The Alpha's Daydream

Cornflakes crunch in my mouth, their cracking sound the only thing I can hear in this silent and empty house.

As I pour milk into my bowl, I wonder where everyone is, and figure they must be out training, working hard, or avoiding me. The last realisation stings, as I know that Malachi never came home last night. Our bed remained cold and empty beside me.

I don’t know where he went or why he just ran from me last night. It had been going so well, the pizza and fellowship night I organised in full swing, and I was sure Malachi was happy and proud of what I’d done. I’d seen it in the way his blue eyes were watching me the entire time I told my story. I felt it in his racing heartbeat when I led him to the dance area and wrapped my arms around him.

I’d heard it in the gentle way he said my name.

But then he was gone.

Pushing through the crowd and disappearing into the shadowed forest like my touch was burning him, like the bonfire behind us was consuming his sense and reason.

What reason could he have for staying away all night? Did I do something wrong? If he was unhappy with me or didn’t like what I said, why couldn’t he just tell me?

My cornflakes are soggy by the time I finish staring down at the cereal, lost in thought and lost inside. I thought I was doing alright, but then these strange moods come over Malachi and he’ll act so strangely. Actually, most of the time he’ll be quiet and pensive, dark and brooding and keeping everything to himself. I recognise the serious look of responsibility on an Alpha, but Malachi is like that most of the time.

I just want to make him smile.

I just want him to laugh and be carefree for once in a while, setting his blue eyes to sparkling and shining with a thousand tiny flecks of silver.

I make my way back to my room, telling myself not to go out looking for him. I won’t go crawling to him like I’m needy.

If he wants to spend time with me, he’ll come to me.

He’ll find me.

My mouth tugs into a smile as I see my violin case, sitting unopened on top of a shelf near the window. I haven’t played it for weeks, yet my fingers find their place as I draw the bow across the strings. Instinct takes over, my thoughts speak through the simple melody that comes out of the instrument, and it turns haunting yet harmonising as I process what I’m feeling.

Music has always been a part of my soul, and I close my eyes and let it flow through me. The excitement builds as I change to something more upbeat, as the stress and worry slip from me with each note and trill I play. This makes me happy, this relaxes me, and I can’t help but sway around the room.

I then want to hear the echoes of the song in the hallways, with the high ceilings reverberating the strains back to me. The music soars through the empty mansion as I dance down the corridor and lose myself in the enjoyment of what I’m creating. The music flows from my imagination to my fingers, through the strings and back to my ears. It is almost magical.

“What is that terrible noise?! What are you doing to me?”

I gasp and slide on my toes as I come to a halt. The angry words reach me and I flinch.

“What are you doing? Are you trying to be the death of me?” Seneca staggers from a doorway on the upper level, in the eastern section of the mansion, right in front of me where I’d been exploring the richly carpeted hallway.

All I can do is gape at her as she clutches the doorframe, leaning against the wall as if she has no energy to stand. Her long black hair is tangled around her shoulders, her eyes wild and her face pinched in misery.

“I hate violins!” She looks at me with such spite in her black eyes, that it sends chills running up and down every bone in my body.

“I’m sorry, Luna Seneca, I--I didn’t know,” I stutter, my heart beating wildly as guilt washes over me.

She just glares at me, then grips her head and groans deeply, a sound that makes my heart cold. Digging her fingers into her hair, she screws up her face in obvious pain.

Suddenly remembering she had a bad migraine yesterday, I step closer against my better judgment. “Are you okay? Would you like me to get you anything—“

“Get out! Just leave me!” She screeches when I reach out a hand to help steady her, but she lashes out and the venom in her words makes me jump back.

“Why are you cursing me?” Seneca cries out as she drops to her knees, her nails scraping down the wall. “Why are you cursing me?!” Her head falls back as she shouts at the ceiling.

I’m transfixed by the frightening scene for a moment before my feet remember themselves. I turn and walk as quickly as I can away from Seneca and the heaviness in the air around her. I can only take a deep breath once I’m back in my room. I fling my violin on the bed and only have time to grab a sweater before I’m out the door again, heading to the back garden, the training field, the forest…

Anywhere.

Anywhere away from Seneca and her ferocious obsidian eyes that I’m sure will haunt me for days to come. I wanted to help her, but she made it impossible. Everything within me hates seeing someone suffering, but what can I do if I’m the one causing her pain? Her deep and guttural voice as she snarled at me still plays in my head.

There is also an impression that I can’t ignore. It almost felt like she wasn’t even talking to me. How was I cursing her? Did she really hate me that much and not approve of me for her son? Was my presence in her pack like a curse?

Or did she mean something else?

