Page 2 of Mates: Posy

"Get up, Posy."

Beta Roy.

Father only ever called me runt, and I hadn’t seen the boys in months. After they’d moved out three years ago, they rarely came around, and certainly never to seeme.

Beta Roy wasn’t as bad as Father, but was unpredictable. Kind one moment and cruel the next.

I scrambled to my feet, careful to keep my head down and my bruised, swollen face hidden in the curtains of my grimy hair.

"Guests are coming. Alpha wants brunch ready in an hour. Five visitors, myself, Gamma Alex, and alpha, but make enough for ten in case your brothers come. I’ll set the table. You just worry about the food."

His offer was a godsend. Even if it was only for the moment, I’d take it. I needed all the help I could get after my midnight beating.

The ribs on my right side were badly bruised, and I suspected at least one was broken. Something was wrong with my head, too. It ached terribly, and the sunlight streaming in from the windows stabbed my eyes like toothpicks. On top of that, my shirt stuck to the raw wounds on my back. I hoped that none of them opened too much as I worked. There was nothing worse than a blood-soaked waistband to gall your skin.

I followed Beta Roy into the kitchen, washed my hands, and got right to work. Since it was brunch, I knew Father would want both sweet and savory items. I decided to start with fruit and cheese plates. I could get everything cut up and plated, then into the fridge while I worked on the rest.

As I sliced a block of cheddar, I tried to think of what else to make, but my brain wasn’t up to the task. I could barely focus on the cutting board and knife in front of me.

Get these made first,I told myself.If you don’t cut off any fingers, we’ll go from there.

It wasn’t easy, but I did it. Covering the plates in plastic wrap, I stuck them in the fridge.

A glance at the clock showed me I was down to thirty minutes. Did it really take that long to cut up fruit and cheese?

Frantic now, I rummaged in the fridge and found three packs of bacon. I could bake it in the ovens, which would free me up to make other dishes. Running over, I flipped two ovens on, then laid parchment paper out on four big pans. It took a few minutes to open the packages and arrange all those strips, but the ovens were still preheating when I finished.

Thinking as quickly as I could, I organized some jellies, jams, and butters into little dishes and popped some ready-made rolls and scones into bread baskets, then covered them with a cloth. By then, the ovens were ready for the bacon.

"Table’s set." Beta Roy came into the kitchen. "Are these ready to go out?"

He gestured to the bread baskets and things, and I nodded. He started carrying them into the dining room, which made me feel both guilty and grateful. It wasn’t his job, and Father wouldn’t like to know he’d helped me. I would do something nice for him the next time I had a chance.

Behind Father’s back, of course.

I started the coffee pot and looked at the clock again. Fifteen minutes left. What else could I make? I stuck my head back in the fridge.

Eggs! Perfect!

Getting out the biggest skillet, I melted butter, then added a dozen eggs. I was super careful not to break the yolks since Father liked sunny side up. Soon they were sizzling away.

Phew. Good.

The timer went off on the ovens, and I ran over to pull out the bacon. Patting off the grease and getting it plated took a few minutes, and by then the eggs were cooked, too.

"Hurry, Posy!" Beta Roy hissed. "Alpha’s almost here! Let me take those, then I need to meet him outside."

Nodding, I handed him the platters of eggs and bacon and whirled to the fridge one last time to grab the fruit and cheese trays. I hustled them out to the dining room before I ran back to the kitchen to finish up the coffee tray and fix some pitchers of orange and apple juice.

I’d just finished filling the sugar bowl when several delightful scents filtered into the room. They worked in harmony, yet each one was a distinct note in the bouquet: campfire, pine, maple syrup, roses, and vanilla. All my favorites.

The smells were addictive and I inhaled as much as my lungs could hold, ignoring my ribs as they screamed in protest.

Where is that coming from?

Then my father stalked into the kitchen, and all my attention diverted to him. Glancing at his face to gauge his mood, my heart sank. He was fuming.

Twisting his hand in my hair, he yanked my head back hard, hurting my neck. With a whimper, I dropped to my knees to try and relieve the pressure.

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