Chapter 5: pack members
Vivian Grey’s POV
That’s when I spotted Albericus, slipping through one of the open doorways into a large room. Toys littered the floor along with tiny shoes. Was this where someone lived? Kids?
By the time we reached the end of the hall, a glass-floored spiral staircase curled upward to yet another level of this massive place. Corridors branched out like arteries from the heart of the home. I glanced up at the stairwell, still stunned. Was this his packhouse?
But that didn’t make sense. Zaliver wasn’t just some Alpha, he was the Lupus Deus. A wolf god. If he ruled over all, why would he need a single pack? Wouldn’t every pack already belong to him?
Before I could wrap my head around it, we entered a spacious living room. Sleek black couches faced towering windows veiled with sheer curtains that poured golden sunlight across the floors. It looked like the kind of place you’d see in a dream. Warm. Alive. Nothing like the black, stripped-bare room he’d kept me in.
Then came the kitchen, a large, open space with a thick wooden table in the center. Zaliver set me down on one of the chairs, then turned to the counters and began pulling things out. I blinked.
Was he cooking?
The moment we entered, the noise in the room dropped. Laughter faded. I glanced around and saw them, two guys and three girls, all staring at us. Or more specifically, at me, while carefully keeping Zaliver in their peripheral vision.
The two guys looked almost identical, like walking mirror images. Both had cream-blond hair slicked back and deep brown eyes, soft, almost cherubic features. Definitely twins. The one on the left had sharper cheekbones, the one on the right a stronger jawline. Their shirts, green and blue, were the only quick way to tell them apart aside from their jeans.
The girls were completely different from one another. Closest to me stood a tall girl with rich dark skin, hazel-green eyes, and a pixie cut framing a striking face. Confident posture, thin lips, a round nose.
Next to her stood someone out of a fairy tale, a tiny girl barely over five feet, fiery red hair, deep green eyes, a heart-shaped face that made her look almost too sweet for this world.
Beside her leaned another girl with caramel-toned skin, long black hair, soft brown eyes, fuller lips. She looked around my age and just about my height.
They were all watching me, curious and cautious. I shifted in my seat.
I turned my attention back to Zaliver. He moved with practiced ease, taking out ingredients I couldn’t quite see from my angle. I was still raw from what he’d done to me in that room, the hands in my head, the part of myself he’d gone through without asking. Watching him stand at a stove like an ordinary man didn’t make any of that easier to sit with. If anything it made it worse, the gap between what he was capable of and how harmless he looked doing something as small as cooking.
The group near the doorway was still watching us. Or rather, me. Their gazes kept shifting between me and Zaliver, like they were trying to work out what exactly was happening.
My face flushed. I wasn’t used to being the center of attention in a kitchen full of strangers and one very dangerous man.
"Uh, hi," I managed.
Smooth, Vivian. Real smooth.
The tall, dark-skinned girl brightened and gave me a cheerful wave.
"Hello! I’m Amber." She pointed around the room. "That’s Leslie, that’s Angela, and those two are Drake and Blake." She gestured vaguely at the twins without actually saying which was which.
So: red-haired girl, Leslie. Caramel skin, Angela. The twins, somehow still a complete mystery even after a formal introduction. I made a mental note to ask one of them directly later, since apparently nobody in this house was going to make it easy on me.
I gave them a small smile. "Nice to meet you. I’m Vivian."
They all gave polite nods and stepped further into the room.
The twins made a beeline for one of the fridges and came back with bottles, sodas and water. They passed the drinks around, Coke for the girls, one twin keeping the water for himself.
Leslie and Angela leaned against the counter, watching me with a mix of friendliness and curiosity. Amber started toward me like she meant to sit down and start a real conversation.
Before she could reach me, a low, guttural growl ripped through the room.
Zaliver hadn’t said a word. Hadn’t even looked up. But the sound that tore out of his throat was primal, dangerous, unmistakable.
Amber froze mid-step, eyes wide.
What. The. Hell.
We all froze. The air went thick, sharp enough to cut. Nobody breathed as we stared at Zaliver. His back was still turned, but his head had angled just enough to send a piercing glare straight at Amber.
To the others I was sure he looked like exactly what he was, tall, broad-shouldered, every muscle coiled with quiet violence. One dark strand of hair had fallen loose across his eyes, and even like that he looked less like a man who’d lost his temper and more like something deciding whether it was worth the effort.
Amber stumbled back a few paces, head low, until she hit the wall with a quiet thud. Her little group traded looks before muttering among themselves, stealing glances our way.
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