My feet take me absently down paths through the Alpha’s estate, and I vaguely keep the treeline in view to my right. I don’t want to get lost in the forest, though I’m sure I could track my way back.

Another thought presents itself: why didn’t I feel Seneca’s presence in the house? I thought I’d been all alone, so I was happily playing my violin as loud as I wanted. If I’d known she was there resting with her migraine, I wouldn’t have been so inconsiderate.

“Hello! Uh— hi!”

I stop at the sound of a child’s voice and look around, but see no one. “Hello?”

“Hi,” it repeats, and I glance over my shoulder. The cool wind blows through the trees around me, caressing my skin eerily. I move to take a step forward, but the voice stops me.

“Don’t step on my kite!”

I look down and see a blue and yellow striped kite right before my feet. A few leaves fall around me from the branches above, and I look up.

A little boy is clinging to a branch a few metres up in the tree, and my eyebrows lift in surprise. “How did you get up so high?”

“I climbed the tree.”

He must be only six or seven, with light brown hair and a cute little face that is grave and serious.

“Can you get down?” I put my hands on my hips and feel genuine worry for him. Did he climb it by himself? Are his parents around here? Do they know he’s really high up in a tree and could fall out if he’s not careful?“I uh… yes I tried, but… But I…”

I’m instantly reaching for the first branch and pulling myself up. He doesn’t sound okay, and I don’t want him falling and getting hurt if I can help it.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his little voice full of wonder. “You know how to climb a tree? Girls don’t climb trees.”

“Well, good thing I’m not like the girls you know. I happen to love climbing trees, no matter what anyone says.”

“Wow. Have you ever got stuck in a tree? You know, climbing is hard and I normally don’t…”

“It’s okay, I can help you down,” I reach his level, perching on a branch just beside him, and introduce myself. “I’m Ariella, and we’re going to climb down together. What is your name?”

“I’m Sammy. Well, Samson is my real name but Daddy just calls me Sammy,” he shrugs and gives me half a smile, and I see a dimple in his cheek.

“Okay, Sammy,” I smile. “Is your daddy around here? Does he know you’re climbing trees so high like a brave little panther?”

He laughs at my choice of words. But then he frowns. “Daddy doesn’t care.” His button nose crinkles as he says that, and my chest tightens.

“And your mom?”

He shrugs his slender shoulders. “She’s dead.”

“Oh, I—I’m sorry,” I stutter at his abrupt way of saying that. A tug of kinship sparks between us. “My mom died too when I was a little girl.”

“She did?” Sammy’s eyes widen, the brown irises peering at me with his full attention.

I nod, “It was during a fight. She was protecting me from bad wolves.”

“Do you miss her? I try and not miss my mommy, but it’s hard. Daddy says I need to be tough and not sad, but..” a frown squeezes his eyebrows together and I reach out to pat his shoulder.

“Sure, I miss her lots. And I know it’s okay to be sad, it doesn’t make you any less brave and strong. I’m sure your mom wouldn’t want you to forget about her.”

Nodding his head as he listens to my words, Sammy avoids my eyes and I see a tear or two glisten on his long lashes.

“Let’s climb down now, hey? I’m sure your dad is wondering where you are.”

Sammy shrugs his shoulders again, but he lets me guide him down, following my instructions. I point out exactly which branches to hold onto and step on, and soon we both jump down to the ground.

“Do you want to fly your kite now?” I ask as he picks it up.

“Nah, there’s not enough wind. I just want to go home.”

“Okay.” I’m unsure what to do as he walks away a few steps, because I’m wanting to talk more and be his friend.

Then suddenly he halts and turns back to me with a question mark on his face. “You coming?”

“Sure. You’re inviting me to your place?”

With a serious look he nods. “Mom always said to be kind to our leaders. And you’re going to be our Luna soon, so I guess I should show you my home. Be friendly and neighbourly like. She would do that, anyway,” he plays with the kite tail in his hands and speaks shyly.

“That’s nice. Thank you, Sammy.” I’m struck by his words. He sounds mature beyond his years, but then I know that losing a parent can either set you back or make you grow up faster.

Then one thing he said catches up to me. “How did you know I’m going to be the Luna?”

“I saw you last night with our Alpha,” he says simply.

“Oh, you came to the bonfire! What did you think of it? Did you enjoy the pizza and stories?” I pepper him with questions, wanting honest feedback and I know pups can be brutally honest.

“Yep. Daddy didn’t want me to go but I snuck out when he was drinking. The pizza was so good I ate three of them. Is that… is that okay?” he looks up at me with wide eyes, but I don’t care how much food he ate. I’m more shocked by his admission of being a rebel at such a young age.

