Chapter 195 – Morning and Mischief
Eli
Every muscle in my body feels like it’s been individually introduced to pleasure and then sent home with a souvenir bruise.
I stretch in the bed and the noise that escapes me is halfway between a groan and a purr. The only thing that’s not perfect is the fact that Ronan’s side of the bed is empty, but warm.
Typical Alpha. Up before dawn to check patrol rotations, which I’ve started to refer to as ‘brood attractively in the early light while pretending not to worry about everyone.’
I roll over and bite the pillow just to hear the muffled echo of laughter against the fabric, and then decide the world deserves to witness my good mood.
If I’m this happy, it’s criminal that the rest of the pack isn’t. I’ll get out there and spread a little joy. Without Ronan here to keep me company, slash distract me, I may as well go and have breakfast in the mess hall. No point in cooking and dirtying dishes just for myself.
Inside the long hall, breakfast is in full swing. Mara’s at the head of the table, already buried in reports. Hazel sits to her left, hair pulled into a tight braid, sleeves rolled up. Jace is beside her, impassive and maddeningly composed as always.
Perfect. My audience awaits. They could all do with a bit of feather ruffling.
I slide onto the bench opposite them, immediately buttering a slice of bread. Ronan drains every drop of energy from my body with his shenanigans.
“Good morning, shining examples of self-restraint and repression.”
Hazel blinks. “What?”
“You heard me.” I bite into the bread. “Are you two ever going to stop pretending?”
Jace doesn’t even look up from his coffee. “Pretending what?”
As if he doesn’t know. “That you don’t want to jump each other’s bones every chance you get.”
Hazel chokes on her tea. Mara doesn’t look up, but I can see the corner of her mouth twitch.
Jace lifts one brow, calm as ever. “You’re in an even more reckless mood than usual.”
“I’m in an excellent mood,” I correct. “I’m well-fed, well-loved, fucked to within an inch of my life, and fully rehabilitated from months of trauma. It seems only fair that I share the joy.”
Hazel mutters, “By harassing your friends at breakfast?”
“By encouraging the natural order of things,” I correct her with a grin. “Balance, harmony and mutual satisfaction. You know, pack unity.”
Ronan chooses that exact moment to appear. Gods, he’s gorgeous. He sets a hand on my shoulder as he passes, solid and possessive, before sitting beside me with his plate. “What are you doing, Eli?”
“Fixing people’s lives.”
“Translation,” Mara says without looking up, “He’s being insufferable and meddlesome.”
Ronan cuts a glance toward Hazel and Jace, who are both trying very hard to look interested in anything but each other. “Don’t start playing matchmaker,” he warns quietly.
I press a hand to my chest in mock disbelief. “Why on earth not? It would be for a good reason. They’ve been making eyes at each other for months. It’s getting tragic. I’m helping. They’ll be grateful once they’re no longer tied up in knots from the sexual tension.”
“You’re meddling.”
“Semantics,” I say, waving my fork. “You could solve this easily, you know. Use your regular Alpha voice. Just give them a nice firm order to get it over with. Consensually, obviously.”
The silence that follows is thick enough to spread on toast.
Ronan sets his mug down. Slowly and deliberately. “Eli.”
I grin, unfazed. We’re not going to pussy-foot around the subject, he’s already giving it way too much weight. He’d never crumble under the weight of temptation. I have enough confidence in him for both of us.
“It’d be efficient. We’re wolves. Efficiency’s like your favorite word.”
He doesn’t even raise his voice. “If you ever suggest using the Voice for that kind of meddling again, I’ll tan your hide so thoroughly you won’t sit for a week.”
“Promises, promises,” I mutter, but my grin slips a smidge when I meet his eyes. They’re not angry, just the sort of calm that means I’m skating on the thinnest ice imaginable.
Across the table, Hazel looks both horrified and fascinated. Jace looks like he’s praying to disappear. Mara, bless her, is pretending to read the same paragraph for the fifth time.
I clear my throat. “I was kidding.”
“No,” Ronan says evenly, “You weren’t.”
He picks up his mug again, utterly unruffled, and that somehow feels worse than if he’d shouted. His composure always makes me want to wreck it.
“Fine,” I say, sulking just enough to make it obvious. “No Voice.”
Ronan arches an eyebrow. “You’ll stay out of it?”
“That seems unreasonable.’”
“Eli.”
