Chapter 14 His Type

Chapter 14 His Type
LYRA

No matter how hard I try not to look at Reid’s… whatever she is to him, I can’t help myself. My eyes steal another quick glance at her.

She’s sitting beside him at the dining table wearing only his shirt, acting like this is her house. I watch as she leans toward him, plays with her hair, and flirts openly, not caring that she’s half-dressed. 

Not even caring that Father is seated right beside her.

Unbelievable.

Disgust coils in my stomach. Of all the girls he could pick, this is the one he decides to entertain?

Pathetic.

I force myself to focus on my plate, but then another thought sneaks in. If she’s wearing his shirt… does that mean they actually…

My jaw clenches. I look up again, more carefully this time. Just in time to catch her fingers brushing Reid’s thigh under the table, teasingly. 

Then, she turns back to her food like she didn’t just do that. But she meets my gaze in the process.

She offers me a slow smile, lifting her hand and waving at me.

I whip my head back to my food immediately. A bitter taste rises in my throat. And no, it is not jealousy.

I hate Reid. Why would I ever be jealous?

Though somewhere in the back of my mind, a quiet voice whispers, Liar. I shove it away.

Definitely not jealous.

Father clears his throat from the head of the table. The room falls into a polite silence.

“I apologize for not welcoming you properly into my household due to my busy schedule, Prince Reid,” he says, wiping the corner of his mouth with his napkin. His eyes lock onto Reid. “I hope my daughters have helped you settle in and feel at home.”

Reid glances at me briefly. For a moment, I wonder if he’ll tell Father that I’ve made his life a living hell within just two days of moving in. But thankfully, he isn’t that petty.

“Yes, Lord Magnus,” he says, offering a small, polite smile. “Lyra has been quite helpful.”

I almost snort.

Sure. Helpful.

“That’s good to hear,” Father nods. “During your time here, you’re considered family. That calls for trust, mutual respect, and teamwork. I believe you are capable of upholding our values, Prince Reid.”

Reid nods again. “You can count on me.”

Father offers him a cordial smile, then lets his eyes drift just briefly toward Reid’s girlfriend. Then back to him.

“And part of our values also involves being mindful of the people we welcome into this home,” he says. His expression remains warm, but his tone is serious. I don’t need a translation to know exactly who he’s referring to. “So, going forward, we must all be a bit more selective with the company we bring here. Wouldn’t you agree, Prince Reid?”

Reid holds his gaze with that unreadable calm. “Of course, Lord Magnus. I’ll respect that from now on.”

The rest of dinner carries on in silence. Once everyone leaves the dining room, I stay behind to help the maids clear the table. Old habit. I’ve done this since I was a child.

“It still amazes me how you never grow out of this,” Talia, the head maid, says with a small amused smile as I stack the plates. “Anyone would think you’re serving punishment.”

“Let them think whatever they want.” I reply lightly.

We share a quiet chuckle, but it doesn’t last. My father’s voice cuts through from behind.

“Lyra, may I have a word?”

I spin around immediately.

“I’ll take that.” Talia whispers cautiously, sliding the dishes from my hands. She and the others move toward the kitchen, leaving me alone with him.

“I have news. Good news.” His lips twitch into something close to a smile as he steps closer, arms folded behind his back. I wait. “Your essay from the inter-pack competition… just came in first place.”

“Really?” I answer, forcing enough excitement into my voice and stretching my eyes wide like it matters. It doesn’t. I’ve won enough awards for it to start tasting empty. 

I want something different. Something real. But I can never say that to him, unless I want my head mounted somewhere. Academic validation is the only love language he understands, since I’m wolfless.

“I’m proud of you, Lyra.” His hand rises to smooth my hair, but I feel no warmth. Just the usual cold. “I’m relieved you didn’t turn out like your mother.”

The mention of her freezes me instantly. He banned her name from this house years ago. Once when I was little, I tried to ask the former head maid about mother. He fired her the next day.

So why bring her up now?

He keeps running his hand through my hair, unfazed. “After she abandoned us right after you were born, I worried about you,” he says quietly. “I feared you’d inherit some of her traits. That you would become like her. But you didn’t. And I’m thankful for that. When you’re finally mated to the Alpha’s son and crowned Luna, I’ll be even prouder.”

Sweat beads along my temples. My palms turn damp. Anxiety coils tight in my throat. How do I tell him I ended things with Dean?

“Have a good night, sweetheart.” He places a cold kiss on my forehead, then turns away. I watch him climb the stairs until he disappears completely.

Only then do I breathe.

I lean on the table for support, gulping air, trying to think of any possible way to break the news to him. But my mind’s blank. Eventually, I have to give up and head to my room, hoping I’ll find courage wrapped somewhere in my sheets.

But when I reach the hallway corner, I halt at the sound of voices. I peek around and see Reid and Roxanna talking.

My brows pull together. Since when do those two talk?

“You keep surprising me,” Roxanna says, standing too close to him, looking both intrigued and offended. “No male has ever turned me down. Until you. You’re the first to say I’m not your type. Which makes me wonder…” 

She steps closer, sliding her fingers to his collar like she owns him. She holds his cold stare. “If I’m not your type, then who is?” She scoffs low. “That weird girl you’re screwing?”

I almost choke on my breath. Already throwing herself at him?

A part of me wants to storm over and rip her hand off him. Another part wants to walk away right now and stay far from whatever that is.

I turn to leave, but Reid’s voice stops me.

“Nova’s not my girlfriend. Or my type. And neither are you.”

Roxanna stills. A beat passes. Then, with a bitter edge slicing through her tone, she says,

“Then who is? Lyra?”