Chapter 17 – MICAH
Chapter
Seventeen
MICAH
" O bjectively speaking, pepperoni with extra cheese is a classic for a reason," I say, gesturing to the delivery app on my phone that has enough options we’ve had analysis paralysis for the past fifteen minutes. "It's reliable. Everyone likes it."
Sean snorts from his position sprawled across our couch. "Boring as hell, you mean. Buffalo chicken with jalapenos would blow her mind."
“Or burn her taste buds off,” Rowan counters. “Vegetable supreme has variety without being a fucking fire hazard.”
"Supreme is for people who can't make decisions," Sean fires back, snatching the phone out of my hands and placing the order himself. “We’ll just get everything.”
I catch Killian's eye with a warning look.
We're all wound tighter than springs, trying to contain the manic energy that's been building since we found our mate.
Killian especially. After our Bonded agreed to come stay with us—even temporarily— he pulled us aside for a lecture that would make drill sergeants weep.
"Listen up," he'd growled once Regina was safely upstairs in her new room.
"She's not like us. She's been through hell.
She's skittish and traumatized and the last thing she needs is four overeager, young alpha wolves bombarding her with.
.. whatever this is." He had gestured vaguely at Sean, who was literally vibrating with excitement.
"No overwhelming her. No crowding her. No sexual innuendos. "
That last part was directed pointedly at Sean.
We all promised we’d behave, which is why we're now channeling our nervous energy into the Great Pizza Debate of 2025 instead of pestering our mate.
Our mate.
The words still feel surreal in my head.
When we hear tires crunching on our gravel driveway in the distance, we all jump up at the same time. Our hearing is sensitive even in our human forms.
Sean almost kills Rowan charging to the door. "I'll get it!"
“False alarm, the car was just turning around. But when it comes, anyone but you can get it,” Killian intercepts him smoothly. “The last time you answered the door for food delivery, you traumatized the poor kid.”
"How was I supposed to know he was afraid of dogs?" Sean protests.
"Maybe because no one is expecting a giant wolf to answer the door with a wad of cash in his mouth," Rowan says dryly.
"Hey, it was a good tip."
"Yeah, and soggy," Rowan counters.
I'm about to add my own comment when movement on the stairs catches my eye. I turn and feel my breath catch in my throat.
Regina stands on the landing, watching us with an expression I can't quite read. Her glamour is still in place, hiding the scars we all caught glimpses of last night. Part of me wishes she didn't feel the need to hide them around us, but I understand. Trust has to be earned.
"Is that the pizza?" she asks, her voice soft but steady.
The room goes silent. Four sets of wolf eyes turn toward her with an intensity that I’m sure crosses the line from attentive to creepy. I mentally kick myself. Way to be normal.
Sean recovers first. “Just about! The map says the delivery guy’s getting close.” He flashes his most charming grin. "Want a beer?"
Rowan makes a disapproving noise. "She's a siphon," he says under his breath. "She doesn't want beer ."
Regina hesitates. "Actually," she says, "I'd love a beer."
Sean pumps his fist triumphantly. “Fuck yeah!” He vaults clean over the back of the couch, sending our ugliest lamp crashing to the floor. The lamp we all hate. It survives, of course. "Coming right up!"
The doorbell rings. Killian shakes his head and goes to answer, while Rowan gives me a subtle nod toward the living room.
Right. Make her comfortable.
"We cleared some space on the couch," I say, gesturing to the section we hurriedly decluttered when we got home. "Or if you'd prefer the armchair..."
"Couch is fine," Regina says, descending the rest of the stairs. She moves cautiously, like someone entering unknown territory. Which I guess is exactly what this is.
Sean returns with not one beer but an entire six-pack, looking absurdly proud of himself. "Options," he announces. "IPA, lager, stout, and whatever this fruity shit is that Rowan drinks."
"It's a Belgian lambic," Rowan sighs, "and it's aged in wine barrels."
Regina's lips curl into a small smile that makes my heart do a weird flip. "Lager works for me."
