me waits for him to twist it around or use it to hurt me. I'm far too used to someone saying something nice, being friendly as a way to soften me up first.
Mostly, it was the guys in my old pack who treated me like that. Flirting with me, calling me pretty, telling me the things I was desperate to believe were true, like I was beautiful, but then seconds later, making me aware their words had a price. One far higher than I was prepared to pay, and when I refused, they took great pleasure in crushing me with their cruel words.
"Talis isn't latent." Dayne's voice is a low growl, and I immediately drop my fork in surprise since he's said nothing since he demanded Luka make the coffee.
"No, I'm not latent," I admit.
It's easier when I'm just talking to Luka. He has kind eyes. I think that must be why.
"But you don't shift?" It's another of the pack. Miller, I think, is his name. They introduced themselves to me when I first got here, and again earlier in the kitchen, but there are so many of them, and both times I've been under extreme stress that it's hard to keep track of everyone's names.
Another strike against me. I'm supposed to be Luna of the pack—the female alpha, and I don't even know everyone in my pack's name. Shaking my head, I pick up my fork before going back to rolling a blueberry around my plate.
"No. I don't shift."
"Since your parents were killed?" Jenna asks, her voice low, sweet.
Although I don't look up from my plate, it isn't hard to picture her wide blue eyes are soft with sympathy as she twirls a lock of her strawberry-blonde hair around her finger as I've seen her do it before.
I'm not surprised they've heard about my family. It isn't often hunters kill a mated pair the way my parents were, so the news would have spread amongst most, if not all, the packs in the states. Mainly to serve as a warning to never let your guard down, not even for a second.
Again, I shake my head. "No. It's not as long ago as that."
I could lie. It would be easier to come up with a story about why I can't shift and then I know they wouldn't push for answers I'm not prepared to give, but I can't do that.
Mainly, it's me not being sure about what Uncle Glynn has told Dayne about my history, and the other part is knowing if I lied, he would know.
Then there's the small matter of risking sparking his curiosity. The last thing I want is to do anything, say anything, to make Dayne curious about why I don't shift.
"I don't get it, then why—" One of the pack, I don't see who, doesn't sound like they're going to drop it.
Since Dayne is silent beside me, I guess he's as interested in the answer as the pack member asking the question; I decide I need to cut this off quick before this conversation ends up going where I don't need or want it to go.
"—Trauma," I interrupt, reasoning my answer is close enough to the truth to hide my lie, "I—I had a traumatic experience."
It's dangerous. I know someone is going to tell me how dangerous it is to not shift. It causes an imbalance, and sooner, rather than later, consequences will follow.
Consequences like fighting back an enraged wolf eager to burst free and do untold damage to everyone around her.
So, when someone stirs from the end of the table, I shake my head.
"It's to do with my parents. I can't talk about it."
Yes, I'm not above using the death of my parents to hide secrets I'd rather not share. With anyone, least of all, Dayne fucking Blackshaw.
* * *
I wait for the pack to be done with their run, my arms wrapped around my knees, and meet me by the small lake in a clearing a few short miles from the farmhouse.
After breakfast, I'd hoped to sneak away somewhere quiet and be alone for a while, even if it goes against the natural shifter tendency to want to be around others.
I've spent so much of my life alone now, it's hard to seek out others when every time I have in the past has resulted in someone trying—and usually succeeding—in hurting me.
The huge clawfoot bath in the master bathroom has been calling my name since I saw it, and the idea of soaking for an hour or two sounded like heaven. Until Dayne put a stop to it, that is. He had other ideas about how I should spend my time.
Namely, cleaning up the mess I'd made of the kitchen. Alone. Because apparently there was something he needed to discuss with the pack so none of them could help me, even though more than a few offered.
Which is how I found myself spending the better part of two hours scrubbing grease from the walls, doing dishes, and cleaning the floor. But since I'm well used to that particular chore, it at least went a lot better than the cooking did.
And the pack cast me pitying looks before they left, so that's a bonus. If the only person being a dick to me is Dayne, I can still count myself lucky.
Even if, as the Luna, I'm excluded from pack meetings, I try to convince myself that it is because my time is better spent on cleaning the kitchen.
