Chapter 21 Mona
My neck aches from sleeping all crumpled up.
Between the nightmare, which has been playing on repeat in my mind like a movie reel, sleeping in the armchair, and scenting my two alphas just outside the door all night—doing god knows what, but they didn't knock or come in—by morning, I'm hungry, cranky, and running on fumes.
I peel myself from the chair, joints cracking as I stretch my arms toward the ceiling. I feel like shit.
We would be better rested if we slept with our alphas.
"Right," I say with a yawn, ignoring the way my omega perks up.
Like I'm going anywhere near that. Two is two more than I'm used to dealing with, and nothing Grayson said last night reassured me or explained how this arrangement is supposed to work.
After using the bathroom, careful not to look at the door at the end of the hall, I get dressed in the same clothes Orion found for me yesterday. But Beep just won't leave well enough alone.
If you won't sleep with them and allow them to refuel you, then at least spend time with them today. We need to practice shifting. Touch will help. Being near them will help.
"Are you seriously suggesting I fuck them so their magical alpha cum will refuel me? What is wrong with you? I barely know them." I glare up at the ceiling since there's no mirror handy. "Seriously, you sound insane."
I said sleep. But if you would like to mate with them, I encourage copulation. Bonding sooner will only improve our shifting abilities.
"Jesus, Beep. What is your deal? It is way too early for this."
She ignores my question—of course she does.
Resigned to get on with the day, I open the door slowly, half-expecting to find an alpha hovering.
Voices drift from the kitchen as I head downstairs.
When I hear tires crunch on the gravel, I split off toward the front door and swing it open, happy to find Doc climbing out of his vintage red truck.
"Good morning, Mona. How are you today?" Doc's smile crinkles the corners of his eyes, and he reaches out to clasp both my hands in his.
My dad never hugged me growing up. Even as a child. I got ready for school by myself. Used the crumpled bills left on the counter for lunch. Got the occasional stiff pat on the back before he nudged me toward the school bus. Never hugs. Never warmth.
The wolves in Silent Peak give touch freely, and I'm beginning to crave it. It's that thought that makes me pull away and cross my arms tight against my chest. "I'm good, Doc. How are you?"
"It's a marvelous day." He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.
His nostrils flare as he inhales deeply, a serene look crossing his face.
It's as if he's drawing in my scent, and for a brief moment, something shifts inside me—my omega, spreading warmth outward from my core, melting tension I didn't realize I was holding.
This is what it means to be an omega, Beep explains.
Before the moment stretches too long, before I have time to overthink it, he blinks, then lifts a paper bag. "I brought breakfast."
Grateful for the distraction, I reach out, take the bag and thank him. My stomach growls as I savor the rich scent of venison and herbs. He chuckles while I dig in, biting into the thick cut of meat stuffed between two slices of homemade bread before we're even back inside.
Grayson appears over my shoulder as we walk into the living room.
"I already made you breakfast," he complains. He's six-and-a-half-feet tall, his biceps are nearly the size of my head—dark and looming, with barely contained dominant alpha energy crackling the air around him.
And yet, his brows knit together, eyes softening with such earnestness, like a disappointed puppy that he didn't get to feed me. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling and mumble an apology.
"So, what's up?" I ask Doc between bites.
"I wanted to check in on you, see how you were healing. And to invite you down to the cafeteria, so you know where it is. Get a feel for the land. Maybe introduce you to some of our residents."
"Mind your lane, Edgar," Grayson grits.
I roll my eyes at Grayson and turn to Doc. "Sure, that sounds great."
The old man winks at me. I hold up the bag, offering to share, but he shakes his head. Neither seems surprised that I'm practically inhaling the food like a starving animal, so I try not to be too embarrassed.
I went too long without it. The weight of real food in my belly is almost decadent.
"I'll show her around later. And there's no rush to introduce her to everyone. She's not ready for that." Grayson crosses his thick arms across his chest, muscles straining against his black t-shirt, momentarily distracting me from the food. I swallow slowly and tear my eyes away.
"I thought I heard you made some big announcement to all the enforcers about re-training. You'll be busy. I'm happy to spend the day with Mona."
Grayson mutters a curse, while Doc remains unfazed. I keep stuffing my face as they argue back and forth over what's best for me.