But haven’t I done the same—sneak out behind my parents’ backs? I’m not proud of my secretive actions.

“You know, if your dad has good reasons for not letting you go somewhere, then you should obey him and do what he says. You’re still pretty young to be out doing things on your own. And I’m sure he just wants to keep you safe.”

Sammy looks up at me with a frown and a sad look, but then he shakes it off and fists his tiny hands together. “Yeah, I s’pose.” But by the look on his face, I doubt he agrees with me, but I don’t push it.

The matter is dropped, and I follow him down the field and across the edge of the town centre, making small talk. I find out he’s an only child, always wanted a big brother like some of the other pups, and doesn’t have many friends in the pack. His dad is rarely home because he’s one of the top guards, yet I can tell Sammy is proud of him and what he does to protect the pack.

We reach a small faded looking structure, the front porch sagging, one of the front windows boarded up, and old vines trailing over the railing in a riot of messy twists. I swallow and gingerly follow Sammy as he bounds up the steps and pushes through the front door.

The screen swings eerily behind me on perfectly oiled hinges.

“There’s not much to look at, but here’s the living room. Through there is my bedroom and then daddy’s, and this is the kitchen,” Sammy quickly gives me the grand tour with a jab of his thumb in the directions of the rooms, before skipping to the sink and getting himself a drink of water.

I try not to let my thoughts show on my face, so I smile. But in reality, my heart clenches at the emptiness of this place, the dust that lays over everything like a thick blanket, and the bare kitchen benches with barely any appliances or even food.

Everything is so sterile, and not homey at all.

Sammy stares at me for a moment before breaking the silence. “I should probably finish my homework. I’m not sure if you want to stay for dinner or you can go, or…”

“Hmm what are you having?” I give him a cheerful grin.

“Dunno. Whatever’s in the fridge or maybe Dad will bring something…”

Again, he goes quiet and I try to put my finger on the problem here. I walk to the fridge and find it empty of anything fresh besides fermenting alcohol. The pantry isn’t much better, but I manage to find a few things. My mind scrambles for recipes.

“What do you think of sweet potato fritters with tomato salsa?” I hold up some old root vegetables and cans.

His little face lights up. “I’ll help you make them!”

We work together for the next half hour, talking about our childhood and what games we like to play. Just as we set the table with chipped crockery, the front door opens and Sammy runs up to his father and jumps in his arms. I stand awkwardly, my best smile ready for this stranger whose house I’m in.

“What are you doing here?” he turns to me, and his dark brown eyes are familiar.

“Daddy, I invited the Luna to eat with us. Mommy would have—”

“I said don’t talk about her,” the man sets his son down from his arms, his voice gruff and cold as nails.

Sammy mumbles an apology then scoots behind the table, slipping into a seat as his father regards me down his nose, arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Hi, uhh, I’m Ariella. I met your son Sammy while out walking, and we spent the afternoon together then he invited me over here and I helped him make some dinner,” I speak all in a rush, eager to get the words out before this fierce warrior bites my head off.

“I know who you are,” he states flatly, giving me no clue what he’s really thinking behind those dark brown eyes of his as they bore into me. I twist my fingers together, my heart fluttering ridiculously.

“Then let’s—“

“Why aren’t you home taking care of the Alpha?”

“Excuse me?” I blink, confused by his question.

“Since you’re the Luna, why are you here in my house? Don’t you have an Alpha to look after?”

It dawns on me what he means. I push aside the acknowledgment that I am Luna, instead hearing the insult behind the words.

“I am your Alpha’s mate, yes. I care for him, but I also have a pack to look after. Your son needed help so I offered him my assistance. I didn’t know it was a crime here for the Luna to make friends with her pack members.”

With my shoulders thrown back, I speak to him with perfect eye contact, rule number one of being taken seriously. I won’t just let him push me out after how far I’ve come. This may be his house, but his son needs more than a surly father’s care. He needs a kind Luna to look out for him.

He stares me down for a few moments, and I feel sweat sliding down my back as I dread how this warrior will respond to my defiance.

“I’m more than capable of taking care of my son.”

“I never said you weren’t. I just wanted to do something nice for him and you. Sammy invited me here, so I helped him make dinner for the both of you..”

He looks between me and Sammy, then at the table, then back to me, and I see his shoulders ease in relent.

“Okay. Fine. Just this once. I guess you better sit and join us.”

“Of course she’s joining us!” Sammy grins and grabs my hand. “It would be rude to tell her to leave now, Daddy.”

I can’t help the warm smile as I slide into a chair and dish up the food.

His father gives him a hard look, making me wonder if Sammy is again quoting his dead mother. It hurts me that he would be forbidden to speak of her, but it really isn’t my place to say anything about it.

