Chapter 35: New Friends
Vivian Grey’s POV
It was official. I’d somehow become best friends with a certifiably insane, pregnant woman who took genuine joy in pushing my comfort levels to their absolute limit. Hannah practically held me hostage in her boutique, refusing to let me leave until I tried on every scandalous outfit she could find. Some of them had me seriously considering kneeling down and praying for my soul. I mean, come on. See-through lace? Who was that even for?
I drew a firm line there. "Nope," I had said, holding up one of those sheer, practically nonexistent pieces. "I’m not wearing something that looks like it came from a spider’s web and a bad decision."
Hannah had just smirked. "Wimp."
Once she’d tortured me enough, she left the store in the care of one of her assistants and dragged me around the territory for what she dubbed "a proper tour." And honestly, it was something I didn’t know I needed. Johnson had his boyish charm and silly antics, but Hannah? She was sharp-tongued, blunt to the point of painful honesty, and completely unbothered by social niceties.
While we were out, she noticed the way people instinctively gave me space, too much space, like they were afraid of breathing the same air. It was subtle, but she caught it. When a waiter spilled a drink before even making it to our table and practically collapsed into a spiral of apologies, Hannah called him out loud and clear.
"Okay, okay, we got it the first fifty times. Chill, man. No blood, no foul," she snapped.
The entire restaurant froze. Even though Hannah had spoken, every single gaze zeroed in on me, like they expected me to erupt or, I don’t know, transform into a monster on the spot.
"I-I’m..." The poor waiter looked like he might faint. His hands clutched his apron, twisting it as if it could hold him together. His brown eyes shimmered with panic.
I couldn’t take it. Something about his trembling form and desperate stammer made my heart squeeze. On instinct, I stood and walked over to him. I ignored the way people sucked in breaths around us. Luke and the others were nearby, watchful and ready, but they didn’t interfere.
I rested my hand gently on the waiter’s shoulder, and he flinched under my touch.
"Hey," I said softly, voice low and coaxing, "can you look at me? Because I feel like I’m giving this heartfelt monologue to a ghost."
He lifted his gaze slowly, hesitantly. Light brown hair framed a face that couldn’t have been much older than mine. His eyes matched the color of fresh earth, warm, but currently clouded with fear.
"What’s your name?" I asked gently.
"J-Jedadiah," he whispered, like he was confessing something awful.
"Well, Jedadiah, it’s okay. Honestly. Accidents happen." I gave him a smile, hoping it didn’t look as awkward as it felt. "Like my friend said, no blood, no foul. And believe me, if there was blood, you’d know. I’ve gone longer without food than I’d like to admit, and biting my own lip might have been a possibility."
His face twitched into a small, surprised grin. The tension around him seemed to unravel.
"There it is," I said, grinning back. "See? You’re gonna be fine."
He nodded, the stiffness in his posture easing slightly.
"What can I get you?" he asked, his voice still a little shaky, but more steady this time.
Before I could answer, Hannah chimed in with a list that had me staring.
"Lemonade. Cheeseburger, extra bacon. No mayo. No mustard. Fries. Onion rings. Garlic bread. A slice of pizza. Salad. And if I’m still breathing after that, maybe a banana split. Or chocolate cake. Or both."
Jedadiah and I exchanged looks.
"What?" she said, noticing our twin expressions of disbelief. Her right eye twitched in annoyance.
We both replied at the same time, "Nothing."
"Thought so," she huffed. "You may be Luna, but I’ve got zero problems locking you outside my shop in a banana suit. Same goes for you, puppy."
"Uh, noted," I replied, fighting back laughter. "I’ll just take two grilled cheese sandwiches, tomato sauce, garlic bread, and a Sprite. Oh, and let’s try not to drop it this time, yeah?"
I added a playful wink. His mouth dropped open in surprise, and his cheeks flushed pink. Nodding enthusiastically, he scurried off.
Just like that, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The tension dissolved like sugar in warm tea.
Later that evening, we dropped Hannah back at her place. The drive back to the pack house was quiet, peaceful even. I wanted to call it home, but the word still caught in my throat. Something inside me wouldn’t let it settle just yet.
By the time we pulled in, most of the house was dark. Faint snores echoed down the halls.
I said my goodnights and slipped away to the room Zaliver and I shared. A small smile tugged at my lips. We’d gone the entire day without any drama, no cold stares, no cryptic growling, no awkward tension. Maybe, just maybe, we were turning a corner.
Yeah. I really needed to stop jinxing myself.
I pushed the door open, expecting an empty room. But instead of finding it vacant, I was met with total darkness. Not a flicker of light.
I stepped in, shutting the door behind me and letting my hand trail along the wall for the switch until I touched something warm. Someone warm.
My breath caught.
My fingers had landed on Zaliver’s shoulder. He was rigid under my touch, like a statue carved from tension and shadow.
"Zaliver?" I whispered into the dark, heart thudding so hard I was sure he could hear it. Why was he just standing there?
Suddenly, he moved, too fast, too sudden. His hand clamped over mine, rough and unyielding. Without a word, he started dragging me toward the bed.
"Zaliver?" I said again, my voice cracking under a mix of nerves, confusion, and something else I didn’t want to name. Not yet.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he stopped abruptly and shoved me forward. I stumbled, crashing face-first onto the mattress with a muffled yelp.
Before I could catch my breath, he flipped me over, hovering above me in the dark like a phantom. My wolf stirred uneasily.
The room was pitch-black, and despite being a werewolf, I could barely make out his form. He was draped in black, cloaked in an eerie, bone-deep silence that screamed of something darker. His presence was ice wrapped in heat, still and stormy all at once.
"What are you doing?" I started to ask, but his growl, low and threatening, cut me off.
He crawled over me slowly, planting one hand on either side of my head, caging me beneath him. His face dipped close, so close I could feel the soft brush of his breath against my skin. His eyes glowed faintly, icy blue burning in the dark like twin flames.
And in them, I saw it all.
Anger. Betrayal. Longing. Confusion. Hunger.
And something deeper, something so dark and ancient it made my bones want to curl inward.
I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe.
Whatever this was, whatever storm was brewing inside him, I had a feeling it wasn’t finished yet.
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