It didn't help my mood when I heard laughter and joking coming from the basement where Dayne was holding this pack meeting. The meeting so important it sounds like there's a party going on down there.
But it didn't go on too long, and, as I scrubbed, all I could focus on was the bath I had to look forward to once I got done cleaning.
Once again, Dayne had other ideas, such as my being shown around the farmhouse by Jenna and a couple of the other pack members. With a focus on where they kept the cleaning materials, Dayne told them, before he disappeared into the office with Luka.
Lucky? Was I really counting myself lucky earlier?
* * *
Now, as the pack run, something they've been doing for a couple of hours at least, I'm alone for the first time all day. I haven't spent this much time around people in years.
While it wasn't terrible, it felt strange when I'm so used to being alone.
But some of it was good. Like at lunch with Regan, a girl around my age who took the time to show me around the kitchen.
Together, we made a taco casserole and salad for lunch, and I didn't hate every second of it. She even made me laugh a couple of times.
I'm considering how I feel about the prospect of all my days being like this: Dayne going off with his beta and leaving me to cook and clean all day while the rest of the pack hang out in the den, when a soft chuff warns me that I'm no longer alone.
A pair of silver eyes stare at me from the edge of the forest, and I recognize the wolf almost straight away. It's the wolf that confronted me in the forest. Luka. The lean muscled, dark brown wolf is the beta.
Warily, I lower my feet to the ground from where I'm sat with my back against a tree.
"Hello," I call out, as my heart beats faster at his approach.
Should I stand? Prepare to run? Is this going to be another thing other than cleaning I thought I'd left behind at my Uncle's pack?
Once or twice a week, I would wake in the middle of the night to Uncle dragging me from my bed. I'd have a five-minute head start, and if I didn't make use of those five minutes…
I still have nightmares about when the pack would chase me, and inevitably they would catch me. Four legs are always going to be faster than two.
I peer into the forest, trying to see where the rest of the pack are. But there's no one else, only Luka has returned so far. I'd heard them, of course, running, chasing each other, howling, and sounding like they were having fun.
While I'm distracted, searching out the darkness for the others, Luka has inched closer to me. And seeing how much closer makes my fear spike.
Tilting his head to the side, he stops and examines me questioningly, as if confused by the scent of my fear. Since he's doing nothing but walking toward me, I fully understand why he's eyeing me as if I'm crazy.
"Is everyone still running?" I ask, injecting my voice with false cheer, pretending we both can't smell my fear.
Obviously, he can't respond. Verbally, at least. Instead, his mouth opens in a wolfy grin and he wags his tail.
Even as a wolf, he's easing my fear.
My fear bleeds away, and I wonder if that's just the way he is, or maybe it's because he's a beta, used to calming and steadying an alpha. Though, with an alpha like Dayne, I can't imagine he has an easy job of it.
At Luka's slow approach and the continued absence of the rest of the pack, I remain sitting on the ground, my legs stretched out in front of me.
He's still wagging his tail happily, still grinning wide in a smile that says he's happy to see me, going so far out of his way to be the opposite of threatening that bit by bit, my fear recedes and replaced instead by gratitude.
Why couldn't he have been my mate? Someone as uncomplicated, as kind as Luka would make every day easy.
When he reaches me, he pauses, sitting back on his haunches as he half-turns to the lake. This is where I'm going to spend a lot of my time, I decide, since I love being around water and it feels peaceful here. It's easy to envision the pack leaping in and shrieking with laughter on a hot day to cool off.
Luka glances at me and shifts a little closer, then stops. And does it again. He keeps on doing it until I realize what he wants.
Warily, I reach a hand out to his shoulder, and after drawing in a deep breath, I bury my fingers in his fur.
It's warm and thick. He will keep this winter coat since we're still in Fall and the nights are about to get colder as winter settles in.
When I do nothing more than hold on to his fur, with no warning whatsoever, Luka licks the side of my face with a rough, wet tongue.
It's so surprising, I can't stop myself from spluttering and giggling, even as I reach up my other hand to swipe at the wetness on my face. "You crazy wolf, why would—"
I feel him before I see him.
Dropping my hand from Luka, I shoot to my feet, turning my gaze to the much larger form of a wolf standing at the mouth of the forest. Staring at me. It takes me less than a second to work out who it is.
Dayne.
