Chapter 48: My Alpha
Vivian Grey’s POV
I sat curled up on the couch, quietly watching Zaliver as he moved back and forth between the closet and the bed, packing his things into a sleek black suitcase. My arms were folded tightly across my chest, trying to keep in whatever mix of feelings I didn’t want to admit out loud.
"I can smell your irritation," he said casually, not even turning around.
I stayed silent. What was I supposed to say? That yes, I was irritated? That the thought of him leaving gnawed at me? That I didn’t like how easily he just decided to go without even talking to me about it?
He paused, whatever shirt or pair of pants he’d been holding now forgotten as he turned to face me. His brows were pulled together, that intense gaze of his searching my face.
"You’re upset because I’m leaving."
His voice wasn’t firm or teasing like usual, it was hesitant. Like he wasn’t used to being called out on this kind of thing. I tilted my head slightly, silently asking him to go on.
He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, eyes narrowing in that way they did when he was really thinking about something. Then, out of nowhere, he chuckled.
"You know, I haven’t had to explain myself to anyone in over three hundred years. I think I owe you an apology for not being more considerate about how you’d feel about this trip. I can’t back out of it, but in the future, I promise to let you in on things like this."
I blinked at him, caught completely off guard. Damn. He really knew how to cut through the noise.
"Apology accepted," I replied quickly, maybe too quickly, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment.
He took a deep breath, twice actually, and let them both out with this cocky smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"You look satisfied now. Good," he said with a soft laugh, and went back to packing like that little heart-to-heart hadn’t just happened.
I rolled my eyes. "Weirdo," I muttered under my breath.
"I heard that."
"No, you didn’t."
He hummed knowingly, and I added, "Must be your age catching up to you."
That earned me a playful growl over his shoulder, and I quickly threw my hands up like I was surrendering. "Kidding! Don’t bite!"
His tone shifted, though his eyes still danced with amusement. "While I’m gone, steer clear of unmated males."
I raised a brow. "No arguments here. I like my freedom, and I’d rather not have you killing anyone over a harmless conversation."
He smirked in agreement. "Glad we’re on the same page. I’ll call you when I land in New York and every two hours after that."
I snorted, half-amused, half-exasperated. "Every two hours? Seriously?"
"Yes. You’ll sleep in our room every night I’m away. If you decide to spend the night at Hannah’s, have Johnson call me."
I nodded. Honestly, the idea of staying at Hannah’s didn’t sound so bad. Like a sleepover, just with massive wolves stationed around the house for security. I’d already figured out he’d beef up protection while he was gone. It was so him. And while I could call him out on it, I didn’t want to. Not yet.
If we were going to make this work, really try to understand each other, then I needed to show him that I could trust his judgment. Even if it was a little possessive and borderline overbearing at times. It was a start.
"So," I said casually, "what’s this trip for? Business?"
He stiffened for a fraction of a second before answering. "Yes. Business."
Right.
"And my gifts? You know, the ones you’re definitely bringing back?" I gave him a bright, innocent smile.
He glanced at me, mischief flashing in his eyes. The next second he lunged at me with a dramatic roar. I shrieked and scrambled back on the couch while he laughed like a madman.
He left the next morning while I was still half-asleep, and by the time I was fully awake and at Hannah’s door with my overnight bag and four wolves in tow, I was doing a passable impression of someone who had it together.
"And here we are, Luna. Welcome to my sister’s humble—"
"Humble?" Hannah’s voice cut through Johnson’s grand introduction as we pulled into her driveway. "Your house is a shack. Mine is fabulous. Don’t insult me like that."
I couldn’t help but laugh as she threw open the front door and marched inside like she owned the world, which, knowing her, she probably believed she did.
"Well, come on in, Vivian," she called over her shoulder. "Mark should be home by now."
Hannah’s place was even more beautiful than I expected. A two-story house painted the softest shade of blue, framed by a clean stone walkway that led to the front door. A sleek black car was parked outside like it belonged there, like everything was intentional, perfectly placed.
Luke was cracking up about something when Courtney and Mila pulled in behind us. Johnson, on the other hand, looked like a thundercloud, muttering under his breath as he stomped into the house after Hannah.
"What’s eating him?" Mila asked, nodding toward Johnson’s retreating back.
"Hannah compared his place to a humble shack next to her fabulous home," Luke said, grinning. The girls burst into laughter, and even I cracked a smile.
My eyes lingered on the house longer than necessary. It stirred something inside me, something old, something soft. I’d always dreamed of living in a real home, one that was lived in and loved. I wondered if Zaliver had ever thought about something like this, a house, a yard, something a little more human. Probably not. But me? I’d always liked putting spaces together, making things feel warm. I found myself wondering what kind of house he would like.
"Luna?" Luke’s voice pulled me back.
I blinked and turned toward him. Courtney and Mila were watching me too, their expressions tinged with concern.
"Sorry," I said quickly, offering a small smile. "Was just admiring the house. Shall we?"
They nodded, but not before exchanging a glance between themselves. There was something strange about it, a flicker of silver in their eyes, but when I blinked again, it was gone. I chalked it up to missing Zaliver too much, seeing pieces of him everywhere I looked.
I made a silent promise to myself then: I wouldn’t think about him for the rest of the visit. This was about getting to know Hannah’s mate and showing I wasn’t whatever rumors were floating around about me. I wanted them to see me.
I drew in a deep breath, shook out my limbs, and walked to the door with a nervous excitement I hadn’t felt in a while.
The moment I stepped inside, I was hit by the smell of lasagna and garlic bread, and my stomach practically wept in joy.
Hannah stood beside a man who looked fairly average from behind, normal height, average build, neatly trimmed hair, khaki shorts, and a deep red shirt. Honestly, he looked like someone’s dependable neighbor. I almost joked about him being Jake from State Farm.
And then he turned around.
Definitely not Jake from State Farm.
An eyebrow piercing. Snake bites. Bright green eyes that sparkled with mischief. I blinked, stunned for a moment. He laughed the second he caught my expression. Hannah just shook her head with that amused look she wore so well.
Mark was unexpectedly handsome, in a way that made you reassess your assumptions. A whole different vibe from what his back projected.
"Gets ’em every time," he said, still chuckling. "Never gets old. I’m Mark, but I’m sure you already knew that. Hannah’s been talking about you, Luna. It’s a pleasure. Welcome to our fabulous home." He shot Hannah a teasing look, and she rolled her eyes but smiled.
He extended his hand, and I took it without hesitation, though I silently begged the universe that Zaliver wouldn’t feel the contact through the bond. He had a knack for knowing things he wasn’t supposed to.
"Lunch will be done soon. The table’s already set, go ahead and make yourselves comfortable," Mark said, ushering us into the living room.
"He cooks, he sets the table, and checks in on guests? I approve," I whispered to Hannah.
She gave me a knowing smile, warm and a little secret, that made me like her even more.
Once Mark brought in the food and everyone had gathered around the table, I finally got a good sense of who he was. Over plates of perfectly baked lasagna and soft, buttery garlic bread, I learned that he worked as one of the pack’s top trackers. But more than that, he was a devoted mate, attentive, thoughtful, and completely smitten with Hannah and her pregnancy.
It was easy to like him. Easy to see why Hannah glowed the way she did.
I was just beginning to relax, to feel like maybe I could actually enjoy this.
And then Zaliver appeared mid-meal, like a storm sweeping through a calm sky.
Even before I turned to look, I felt him. His presence always hit me like a shifting gravity, familiar and consuming.
And just like that, all thoughts of trying to forget him, even for a little while, vanished.
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