Eventually I tune them out and wander to the open front door. An odd spring of anxiety tightens my chest as I look outside. Beep perks up, but doesn't sense any threats.
It's bright out. The birds are chirping. The air is pristine—so different from the city or the suburbs where I wasted the last few months.
It's a great big world outside that door, and I know how cruel it can be. I set down the empty bag and glance at Doc and Grayson, still arguing. Then I turn back to the doorway.
If I concentrate, I can scent other wolves on the land—faintly—that gamey blend of magic and animal.
And the land itself. The wind carries pollen from thousands of wildflowers.
Lupines. Hawkwood, milkweed and clover. There're field mice and rabbits, foxes, wildcats, moose.
Fresh streams full of trout, bass and pike.
We're far enough north, high enough on the mountain, that I can still feel the cool bite of recently melted ice on the caps.
But at this elevation, it's warm and everything is fresh and beautiful.
They call this place Silent Peak. It's anything but silent. Under different circumstances, I think I would have loved it here.
Yesterday, I told Doc I wanted to go to the Bahamas and live on a beach. But that was fresh off getting my ass beat.
Since then, I've gained two mates, a bedroom in a cabin in the woods, and more food than will fit in my belly. With some time and space… maybe I can love it here. Under these circumstances.
It's that thought that has me charging back toward Doc and Grayson, interrupting their heated debate about my future.
"Let's do it, Doc. I'm ready." I'm tempted to grab his arm and drag him outside, but he chuckles and waves his hand in the air.
"I appreciate the enthusiasm, but let me look you over first."
"You said I was healing fine?"
"Yes, but I want to be sure. Omega healing is slow. Come, let me see that eye, and I want to check your ribs."
I stand still while Doc prods at the stitches on my face.
My injuries look and feel significantly better than yesterday, but that doesn't stop Grayson from overreacting, even worse than Orion.
He huffs and growls, snapping at Doc to be more careful every time I flinch.
I can't help it, my omega fucking glows at his attention, even though it's way over-the-top.
Is this what it's like to have mates—someone who simply notices and cares that you're hurt?
Doc ignores his grumbling, though, running his thumb over the nearly healed cuts, assessing my hands. He has me stretch my foot out and flex my toes.
"Any pain? Numbness?"
"No. I feel amazing, actually. The food helps."
Proximity to your mates is what helps, Beep adds.
I grit my teeth and change the subject. "Doc, why do I still have Silas's bite scars when everything else heals completely?
It's been nearly six months, shouldn't they be gone by now?
" I tug my collar, revealing the half-moons, then pull up my shirt sleeve.
A dozen marks, slightly raised, paler than my skin, and they look years old, not months.
The air electrifies. Doc and I freeze, and what I'm now learning is alpha power—pheromones, raw and primal—slams into us like a battering ram.
Grayson's chest expands, shoulders swelling as he huffs and tries to regain control, but he can't contain it, and his dominance radiates off of him in suffocating waves.
I've never thought of myself as submissive, but the urge to bend my knees, to drop to the ground, is overwhelming.
My omega whines, pulsing out of my chest, as if to say, Go to him. Help him. I can feel his pain. His anguish.
"That fucking—" Grayson's roar drowns out everything. He whirls and drives his fist through the wall, making me jump. The wood splinters, layers exploding outwards when he pulls his hand back—insulation, foam, wiring. A painting crashes to the floor, glass shatters.
"Grayson!" Doc snaps.
Orion materializes from the kitchen, scanning me, the mess, and the heaving alpha's bloody knuckles. Orion calmly circles the destruction, positioning himself beside me like a shield.
"Are you alright, Mona?" His voice is gentle, and I take a step closer. At the invitation, he wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me in. A vibration rumbles from his chest. A purr.
My omega draws strength from the steady hum.
She sways toward Grayson, too, but I force myself to settle into Orion's support.
While I haven't decided what I'm going to do about being their mate, I let myself take what he's offering.
His hazelnut scent grows earthier, more potent, and I let it wash over me.
Feeling more stable, I look up, only to catch a glimpse of Grayson's retreating back. Disappointment isn't new to me, but for some reason, it feels a little bit like rejection. My throat constricts as I swallow back what feels dangerously close to tears. I can't even blame my omega for it.