“Alright, alright,” I sigh dramatically, tearing off another piece of bread. “I’ll behave.”
Hazel mutters, “Unlikely.”
Ronan’s gaze flicks to her. “You can hit him if he starts again, I won’t be upset.”
He’s such a fucking liar. He’d have to fight every instinct he has not to run over to protect me. But I’ll let him have his little illusion.
Hazel brightens instantly. “Gladly.”
Jace just shakes his head. “This is my life now.”
I grin at both of them. “You’re welcome.”
Breakfast continues, mostly normal except for my occasional muttered commentary about “tragic romantic repression” and “potential pack morale issues.” Ronan ignores me with the patience of a saint, though every so often his hand finds my thigh under the table in silent warning that’s much more of a silent promise.
When the plates are cleared, Mara gathers her papers and heads out, telling me that she has actual work to be getting on with. No idea why I was singled out for that little jab.
Hazel follows soon after, but not before giving me a look that promises retaliation. Jace lingers long enough for Hazel to leave the hall, then inclines his head politely and escapes.
Once the table is empty except for me and Ronan, I lean back in my chair, smug and satisfied. “That was a productive morning.”
Ronan doesn’t even look up from the reports Mara left him. “You’re a source of incredible aggravation.”
“Correction. I’m a visionary.”
“You’re lucky I find your brand of chaos endearing.”
I grin, leaning across the table until my nose brushes his jaw. “You love my chaos.”
He huffs, a sound that could be either amusement or exasperation. “Careful. You’re still sore.”
“I’m aware,” I say, letting my voice drop. “I like being sore. It’s proof you actually did your job properly for a change.”
He looks up then, eyes narrowing in that way that makes the air feel electric. “Eli.”
“Yes, Alpha?” I blink at him innocently, making sure my eyes are wide and endearing.
He studies me for a long beat, like he’s trying to decide if I’m worth the trouble of whatever punishment he’s thinking about. Finally, he sighs. “You’re impossible.”
“Just the way you like it.”
He shakes his head and starts sorting through the stack of papers in front of him, all official seals and ribbons.
I watch him for a moment, fascinated despite myself. The precision of him, the focus. The way his eyes narrow when he’s reading. I could sit here all day and just watch the man exist.
Eventually he notices. “What?”
“Nothing. Just admiring the view.”
“Eli.”
“Yes, Alpha?”
“Stop staring.”
“Can’t. It’s a condition.”
He sets down the papers and stands, the motion fluid and far too deliberate. “You know,” he says, voice low, “You’re awfully mouthy for someone who was just warned about consequences.”
I grin up at him. “You think threats work on me? That’s adorable.”
He steps close enough that the heat of him rolls across my skin. “No. But reminders do.”
I tilt my head back, pulse jumping. “Then maybe you should remind me later.”
His breath hitches. A soft sound, dangerous in its restraint. “Keep pushing, and I will.”
I grin wider, feeling victorious. “Excellent news.”
He sighs, but there’s laughter under it. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I’m happy,” I say simply. “You should try it.”
“I was happy. Until you started matchmaking before coffee.”
He leans in close enough that I can feel the movement of his lips near my ear. “If you ever suggest I use my Alpha Voice for mischief again, I swear-”
“You’ll tan my hide. Yes, yes, I know.” I sit back with a grin. “You really should find better threats, Alpha.”
He straightens, giving me a look that promises the conversation isn’t over. “I don’t need better threats. I need stronger follow-through.”
My grin falters for half a second before returning twice as bright. “Noted.”
He laughs softly, shaking his head, and pulls me to my feet. “Come on. You’re going to help me check the perimeter and work out new patrol rosters.”
“That’s not punishment,” I point out.
“It will be by the time I’m done with you.”
I follow him outside, still grinning. The cold air bites my cheeks, but I barely notice. Around us, the pack hums with purpose. The world feels alive again, and so do I.
If happiness were a scent, it would be this. Woodsmoke, frost, and Ronan’s warmth at my side.
He glances down at me as we walk. “You’re still scheming.”
“Me? Never.”
“Eli.”
“Alright, maybe a little.”
“Leave Hazel and Jace alone.”
“Yes, Ronan. Of course.”
He gives me the look that says he knows I’m lying. I give him the smile that says I don’t care.
I’ve survived wars, breeding pens, and being caught and marked by Ronan Vale. A little matchmaking won’t kill me.
Probably.