I settle on the couch, careful to leave plenty of space between us.
Despite my best efforts to play it cool, I can't help watching her from the corner of my eye.
Her scent fills the room, that intoxicating mixture of old magic and forest that makes my wolf whine with want.
It's taking every bit of self-control I possess not to lean closer and huff her in.
Killian returns with a tower of pizza boxes and a bag of drinks, the delivery guy's eyes still visible through the crack in the door as it closes, wide and alarmed at the sheer quantity of food.
"Okay," he announces, setting the boxes on the coffee table. "Let the feast begin."
"You guys got... eight different pizzas?" Regina looks between the boxes and us with dawning amusement.
"We couldn't agree," Sean explains, rubbing the back of his head. “So we got one of each.”
"That seems..." She pauses. “Diplomatic, I guess.”
"We're a democracy," Sean grins, grabbing the box on top. "A democracy that recognizes my buffalo chicken jalapeno masterpiece is going to win."
"In your dreams," Killian snorts.
What follows is possibly the most simultaneously wonderful and torturous meal of my life.
Wonderful because Regina is here, in our house, eating our food, occasionally even smirking a little at our banter.
Torturous because every wolf in the room is trying so hard not to overwhelm her that the restraint is practically visible in the air.
Sean in particular looks like he might explode. I've known him since freshman year, and I've never seen him this disciplined. He only makes three bad jokes, which for him is practically monastic.
"So, what's your verdict?" I ask as Regina finishes sampling each pizza. "Which one wins?"
She considers, taking a sip of her beer. "I think they're all good in different ways."
"Oh, come on," Sean groans. "That's a copout."
Reinga frowns, but there's a glimmer of frustrated amusement in her eyes.
"That is pretty diplomatic," Killian observes, a smile playing at his lips.
"Sean has a point," Rowan says. "We need a clear winner here."
Regina sighs dramatically. "Fine. The buffalo chicken with jalapenos. It has a nice kick."
The three of us collectively groan. Sean, on the other hand, lets out a fucking whoop. He's never been a gracious loser, but as a winner, he's downright insufferable.
"Knew it! Who's the pizza champ?"
"There'll be no living with him now," Rowan says dryly, taking a sip of his fancy foreign beer.
Regina laughs.
It’s the most magical sound I've ever heard. A sound I immediately decide to devote my life to hearing as much as possible. Judging from the way the others fall silent, even Sean mid-preening, they're having the same experience.
The conversation flows surprisingly easily after that.
We keep it light—campus geography, local restaurants, nothing too personal or heavy.
I find myself studying Regina when she's not looking my way.
The tiny crease between her brows when she's thinking.
The way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she's about to speak.
The cautious animation that enters her voice when she talks about something that interests her.
At one point, she mentions needing to change her phone number, and Sean perks up like a hunting dog spotting prey.
"Hey! We should add you to the pack group chat," he says enthusiastically.
Regina hesitates. "Group chat…?”
"It's how we communicate when we're not together," I explain. "Class schedules, pack business, memes. Mostly memes, if I'm honest."
" So many memes," Rowan confirms with a long-suffering sigh. "And occasionally, unsolicited dick pics from Sean."
"Hey! That was one time and it was an accident!" he bellows.
"How do you accidentally send a dick pic?" Regina asks warily.
"Oh. I uh?—"
"He was trying to send it to his doctor," I chime in before Sean can come up with a lie. “He thought his knot wasn’t going to go down.”
"Traitor," Sean mutters under his breath. "For the record, it?—"
Regina holds up a hand. “Nope, that's okay. I really don't need to know.”
"Fair," Sean says, taking another swig of his beer.
"I guess it would make sense to have each other's numbers, at least until I can get a new one," she says carefully. "As long as there are absolutely zero dick pics."
"Deal," Sean says enthusiastically.
Regina pulls her phone from her pocket, unlocking it and offering it to Killian. "Here."
"Sweet!" Sean crows. "We just scored our mate's number!"
“ Potential mate,” Regina corrects him.
