Chapter 24 Back at Home
Back at Home
Skyla
I sit at the little kitchen table, my fingers brushing over the clean bandage taped against my neck.
It tugs when I swallow, but it’s nothing compared to before.
I also have a tiny square Band-Aid on my upper arm—two shots.
One for tetanus and one for some super-strong antibiotic the doctor insisted on.
My body feels kind of heavy, but my chest feels lighter somehow.
Can I really make this work with this pack?
Would they really love me even if I couldn't bond with them?
I decide not to think about it for now. After all, they won’t become restless to mark me for another month or two. Maybe I’ll get lucky and my heat will start before then. Maybe a mental bond will form this time.
Maybe.
Across the kitchen, Tadeo and Dakota are a sight. Tadeo’s trying to cook some fancy Spanish dish, but his knife work is all over the place. Onions are in lopsided chunks, the peppers are sliced too thick, and the tomatoes are smashed instead of chopped.
The pan hisses and spits like it’s offended by Tadeo’s choices, flames licking high because he’s cranked the burner way too hot. Every few seconds he mutters something sharp in Spanish, jabbing at the knobs like he can argue the stove into behaving.
He looks almost too good for this messy chaos—tight black slacks fitted perfectly over his sculpted legs, a crisp white shirt rolled up his forearms, and his blue tie tugged loose around his throat.
My eyes catch on the muscles shifting beneath his skin as he works.
The faint cords of veins along his forearms have me all kinds of frustrated, and I have to look away before I get caught staring.
I had no idea watching a man cook could get me so hot and bothered.
Dakota, meanwhile, isn’t helping in the slightest. He leans against the counter in nothing but a pair of black gym shorts.
The beta isn’t as cut as an alpha, but he’s still strong and trim with broad shoulders, and faint lines of abs are like shadows across his stomach. For a beta, he’s ridiculously fit.
“That looks really good,” Dakota says as he glances over Tadeo’s shoulder.
The beta is acting like he’s supervising, but really he’s just popping ingredients into his mouth whenever Tadeo’s back is turned. A piece of cheese disappears between his teeth. Then half a tomato slice. Then a strip of bell pepper.
It’s kinda sweet.
And I can’t stop smiling at them—the mess, the bickering, the way Dakota’s eyes gleam when Tadeo finally notices he’s stolen something. My chest goes warm and soft as I watch.
And for the first time in longer than I can remember, I relax.
The sizzle from the pan and Dakota’s laugh fill the air, but the sound of boots on tile cuts straight through it. I look up right as Alex steps into the kitchen. His gaze flickers over Tadeo and Dakota—barely sparing them a second glance—before locking onto me.
Then he smiles and his eyes narrow. He looks like a man on a mission.
He strolls across the kitchen, easy and unhurried, the kind of walk that makes the air bend around him.
He brushes past his packmates without a single glance and drops into the chair beside me.
The metal groans under his weight, and suddenly he’s leaning close, citrus scent and spice and shameless flirty energy radiating off him.
“So,” he says, resting one elbow on the table as he leans in toward me. “Come here often?”
A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it. It’s sharp and loud, echoing in the little kitchen. It shocks me almost as much as it shocks everyone else. But I can’t help it. There’s something about Alex that makes me feel lighter.
I press my lips together, still grinning, but he doesn’t let me off the hook. His dark blue eyes are bright and filled with mischief.
“Well.” I tilt my head, pretending to think about it. “I live here.”
Alex’s smile deepens, turning wicked, and then his fingertips brush the outside of my arm. Just the barest touch, tracing the edge of the tiny Band-Aid like it’s lace or silk instead of drugstore plastic. For some silly reason, it makes the air catch in my lungs.
“Perfect,” he murmurs, voice gone low and smooth. “Can I buy you a drink, then?”
His little game is so ridiculous it almost knocks another laugh right out of me. But I nod, my chest fluttering. “I’d love a drink.”
Alex leans back, smug as sin, and snaps his fingers without even looking away from me. “Barkeep!” His voice booms like he’s ordering from the stage of some ancient theater. “A glass of your most expensive whiskey, if you please.”
Dakota jumps like he’s been waiting his whole life for this cue. He yanks a hand towel off the counter, a spoon clattering to the floor in the process, and flips the towel over his shoulder with all the gravitas of a trained bartender.
“Yes, sir!” he says, deep and formal, bowing at Alex.
My eyes widen. “Wait—” Panic flares in my chest. I pray they aren’t actually getting me whiskey. I tried it once, and it felt like swallowing fire straight from hell.
