Page 8 of Alpha's Twins
He nods, and there’s a spark in his eyes that’s more than just reflection. “Fire’s kind of my thing. My brothers have lightning and the wind; my niece appears to be a bit of a mixture.”
“Fire?” I echo, disbelief and intrigue mingling in my voice.
“Yeah,” he says, a playful glint in his gaze. “I can show you sometime. Maybe if we take our wolves for a run sometime?”
And there it is—he doesn’t know I can’t shift. I push my chair back and busy myself clearing the plates. The shift in energy between us is awkward and palpable. He must feel it, too, because he stands and carries his plate to the sink, where I take it. “I’ll sort these,” I tell him quietly.
“You sure?” he replies, trying to catch my eye, but I swiftly brush him off.
“Of course, you cooked, and besides, you must be very busy.”
I breathe a sigh of relief when he takes the hint and makes his excuses to leave. He pauses at the door, but I deliberately keep my back to him and focus on washing the plates, only relaxing when I hear the front door click. How could Nolan not even tell him I can’t shift? I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, who would volunteer for a defective mate?
I feel the familiar weight of inadequacy settle over me, and I grip the edge of the sink, the cool metal pressing into my palms. The garden calls to me with its quiet promise of solitude. The air is so crisp, the ground damp beneath my shoes, and I head over to the flower arch I helped create last night. I can lose myself here, in the tangle of stems and leaves, in the illusion that I am something more than an obligation. I kneel in the dirt, sinking my hands into the earth, and try to focus on the small, green lives in front of me.
I am so absorbed in teasing the tender new shoots appearing that I don’t hear them approach.
“Serena?”
I nearly jump out of my skin, my heart racing as I turn to see three women standing at the garden gate. The tallest, a redhead with an easy smile, waves. “We didn’t mean to scare you,” she winces.
I scramble to my feet, brushing dirt from my knees. “It’s fine,” I say, but my voice is shaky. “I just wasn’t expecting anyone.”
“We thought we’d come say hi, welcome you to the pack,” says the woman with dark curls, her voice warm and genuine.
The third woman, petite and freckled, holds up a basket. “We brought cookies. Sarah here baked them.”
“Oh,” I say, stupidly, “that’s really nice.”
I can’t hide my surprise, and they seem to notice. They exchange glances, and I brace myself for the ridicule that used to follow when I was in the mainland pack.
Instead, the redhead, Sarah, says, “We can go if you’re busy, but we’d love to chat if you have the time.” She sounds like she means it.
I shake my head quickly, feeling flustered. “No, stay. Please. I was just…tidying up.”
The women all smile and walk through the garden, setting the basket of treats on the small table. I wring my hands, hoping they won’t notice how nervous I am. I try to calm my nerves by focusing on maintaining a friendly and neutral expression. I’m so used to expecting the worst from others in my pack that I’m ready for whatever they say or do.
“So, Serena,” Sarah says, getting out the treats and taking a seat, “how are you settling in?”
I hesitate before sitting, unsure what to do with myself. “It’s…different,” I say, immediately regretting it. Itsounds negative, ungrateful. “I mean, it’s nice. Everyone seems welcoming.”
The women share a look, and I brace for what comes next.
“We’re so glad to have you here,” the one with beautiful freckles says. Her voice is light and sincere. “I’m Cate, by the way.”
“Yeah, it’s been pretty hard around here with everything that went on…” the curly-haired one adds before trailing off. “We were so excited when Aiden told us you were joining the pack.”
I blink, trying to process her words. Excited? About me? I reach for a cookie to busy my hands, and the sweet smell feels intoxicating. “Thank you,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.
Emily leans forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Aiden said you’re a florist?”
So, Aiden has talked to them about me. Did he ask them to come here? The question feels safe, though, like a familiar patch of ground, so I grasp on to it. “Yes,” I say, “I have a store on the mainland. A friend is looking after it.”
“Will you open one here?” Sarah asks, glancing around at the flower arrangements beginning to take shape in the previously derelict yard.
I pause for a moment, all the questions I’ve been asking myself over the last few days swirling around in my mind. I’ve just been dropped here in this strange pack; I don’t know if they even need a florist like me on the island, if I’d be welcome, or if my new mate would even allow it. I feel my heart racing as their eyes all turn to me. Their expressions are friendly, but in my experience, you never know what people’s real intentions are.
“Perhaps,” I reply, “I’m just finding my feet. I’m not sure what Aiden would say.”
