Alpha's Winter Promise

Episode 23 - Pants - Olivia's POV

It was another one of those accidental Renaissance paintings. 

Atticus and his brother busted into my room, one balancing a tray of food and the other wielding a burrito as a weapon. I’m on the floor, a child is pointing at me.  A child that apparently belongs to Benedictus and is most definitely not a ghost.

Still has the weird silver eye thing going on and did tell me I was going to die soon……but definitely a not dead little person. 

Atticus gently assists me with untangling from the blankets and curtain.  Once he starts to laugh, it’s infectious.  A bubble popped in me and I join in, gasping for air around the giggles.  He offers me a hand up and I take it gratefully. 

He grabs the breakfast tray, looks down, looks away and says he’s going to the other room.  I follow his gaze to my second realization of the day, and it’s not even 9am yet…I am standing there with no pants on. 

No pants on and a giant sweatshirt with a kitten illustration on it.  At first I’m embarrassed, seconds later a hot flush of anger hits my stomach.  Does he think i’m repulsive?  Does he not WANT to look at my bare legs? 

I drop my expression back into ‘neutral’ mode and stride out behind him like there’s absolutely nothing wrong or absurd about me sitting across from him with no pants on.  I sit in the ‘Just-Right’ chair from my Goldilocks testing the night before.  I cross my legs, feeling defiant in the action.

“Two sugars and three splashes of cream.”  He dutifully adds sugar and cream to my coffee before handing it to me. 

I don’t know if it’s the coffee in my hand or Atticus but the scent is downright deliciously distracting.  I glance over at my mate who seems to be doing everything he can to avoid looking at my legs.  I intentionally stretch a little, feeling a tickle of frustration run through me. 

“That’s odd…..Orla, are you mad?”  I reach out to her. 

She barges to the front of my thoughts.  “Not at all.  Mate desires us!”   

“Wait, what?” 

“That's not mad-mad, that’s mad for us.  That’s the bond.”  She explains like she’s talking to a five year old.  “You know, LUST.  Which is obvious because we are beautiful.  Go ahead and make him hurt for it.” 

Lust.  I can feel my mate having….desires for me.  And I can’t decide if I feel self-conscious about it or empowered.  This is new.  This is daring. 

His phone picks that moment to start ringing.  He excuses himself, stepping over by the window to take the call.  I give myself an opportunity to really look at him for the first time.  Just like seeing him on the jumbotron in the arena, I decide he’s not traditionally handsome. 

But he’s engaging.  His hair is dark and falls around his face in waves, the morning light making it look like satin.  Satin in need of a trim, but I do wonder if it is as soft as it looks.  His eyes are icy blue, not kind but not cruel…..observant maybe… like he is constantly collecting a stream of information to analyze.  But while his eyes speak to logic, his mouth was shaped for passion. 

His mouth is expressive.  He frowns at something he’s hearing but laugh lines shape the corners of his mouth as he responds.  I think I could watch him talk all day. 

He’s tall, nearly as tall his brother, and lean.  Atticus is currently in athletic pants and a simple white tee shirt.  I wonder if this is his normal attire for mornings, and as he raises an arm to run a hand through his hair I find that I do not object at all.  The sleeve of the tee shirt pulls tight over his bicep and the hem of the shirt raises just enough for a tantalizing glimpse of skin just above his waistband. 

Suddenly his eyes lock on to mine, looking for some kind of information or answer in my face.

“Idiot.”  Orla chastises me.  “If YOU can feel him, wouldn't it be safe to say HE can feel YOU?” 

Horror…..just……  No.  I tell myself.  I do not desire him in that way.  Absolutely not.  What good is it to desire somebody who doesn’t want you to be there?  I’ve seen how Xander and his cronies are with girls, desire isn’t always wrapped up with respect or love.  Just look at my own parents.  I’d be surprised if there was an ounce of love between them.

I set the coffee down and grab my plate, the eggs and bacon starting to go cold.  I tell myself that my salivation was in response to food and not in response to my mate.

“Apologies about Cass.  She is a slippery little thing and we’ve had to get into her before for sneaking the master key away from Deb.  Oh, she’s basically the pack house mom.  Deb, not Cass.”  He offers me another apologetic smile.  “I just wanted to make sure you had something to eat without having to face the whole pack at once.  We can get you introduced to everyone slowly and give you a tour of the grounds when you feel up to it.  No pressure.” 

No pressure?  I’m a Luna now, at least in name… I should have people lining up to meet me and learn how I like things done.  Does he expect me to just laze about in my room all day?  My mother had luncheons with other Lunas, she wrote letters, and accompanied Daddy places to ensure that our image was maintained.   

“Can we start with the basics?  I know nothing of your pack.  I know the expectations of being a Luna, but I’m not sure my skills are….”  I gesture at the somewhat shabby guest suite, “.....applicable here.” 

“We will have to see.  I don’t know the first thing about how Lunas are trained so we’ll learn together.”  I think he’s trying to be helpful, but it comes off as him not wanting me to be involved in any way. 

“Fine.  We can work with that.  Has a maid been assigned to me yet?  My belongings need to be put away and I’m sure there’s some washing that needs to be done.” 

“Um, well….  We don’t really have that here, but I’m sure I can get Deb to schedule someone to help get you situated….In the meantime, would you like me to take your luggage to the other room?  I can also get the curtains hung back up for you…..”  He doesn’t wait for an answer before jumping up to pull the two large suitcases to the bedroom.  I can hear him settling the curtain rod back into place as well. 

“Alright, I am expected to be over at the training field shortly so I’ll need to run.  I wrote my number down for you, its on the nightstand.”  He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, but quietly slips out the door instead. 

The room feels empty with him gone.  I feel untethered without his presence.  I want him here, but it hurts knowing he’s only humoring me. 

  First things first, finish breakfast.  Secondly, find pants.

I head to the bedroom in order to tackle my luggage.  The morning light is filtering through the sheer floral curtains giving the room a softer feel than it had last night. I go to grab my watch from the side table and sure enough, in bold handwriting is his phone number on a sticky note.  There’s a second note though, under a little woven bracelet with a snowflake charm.

“I found this under the curtains.  It seemed important to you, if it needs fixing let me know.  - Atticus” 

All the beads are there, but it looks like the thread has worn out again.  I am infinitely grateful that he found it for me, but I don’t need his help with it. 

And I don't need him in order to do my duty as Luna.