But Dakota doesn’t reach for the liquor cabinet. Instead, he swings the fridge door open, rummages around, and emerges triumphantly with a plastic jug of apple juice. He holds it aloft like a prize.
I lose it. The laugh that tears out of me is pure and helpless, bubbling up until I’m covering my mouth with my hands, trying to contain it.
And Alex—he just watches me, that proud, satisfied grin on his face like this was exactly what he came here for.
Dakota unscrews the cap with a dramatic twist and pours the apple juice into a bright green plastic cup—the kind with faded cartoon dinosaurs on the side from God knows when. He lifts it like it’s a crystal glass, wrist angled all fancy, and turns toward me.
But before he can present it, Tadeo clears his throat. “Hold it.”
Dakota freezes mid-step, eyebrows shooting up.
“You forgot the garnish,” Tadeo speaks so flat and serious, that Dakota blinks, confused.
The young alpha turns and opens the nearest drawer, digging around, before coming up victorious.
In his hand is a neon pink straw, spiraled and bouncy like a spring, bright.
He drops it into the cup with surgical precision.
Then he looks Dakota dead in the eye, completely stone-faced. “You may now serve the lady.”
Dakota’s back snaps ramrod straight, his hand slapping against his forehead in a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”
He pivots on his heel and approaches me like he’s delivering the crown jewels. The cup lands in front of me with all the pomp of a five-star restaurant.
I straighten in my chair like I’m at some high-end gala instead of a wobbly kitchen table with mismatched chairs. I’m still smiling like an idiot, but my posture’s perfect as I fold my hands primly in my lap, then I nod at Dakota.
“Thank you, sir,” I say in the most formal voice I can manage.
Dakota beams, stepping back with a little bow.
I lift the bright green cup, straw bobbing, and take a sip.
Sweetness floods my tongue. Nothing like whiskey, nothing sharp or biting—just cold and sugary.
But Alex isn’t watching the cup. His eyes are on my mouth, dark and heavy, lingering on my lips like every slow pull of juice through the straw is a sin he’s desperate to commit.
My skin heats under that gaze, and I have to swallow twice before I can breathe again.
“How is it?” Alex whispers, voice pitched low and rough like we’re the only two people in the world.
The room tilts warm and my tongue suddenly feels a little too big in my mouth, but I manage to say, “It’s the best whiskey I’ve ever had.”
Dakota slaps the counter with his palm. “Damn right it is. Only the best from our finest barrel.” Then he pauses, frowning as his head tips toward Tadeo. “That’s right, isn’t it? Whiskey comes from barrels?”
Tadeo glances up from the stove, a soft, amused smile tugging at his mouth. He nods once, but he looks like he’d agree with Dakota no matter what nonsense came out of the beta’s mouth.
“Fuck, it smells good in here.” Knox breezes into the room, crossing the kitchen in long strides as he slides right behind Tadeo. His big hand settles low on Tadeo’s hip, possessive but casual, and he hums, deep in his chest. “I’m starving.”
Tadeo tilts his chin back toward him. “It’s carne con tomate.” He speaks with a rich Spanish accent that rolls over the name of the dish like honey. It’s the kind of sound that makes my thighs press together.
Alex, still lounging beside me, finally turns to Knox. “You talk to Marc? Is he good with me quitting now, or does he need me until he can get a replacement?”
“It’s fine.” Knox gives a little wave of his hand as he moves to Dakota, kissing the beta before pulling him in for a warm hug. “There’s a job I might need you for next week, but Tony said he’d take over all your other shifts until we find someone permanent.”
“You quit your job?” I ask Alex, and he nods like he couldn’t be happier.
“Yup. From now on, you’re stuck with me and Dakota all day.” His smile widens, bright and easy.
I want to be happy for him, but a part of me worries he’ll get bored. Alphas love to work. They’re nothing without their careers—or at least, that’s what Brayden used to say.
“What did you do for work?” I ask.
“I’m a transport specialist,” Alex says, and Knox snorts loudly.
“What’s that?” I ask, leaning in.
“Knox and I work for a moving company,” he says. “We haul heavy boxes and furniture all over town, unload them, and repeat.”
“That actually sounds kind of nice,” I say, smiling. “You get to move around all day, and you’re not stuck behind a desk. I bet you’ve seen every corner of town by now.”
Alex grins at me, eyes bright with that spark he always gets when he’s teasing but means it underneath. “You’re kind for saying that,” he says, voice dipping just a little. “But trust me, it’s boring as hell.”