Alpha Omega

My Pack

Dominic P.O.V

I watch Kiya intently, seeing her internal battle. My Little Lady has spent her whole life looking out for herself. She's taught herself how to fight and lived by her own rules which, I suppose in the Omega circle was enough. As a Royal Luna, she'll need to learn how to live by an entirely new set of rules. If anyone knows how hypocritical some of those rules are, it's me, but she's going to have to learn how to navigate the upper class of wolves. Right now, she can't do that on her own. I fear that if she tries, she'll get hurt, and so will my brother and I. 

I see her fight down the urge to argue with me. She lowers her head, "Yes, Alpha." 

I hold back a groan hearing her address me as alpha. I want so badly to pull her back into me but I know that is we start up again, we won't be able to stop. Tyron's heat filled eyes are encouragement enough for me to tap Kiya on the butt, "Good. Now jump up, it's past lunch." 

Kiya slides off my lap and Ty and I stand with her, heading out to the kitchen. We rarely ever use the kitchen. It's more of a storage area for Ice-cream, leftovers, alcohol and late night snacks. My mother wouldn't be caught dead cooking and father doesn't have time to do much but order food from the kitchens downstairs. Safe to say Tyron and I never learned, not that we really cared to learn to cook. 

Kiya starts checking out all the cupboards and looking in the fridge, ticking softly. "Everything in here is either junk or two week-old leftovers." She says with her head buried in the fridge.

  She starts pulling out leftovers from the fridge. Half-eaten burgers and pasta and cardboard containers holding who-knows-what as well as a decent amount of leftover fast food. Don't blame me, most of that is Ty who has some stupid idea that he'll get back to it later and then forget about his dozen McNuggets in the fridge. Kiya pauses over the counter of old food containers, eyeing me up and down before looking back at the junk food. "You know, you should lay off on the grease, you're not going to be twenty-one forever. Besides, I heard it contributes to baldness and I'm not mating to anyone who's scalp shines under the sun." 

Ty laughs, skirting around the counter to wrap her in his arms, "I'll be sure to tell my father you said McDonald's is the cause of his, what did you call it? Receding Hairline." 

Her chuckle echoes around the small room, "Please do." She says with a firm nod of her head before breaking free of him. 

She winks at me before returning to the fridge and making another pile of leftovers. When she's done, she starts up the stove that hasn't been used since Gerlinda, our nanny, used it to warm up milk bottles for Ty and me as babies. Ty recedes from the small space to sit on a bar stool beside me at the kitchen Island as we watch her flit about the kitchen. She heats up leftover chicken in the microwave and pulls out sliced bread which she sets on the pan to toast it before taking out one of my mother's leftover salads and spreading it over the bread with olive oil. As she's waiting for the chicken to heat up, she starts sliding all the older containers of food into a trash bag without stopping to look at what's inside it. 

"You guys need more vegetables in here. I've never exactly been one to preach green but you guys HAVE to have something that hasn't been processed already. It's downright unnatural." 

I chuckle, "It's not like we spend our Sunday afternoons grocery shopping." 

She huffs as she pulls out the chicken and places the finishing touches on our sandwiches and I finish clearing the old food from the Island.

 "Voila! I'm not a chef but I've got sandwiches down to an 80% success rate of avoiding food poisoning. Good luck. And I know you don't do grocery shopping. The pack kitchen gets deliveries every Wednesday and on Saturdays me and my friends go out to restock on perishables. Basically bread, milk, veggies and fruit."