Chapter 15 Moving In
The penthouse felt like a museum.
I stood in the guest bedroom with my duffel bag at my feet, afraid to touch anything. The bed was massive, covered in white sheets that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. Everything gleamed. The floors, the windows, even the air smelled expensive.
My reflection stared back at me. I looked small. Out of place.
“You can rearrange anything you want.”
I jumped. Lycian stood in the doorway, not coming in.
“It’s your room now. Make it yours.”
“For three days. Until the pack meeting.”
“You’re staying longer than three days.”
“We don’t know that.”
“I do.”
I crouched and unzipped my duffel bag. Everything I owned fit inside. Three shirts. Two pairs of jeans. Cheap underwear. A borrowed sweater. A laptop held together with duct tape.
I opened the dresser drawer slowly. Inside was fancy lined paper that smelled like lavender.
Who the hell lines their drawers? Rich people.
I set my shirt inside. It looked ridiculous.
“I know this is weird,” Lycian said behind me.
“Weird doesn’t even cover it.”
“Yesterday I was in a dorm,” I said. “Today I’m in a penthouse.”
“You don’t have to worry about money anymore.”
“That’s not the point. I don’t belong here.”
“You belong with me.”
I wanted to believe him. But twenty-one years of not belonging do not disappear overnight.
I grabbed my toiletries and went to the bathroom. It was bigger than my dorm room. Marble counters. Towels that looked fake.
I set my drugstore shampoo on the counter. It looked like trash.
My phone buzzed. I called Aunt Clara.
“Baby? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Better. My treatment is paid for. All of it.” Her voice shook. “Elowen, did you do something?”
My chest hurt. “It’s complicated.”
So I told her. Not everything. Just that I’d met someone. That he was helping. That I was staying with him for a while.
The silence on the other end lasted too long.
“Aunt Clara?”
“You like this boy?”
I thought about Lycian. About the way he looked at me. The way he’d stood up to his father. The way he’d paid for her treatment without asking for anything in return.
“I think so. Maybe. I don’t know yet.”
“But he’s treating you right?”
“Yeah. He is.”
“Then that’s all that matters.” She coughed. That wet, rattling sound made my stomach hurt. “Just be careful, okay? Rich boys and poor girls. That story doesn’t always end well.”
“I know.”
“But sometimes it does. And you deserve a sometimes.” Her voice softened. “You deserve everything, baby. Don’t let anyone make you feel like you don’t.”
Tears burned behind my eyes. “I love you.”
“Love you too. Now go eat something. You sound hungry.”
She hung up before I could argue that she was the one who needed to eat more.
I sat there for a while. Just breathing. Staring at my reflection in the mirror above the sink.
I looked tired. Dark circles under my eyes. Hair a mess. Still wearing yesterday’s clothes because I hadn’t had time to shower.
I looked exactly what I was. A broke college student drowning in debt and desperation.
What was I doing here?
My phone buzzed again. A text from Tessa.
WHERE ARE YOU??? You didn’t come back last night and you’re not answering my calls.
Guilt twisted in my gut. I’d been so caught up in pack drama that I’d forgotten to tell my actual roommate I wasn’t coming back.
I’m fine. Staying somewhere else for a few days. Long story.
Her response was immediate.
With HIM?!?!
The three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Okay, I need details. Coffee Saturday?
I started to type “yes” then stopped. Saturday was the pack meeting. The vote that would decide if I got to stay or had to leave. If I even survived.
Can’t Saturday?
Fine but you better not ghost me again. I’m your friend, remember?
The words hit harder than they should have. Because she was right. I’d been a terrible friend. Too focused on survival. On Lycian. On wolves and politics and everything else.
I won’t. Promise.
I set my phone on the counter. Finished unpacking my sad little toiletries bag. It took maybe two minutes. Then I just stood there looking at the empty counter space. At the shower that probably had better water pressure than my entire dorm building. At the towels, I was afraid to use them because they were too nice.
This wasn’t my life.
But apparently it was now.
My stomach growled. Loud enough to echo off the marble.