Killian rolls his eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t get stuck that way. "Ignore him," he tells Regina, adding his number.
I take her phone next, since I'm closest, and send myself a text so I have her number. "Done. I'll add you to the chat later."
"Thanks." She takes her phone back, our fingers brushing ever so slightly. The contact sends a jolt through me that I try my best to hide. From the way her eyes widen slightly, I think she felt it too.
An awkward silence falls, charged with everything none of us want to address directly.
Well, the four of us might want to, but we know better. She needs time and space to process everything. We might suck at “time and space,” but we need to try.
Finally, Killian clears his throat.
"So, about breaking your coven bond," he begins carefully. "When did you want to try that?”
Regina's expression tightens slightly. "Soon," she says. "But I have a little time. Villeneuve gave me an elixir that helps replenish my energy temporarily."
"You took a magic drink from the sketchiest guy on campus?" Rowan blurts out, sounding even more judgmental than usual, which is… saying something.
"He means that in the most inoffensive way possible," I say, hoping to soften it.
She blinks, surprised. “Villeneuve? He isn’t sketchy. He was nothing but helpful to me.”
Killian makes a sound that's half snort, half growl. "He has ulterior motives."
"What do you actually know about him?" Regina challenges, her gaze direct now.
We all exchange glances.
"Well, he claims to be a vampire-shifter hybrid," I begin.
"Which is bullshit," Killian interjects. "Bastard walks around in the sun without any enchanted jewelry or ink, as far as I've seen."
"He doesn't smell like anything identifiable, either," Rowan adds. "Which is... unusual."
"He's also got a fetish for busting our balls," Sean grumbles.
“And he has wards around his house powerful enough to physically repel wolves, specifically,” I finish. "Which isn't exactly standard professor equipment."
Regina arches an eyebrow. “That's it? That's your evidence that he's 'sketchy'? That you don’t know what he is?”
"He just is," Killian insists. "My senses have never been wrong about this shit."
I can't help rolling my eyes. "Killian just has a vendetta against him because Villeneuve failed his midterm paper sophomore year."
"That isn’t why!" Killian looks genuinely offended. "And that paper deserved at least a B minus.”
"It really didn't," Rowan murmurs under his breath. " Rolling Stone is not an academic source."
Regina looks between us, amusement tugging at her lips again. “Well, whatever your history with him is, he gave me sanctuary when I needed it, information when I asked for it, and didn't pressure me about anything.”
"Fair enough," I say, holding my palms up. I don’t trust Villeneuve as far as I can throw him, but I can't argue with her experience. Hell, for all I know, he only has issues with wolf shifters and doesn’t care about witches. "Just be careful."
"I will," she promises, then stifles a yawn. "Speaking of which, I should probably get some rest. Thank you for the pizza—and the beer."
"Of course," Killian says instantly. "And if you need anything?—"
"Just yell," she finishes for him with a small smile. "I know. Thanks."
We all watch as she stands, gathering her plate and empty bottle. Sean jumps up to take them from her hands. "I got it," he insists. "You're our guest."
"Thanks." She nods to all of us. “Um… good night."
"Good night," we say together, staring after her as she climbs the stairs.
None of us move until we hear her bedroom door close.
The silence that follows feels weighted, significant. And in a house with four alpha wolves, silence is usually as rare as humility. But now it stretches between us, none of us wanting to break it.
I stare at the space where she was sitting, her scent still lingering in the air.
Something has shifted with her arrival. Something fucking huge .
It feels like we've been waiting for her without knowing it, like pieces of a puzzle we didn’t know was busted up are finally sliding into place.
But the picture isn't complete yet. There's still so much we don't know about her, so much we need to learn.
"She liked my pizza best," Sean finally says, his voice triumphant but unusually somber.
None of us bother to argue. The competition seems meaningless now. Because even though she's upstairs and not fully part of the pack yet, we all feel it. That sense of walking on thin ice. One wrong move and everything could shatter.
Our mate is here.
Under our roof.
Almost within reach.
And none of us want to be the one who scares her away.