Getting away with the Alpha's Pup

Cherry

I let myself in, noticing Dylan’s keys in the bowl on the table. My heart punched my chest like a jackhammer, overreacting to the fact that he was home. I dropped my own keys in the bowl with a clatter. A moment later, Dylan’s study door opened.

Dylan filled the doorway. His shoulders were so broad they almost touched both sides of the frame, and he seemed to loom over me, even with the long hallway between us. I always felt overwhelmed by his presence. His dark eyes found me in the low light, and I fought to conceal how much his stare affected me. His strong features were so handsome, filled with all the rugged beauty of the Moon God that only our pack’s most talented artists could hope to imbue their sculptures with. I felt Dylan’s pull on me like I did the full moon.

I wanted to go to him. My lips prickled as if telling me to use them as I wanted to. “Kiss him,” they seemed to whisper.

If only...

Instead, I stated the obvious, “You’re home.”

He frowned. “Thought you were Bert.” At the confusion on my face, he added, “He borrowed the truck. He’s posting the keys through.”

I nodded, trying to keep the disappointment out of my expression. Of course, Dylan hadn’t voluntarily left his study to say hello to me. I tried not to feel too jealous that he had more time for Bert, his Beta, and his friend than he did for me.

I kept my tone casual as I suggested, “I’m gonna open a bottle. Want a drink?”

His dark eyebrows dragged together, “No thanks, I’ve got a fair bit to do before I finish up tonight.” Withdrawing, his study door clicked shut behind him.

And just like that, the space that had seemed so full of his presence was empty.

Disappointment fluttered in my chest. But, with a deep breath, I reminded myself that he had to work hard. After all, he was the Alpha-in-training of our pack, Starsmoon, and an Alpha’s job was never done.

Hell, I understood the workload Dylan was under, given that I’d spent the last year shadowing his mom, Heather, the Luna of Starsmoon. Most days, I helped her with her duties. When I’d started learning my future role as Luna, I’d been surprised at the amount of necessary work Heather did in the background. Daily, she’d have pack members to visit who were ill or having a personal problem; nothing was too great or too small for her. She made sure she knew what was going on in the lives of all her pack members. She also spent a lot of time with outreach work in the local community. She’d schooled me in the necessity that the pack had a strong cohesion with the local community, too. Being shifters, we had a real need for seclusion once a month while we shifted, but it was vital that the small town didn’t get suspicious of us, so we had to ensure we didn’t isolate ourselves from it either.

I’d always respected Heather as our pack’s Luna, and I’d been impressed and inspired by how caring she was with the human community in the area. Most days, I attended a church, community center, youth club, school, or library event with her, readying myself for the role of Luna that would one day be mine.

Wandering into my bedroom, I got out the cushion covers I’d made at my dad’s house in Seattle. They were white with a pattern of delicate cherry blossoms scattered across them. I’d made them for the living-room. It always made me feel better to design and make something with my namesake on it: Cherry. My mom started the tradition. She always enjoyed getting me things with cherries on them. I remembered how she’d enjoyed surprising me with things, dresses, teddies, blankets, anything that was awash with the shiny red fruit. I felt as if I could still hear her joyful whisper in my ear, “For my Cherry.”

A stab of longing swept through me. My mom had passed away a couple of years ago when I was sixteen. It was only a year and a half later that the Starsmoon Alpha and Luna brought me here to the small town of Lord Hill, where Dylan lived. To live with my… mate. Our Alpha and Luna, Dylan’s parents, had long foreseen that Dylan and I were destined for each other. They’d told both Dylan and me when he was in his teens, and I was eleven, that the shifter Moon God, Nuu-Chah, had guided them with a vision that we belonged together.

We were fated mates. A pang of frustration swooped through me—fated mates who barely spoke to each other. We didn’t even share a bedroom. I looked around my room, at the double bed, wardrobe, and vanity table, filled with only my things.

His mom and dad had wanted us to live together to get to know each other properly before we were officially joined together during our Moon Ceremony. When I’d first moved in, Dylan had been the one to suggest we have separate rooms. At the time, I’d thought he was being a real gentleman. But almost a year on, our Moon Ceremony likely not far off, and our separate rooms hadn’t changed.