Family means the world to the Luna of the Lotus Pack, Amelia Wilson, and when comes to her pack she will always choose them. However, her life is spun around after one Alpha Ball, where she is faced with the question;
Mate or Pack?
...Will she pick...
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"Wake up," I felt a nudge as I squeezed my eyes tighter, pushing my face further into my pillow.
"No," I grumbled into the fabric as I prayed for sleep to take over my body once more, I could feel the sun shining through my closed lids and I shoved my face into my pillow to hide from the glare, while I attempted to delve back into my dream—I was having such a nice dream.
I had a puppy, I've always wanted a puppy.
Sleep wasn't coming back anytime soon however as I felt the not so mysterious human being continue to shake me from my slumber, turning me around so I was victim to the harsh sun once again.
"Fuck off," I grumbled, swatting the hands away from me—however, grabby hands weren't going anywhere.
"Lia, come on," I heard him chuckle—It was Sebastian. Of course, it was Sebastian, who was would disrespect my sleep as a mate would?
Part of me was ready to lunge and attack the man, an act of perfect revenge for waking me up, but my wolf wouldn't allow it.
The moment my wolf recognised his voice, she swooned and the only lunging she wanted to do was into his welcoming arms.
What a needy bitch.
"Amelia!" He called out again as he shook me.
"What?" I groaned, finally opening my eyes and staring directing at the ceiling, I could see Sebastian edging into my eyesight. I turned to him and mustered a glare, narrowing my eyes at him with my lips forming an irritated pout. "What is your problem?" I asked him pointedly, his nagging getting on my last nerve.
Was I wrong to want to sleep away the day, sleep away the week? Hell, I was all ready to sleep the year away. I felt drained going to bed, and I felt even worse waking up.
I thought sleeping was supposed to make you feel better, so why did I feel more like shit than I did before I went to bed?
I watched as Sebastian lifted his hands higher, showcasing the tray of food that he was holding the entire time.
"Thought you would want some breakfast," He said, his sharp features and rough exterior becoming softened by his actions.
"You made me breakfast?" I was feeling a form of déjà vu coming over me. He made me breakfast? Again?
I took a moment to look at the tray in his hands, it was some form of porridge, with blueberries scattered on top and what looked like a drizzle of syrup right next to a cup of what I could only assume was coffee, steaming still coming off of the milky liquid.
"It pains me that you're still surprised by it," He joked, before placing the tray on top of my awaiting lap and sitting next to me.
Looking at him, I had to suppress a sigh. He was nice—maybe even too nice. His exterior showed a roughness that people spoke about all around the globe—he was to be feared. But he wasn't scary at all?