I left the bathroom. Found my way back to the kitchen. It was all stainless steel and granite. The kind of kitchen you saw in magazines. The kind where everything looked too nice to actually use.
I opened the fridge carefully. Like something might break.
It was packed. Fresh vegetables still in their fancy grocery store packaging. Cheese that probably had names I couldn’t pronounce. Steaks that probably cost fifty dollars each. Organic yogurt. Almond milk. Stuff I’d only seen in the expensive section of the grocery store. The section I walked past without looking because I couldn’t afford anything in it.
I grabbed an organic greek yogurt and blueberries.
“There’s real food if you want it.”
I spun around. Lycian had appeared from somewhere down the hall. He’d changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt. Normal clothes that somehow made him look more dangerous. Less controlled. More wolf.
“Yogurt’s fine.”
“Elowen.”
“What?”
“You’re allowed to be comfortable here. You’re allowed to eat actual food.”
“This is actual food.”
He crossed the kitchen in three strides. Took the yogurt from my hand. Set it on the counter. Then opened the freezer and pulled out a glass container.
“I made lasagna yesterday. Before everything exploded.” He put it in the microwave. Set the timer. “My mom’s recipe. It’s good, I promise.”
“You cook?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?”
“Because you’re you.
Rich wolves don’t cook.”
“This rich wolf does.” The microwave beeped. He pulled out the container and the smell hit me. Garlic and cheese and tomato sauce and herbs I couldn’t name. My stomach growled again, louder this time. “See? Your body knows what it wants.”
He got plates from a cabinet that probably cost more than my car. Served me a piece twice the size of what I would have taken. We sat at the kitchen island because the dining table felt too formal. Too much like we were strangers.
I took the first bite and almost cried.
It was perfect. Rich and warm and exactly what I needed. Like a hug in food form.
“Good?” he asked.
I nodded. Didn’t trust my voice.
We ate in silence. Not awkward. Just quiet. The city lights sparkled through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Somewhere below us, normal people were living normal lives. Going to normal jobs. Dealing with normal problems.
Not pack politics. Not mate bonds. Not ancient conspiracies.
Not wondering if they’d survive the week.
“What are you thinking?” Lycian asked.
“Three days ago my biggest problem was affording groceries. Now I’m living in a penthouse with a wolf who thinks I’m his mate while his pack decides if I’m worth keeping alive.”
“They’re not deciding if you’re worth keeping alive.”
“Aren’t they? That’s what pack votes do, right? Decide if someone belongs or if they’re a threat.”
He set down his fork. “You’re not a threat.”
“Tell that to Marcus. And Madison. And your father. And probably half your pack.”
“They’ll change their minds when they meet you.”
“Why would they? I’m exactly what they think I am. Poor. Wolfless. Not from their world.” I pushed my plate away. “I spilled champagne on you. That’s it.”
“You’re also smart. Strong. Brave enough to stand up to an Alpha,” he said. “They’ll see that. I’ll make sure they see that.”
I wanted to believe him. But I’d spent my whole life being invisible. The scholarship girl. Not enough.
One mate bond wasn’t going to erase that.
“I should sleep,” I said. “It’s late.”
“Yeah. Okay.” He stood. Started clearing the plates. His movements were controlled. Careful. Like he was holding something back. “I’m down the hall if you need anything. Last door on the left.”
“Thanks.”
I headed toward my room. Made it three steps before his voice stopped me.
“Elowen?”
I turned.
“We’re going to win this. Saturday. The pack vote. All of it.” His voice was certain. Absolute. Like he could make it true just by believing it. “I’m not losing you.”
The words settled in my chest, heavy and terrifying.
I went to bed in a room bigger than my dorm, in sheets softer than anything I’d known, staring at the ceiling and wondering if I’d wake up and find it was all a dream.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Enjoy your fancy new life while it lasts. Saturday is coming.
Marcus.
I turned off the phone and pulled the covers over my head. They smelled like lavender and money.
Three days until everything changed.
Three days to prove I was worth keeping.
Three days to figure out if this thing between us was real.
I closed my eyes, but all I could think was Saturday is coming.
And I was terrified.