“I never caught your name,” I say, tilting my head at Sammy’s father.

“I’m Jasper,” he mutters quietly, taking the offered plate of fritters, and despite his reluctant attitude, I hear it and something clicks in my brain.

“You were with Archie when he challenged me my first afternoon here?”

Jasper chuckles in quiet amusement. “So new girl turned out to be the Alpha pup’s mate.”

With the confirmation, I nod. “That makes sense,” I mumble.

“What does?” Jasper pricks his ears up, instantly tense.

“That you and Archie are friends. Of course you don’t want me here, because you hate the young Alpha, so you hate me.”

Jasper sighs and runs a hand over his stubbled jaw. “I don’t hate you or Malachi. Archie did. He may have been my friend, but we didn’t always see eye to eye.”

“But… don’t all the older warriors despise Malachi out of utter loyalty to his late father who was opposite to him? Don’t you all stick by some code of the old ways that Malachi is trying to steer away from?”

Jasper chews thoughtfully before responding. “We all respected Alpha Dennison, but where Archie was devoted to him with ardent loyalty, I submitted to Dennison only because he was our superior. Our Alpha. That’s not saying I always supported every decision he made. That old wolf was a madman. It seemed with each passing year, he became more and more insane, especially near the end of his life. I wasn’t even sad when he drove his car off a cliff. It was a relief, actually.”

I choke on my forkful of sweet potato, but cough and fan my mouth as if the food is too hot.

“I’m sorry. So, if you followed Alpha Dennison out of duty, why not his son also? Why don’t you regard him as your Alpha?” There are so many things I want to ask now, especially about Dennison’s death and his mental health at the time leading up to it. From what I’ve heard about how he treated everyone, his mate especially, it makes sense if he was mentally unstable. No one is so cruel on purpose. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

“Malachi is a smart pup, but young. He’s not even twenty. We keep doing what we know to do, protect the pack and all that. But until he’s older and proven himself, I won’t swear my life to him. I need to know I can trust him.”

The way he speaks so deadly serious makes me wonder just what Jasper has been through to make him feel this way.

But I nod anyway, though unsure if I truly understand. “And Dennison was untrustworthy, so of course you’re critical of his son. I get it. And I can understand there’d be a lot of mixed emotions surrounding the death of the former Alpha. But does Malachi need to keep bearing the weight of that? Why is he faced with such critical expectations from everyone? Why can’t the pack grieve and move on together?”

Jasper’s eyes hold mine intently. “Don’t go thinking you can solve all our problems in one week, missy. Already had one Luna try and do that. Only made the situation worse.”

The last words are murmured under his breath and I almost don’t catch it.

Almost, but I do. And it only makes me burn with more questions. But before I can ask any, Jasper suddenly slaps the table, making me jump.

“Bedtime for you, Sammy boy. Say goodbye to your friend,” he says loudly.

With a sigh, Sammy pushes back his empty plate and tries to give me a grin but I see the groan in his eyes.

“Goodnight, little panther. Dream of kites and trees, won’t you?” I ruffle his hair and earn myself a sight of that cute dimple in his cheek.

After he runs off, his father turns to me. “The Alpha is looking for you, and he doesn’t sound happy. Hamilton also said you missed training. If I were you, I’d head back home before Malachi comes around and gives me another reason to distrust him.”

“I should help with dishes,” I stall and wring my hands together, suddenly afraid to face Malachi. I’d spent nearly all the day away from the mansion, never letting anyone know where I was. Not that anyone was around to tell or care, so I thought.

Jasper shakes his head, aware of my evasion tactics, and shows me out the door. I say goodnight, thank him for the company, and hope to myself that he lets me come over and see Sammy again.

Once I reach Malachi’s estate, I smell his scent freshly lacing the path, and it is strong and earthy. I’m barely through the back door when I am roughly pushed against the wall, my shoulder blades slamming into the hard wood panels.

A scream unfurls in my throat, but I squelch it when I recognise Malachi’s touch on my skin, his firm body pressing against mine.

“Malachi,” I whisper, still in a conflicted mind. Then I tense when I look in his face and see the cold look he’s giving me.

His eyes shift between blue to black, and if my pounding heart wasn’t messing with my vision, I’d say there are red flecks in his irises.

“Where have you been?” he demands in a deep throaty voice that chills the blood to ice in my veins.

A/N

Sorry it’s late and if there are typos! My weeks have been so much busier and I just haven’t had the time to sit at my laptop and write this!

Anyway, here it is now, and I hope you enjoy! Please share your thoughts :)

~ Kiana Rose ~