Chapter 25 25
Then, to my utter shock, my mother set her pen down and said, “Okay.”
Sheila’s smile became real for a split second before she controlled it. “Really?”
“Even though I had planned to have Arielle on lockdown for a couple of weeks,” Mother continued, her gaze resting on me, “I’ll make an exception. For you, Sheila. I know you’ll be responsible.”
The sting was subtle but precise. She believed Sheila. Trusted her. Not me.
“Aw, thank you so much, Luna Serena! You’re the best!” Sheila cooed, and before my mother could change her mind, she darted out of the office, grabbing my arm and pulling me down the hall at a speed walk.
Once we were around the corner, Sheila let out a huge, silent whoosh of air and shot me a triumphant, giddy look.
I just felt hollow. My escape hinged on my mother’s faith in my friend, not in me.
“Told you!” Sheila gloated as we hurried out of the packhouse and toward her beat-up little car. “A little charm goes a long way.”
Inside the car, she started it up and then gave me a once-over that quickly turned into a grimace. “Okay, wait. Is that what you’re wearing?”
I looked down at myself. A simple, dark blue dress that stopped above my knees, a lightweight denim jacket over it, and my usual boots. It was clean. It was fine.
“It’s good,” I said, buckling my seatbelt.
“Gosh, no, it’s not,” she said, pulling out of the driveway. “Look at your hair! You didn’t even give it any life. And you’re not wearing a lick of makeup. Not even lip gloss!”
I looked at her reflection in the rearview mirror. She was in a cute skirt and top, her curls artfully tousled, a subtle shimmer on her eyelids.
“Well,” I said, turning to stare out the window at the passing trees. “I’m not going to see anyone special.”
“Take that back right now,” she ordered, shaking a finger at me. “You’re not just having dinner with Mandy. You’re having dinner with an Alpha. A hot, powerful, allegedly ageless Alpha. You need to look the part!”
“An Alpha, yes,” I repeated flatly, the memory of his cold eyes in the foyer making my skin prickle. “Who’s a weirdo. An irky, unpredictable weirdo who probably thinks I’m an idiot.”
Sheila rolled her eyes, a clear sign she’d given up. She focused on the road, muttering something about wasted opportunities and the importance of first impressions—or in my case, second impressions.
I just kept staring out the window, my stomach churning with a dread that had nothing to do with Logan and everything to do with the dinner waiting for me.
I looked at her again, needing a distraction from the knot of anxiety in my stomach. “So, where are you and James going, anyway?”
She grinned, her eyes lighting up. “We haven’t really gone out, just the two of us, since we all graduated. He’s been bugging me about it. We need some proper, boring, couple-y time alone. No pack politics, no training, just… normal.”
I pondered that for a second as she navigated the winding road out of our territory. A question that had been simmering in the back of my mind since she started seeing James bubbled up.
“Aren’t you bothered,” I asked carefully, “that he’s not your fated mate? I mean… what happens if he finds his? He’ll likely end things with you, right?”
She gave me an incredulous look, like I’d just suggested the moon was made of cheese. “You think he’ll end things with me?”
Then I remembered and said it aloud before she could. “Oh. Right. James is… like me.”
She nodded, her expression turning smug. “Correct. Not totally since he's got his wolf.” That wasn't a statement to upset me. "He’s human-blessed, or whatever nice term they’re using this week. So no fated mate drama for him. He’s so in love with me it’s almost pathetic,” she said, but there was a fondness in her voice. “And I’m just… going with the flow. Having fun. Until I find my own fated mate, whenever the moon decides to get its act together.”
As she said it, she took a crazy, sharp turn onto the main highway, cutting off a slow-moving sedan. The driver laid on his horn, a long, angry blare.
Sheila just rolled down her window, stuck her middle finger out with a cheerful smile, and sped up.
I couldn’t help but laugh. Sheila was such a joker, such an unapologetic player in a world that took itself so seriously.
“Drive carefully, will you?” I said, still grinning. “People will think you’re drunk.”
“Really?” she said, feigning shock. “Well, we’re from Fang Storm Pack, remember? I don’t think we fear anything.” She winked at me, a reckless glint in her eye, and then turned the radio up.
A thumping bassline filled the car. She started dancing in her seat, shaking her shoulders and tossing her shoulder-length, bang-framed brown curls. “Come on, Ari! Loosen up! You’re about to have dinner with a legend!”
I shook my head, smiling despite myself, and just watched the world blur past the window, letting the loud music drown out my thoughts for a few precious minutes.
\---
Moments later, she pulled up to the imposing, modern gates of the Dead Moon Pack.
“Okay, bestie,” she said, the music cutting off abruptly. “You message me the second you’re leaving. No wandering off. I’ll be here in ten minutes flat.”
“I will,” I promised, unbuckling my seatbelt. “Have fun with James.”
“Oh, I plan to!” she sang, and with a final wave, she drove off, leaving me standing alone in the gathering dusk.
I watched her taillights disappear, then turned to face the packhouse. It wasn’t far from the entrance, a sleek, angular structure of dark glass and pale stone that now looked more like a corporate headquarters than a home. I walked the short path, my boots crunching on the gravel, my heart starting to pick up its pace again.
I stopped before the main gates. They were intricate wrought iron, but they swung open silently and automatically as I approached, as if I were expected. The guards posted on either side didn’t move to stop me or ask questions. They just gave me a curt, respectful nod. It was unnerving, this seamless allowance, like I somehow belonged here.
I stepped into the house, and the first thing that hit me was the smell. Not the sterile, lemon-clean scent from yesterday, but the rich, warm, incredible aroma of roasting meat, herbs, and something sweet baking. My stomach growled traitorously.
I stood in the grand foyer, expecting Mandy to come bouncing around a corner any second. I’d texted her that I was almost there.
But she didn’t appear.
Instead, my eyes were drawn to the living room, through the wide archway.
He was there.
Alpha Aeson.