Mated to the Beta, Wanted by the Alpha

Chapter 8

-IRIS-

I tried hard not to shrink under the curious stares of at least fifty pairs of eyes. And the only reason not all eyes were on me was that the food was far more interesting than my not‑werewolfy appearance.

It was late afternoon, and we were sitting at a table at the far end of the common room in the packhouse. A dozen long tables stretched across the space, all packed with wolves eating, laughing, and occasionally glancing my way. I sat between Mark and Tessa, trying to memorize the names and faces that my mate kept explaining between bites.

His bites, because I was too nervous to eat. I kept pushing food around my plate, hoping no one would notice I wasn’t actually chewing anything.

"Don’t be nervous. They don’t bite."

Heath, the pack gamma, leaned forward with a grin. Tall, blond, green‑eyed, and full‑lipped enough to make poets cry, he was as nice as he was ridiculously attractive. He sat beside Tessa, one arm casually draped behind her chair. I’d assumed they were a couple, but Tessa had shut that down so fast you’d think I’d suggested something illegal.

And Heath had just frowned and clenched his jaw.

"I’m pretty sure they all bite, Heath. Or aren’t we talking about a pack of werewolves?" I quipped.

He smiled, and for a moment, my nerves loosened. Heath was one of those people you meet and instantly like. And it wasn’t just the looks or the charm. Sitting next to Tessa, he made me feel… welcome.

"They’re just curious, that’s all. Happens every time we get a new member," he said, then shoved a massive piece of steak into his mouth. Juice dripped down his chin, and I had never seen anything so animalistic.

It was gross… but somehow sexy.

When I glanced at Tessa, her eyes were glassy, fixed on Heath’s throat as he swallowed. She looked hypnotized.

But I was pretty sure it wasn’t just curiosity aimed at me. Some of the pack members looked at me with open distaste, judgment simmering in their eyes even if they didn’t say a word.

You don’t belong here.

Especially the beautiful brunette with dark skin and tight curls. Her eyes never left mine, her perfect face twisted into a scowl.

That woman hated me with her whole soul.

"Who’s that, Mark?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"Who?" he frowned, finally noticing me after spending the last half hour engrossed in conversation with Tristan. He’d practically forgotten I existed.

"That one with the chocolate skin and Angelina Jolie’s lips." I nudged my chin toward her.

Mark followed my gaze.

And the moment he saw who I meant, something in his expression tightened—just for a second.

"That’s Tyra. Her father and mine were best friends." He paused, eyes dropping, "We used to date."

"Oh."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. It wasn’t a territorial thing. I wasn’t the type to freak out about my mate having a past. At least, I didn’t think I was.

It was the comparison between us.

She was tall. Curvy. Confident. A gorgeous she‑wolf with presence.

Everything I wasn’t.

And she was staring at me like she already knew it.

Mark squeezed my hand under the table. "It was a long time ago. It didn’t matter, really. She knew it was temporary, just until we found our mates. It lasted less than a year, and we both agreed to end it."

From the way she glared at me, she didn’t look very "over it." When Mark greeted her across the room, she smiled sweetly. But the moment he turned back to me, she grabbed a bun and tore it apart like she was imagining it was my neck.

Probably imagining it was my neck.

I gulped. "If it’s in the past, why tell me? It doesn’t matter, right?"

Mark leaned closer, his eyes flicking between mine. "I don’t want any secrets between us, even the smallest ones. Honesty is the foundation of all relationships, don’t you think?"

I did. I do.

And suddenly, hiding that moment I’d shared with Tristan as a teen felt dangerously close to betrayal.

Guilt curled in my stomach like acid. I had to tell Mark about the werewolf camp.

"Mark, there’s something I need you to know…"

I started, but I was cut short by Tristan rising to his feet.

Time for his speech.

And the strangest thing happened. He didn’t clear his throat or call for attention. He just stood, and instantly the room went silent. Every gaze snapped at him.

Their king was about to speak, and no one dared miss a single word.

"Good evening, people of the Redclaw pack. I want to thank you all for joining me for this wonderful meal."

His eyes swept the room, softening. These were his people, and it showed. Warm smiles bloomed everywhere like daisies in spring. They adored their Alpha.

"I also want to thank our kitchen staff for the delicious dishes. Tomorrow, I expect everyone on the training grounds to work off the pounds we gained tonight."

He joked, and the room burst into laughter. It was the first time I'd seen the composed Alpha crack a joke, and it was... nice. My cheeks pulled into a satisfied grin before I could stop them.

"But all of this was granted," he continued. "Because tonight, I'd like to introduce you to our newest pack member. She's an outstanding teacher, an award-winning educator, a literacy specialist, and the creative mind behind the Community Storytelling Lab, a program now used across three districts."

I blushed like a tomato, ducking behind my white hair. I’d never told anyone about the Community Storytelling Lab. I started it during my doctorate at Columbia, but I never took credit for it. I hadn’t even told Mark. How Tristan found out was beyond me.

"We're very lucky to have her join our pack." His eyes found mine, warm enough to stop my lungs from working. "Please welcome Iris O'Hara."

The room erupted in applause. Even the nasty Tyra clapped, though one brow was raised in suspicion.

Only then did I realize Tristan hadn't mentioned I was his Beta's mate.

Welcome to our pack, Iris, Tristan's deep voice rumbled through my mind, sending a zing down my spine.

Thank you, Alpha, I answered through the mind-link.

It felt so strangely intimate, his eyes locking onto mine across the room. And when he closed the link, I almost whined.

I needed to get a grip. This was not how a mated woman was supposed to behave around any male other than her mate.

The dinner finally ended, and people began drifting home. A few lingered in the room, swapping seats and sinking into conversations, idly toying with tiny cups of coffee or digestifs. Tessa had already slipped out, Heath beside her with her sleepy toddler draped over his shoulder. Mark was busy socializing and, once again, leaving me behind like I was part of the fancy wallpaper.

I muttered an excuse, overwhelmed and desperate to escape. Mark barely acknowledged me, too absorbed in a heated argument about the origins of the Blight. I darted toward the bathroom, slipping down a hallway off the common room.

I only wanted to wash my face before heading back to my small cottage, far away from this pretentious mansion.

But strangely, my legs kept moving on their own when I passed the bathroom door, carrying me farther down the hall as it curved to the right.

My feet stopped in front of a wide set of open double doors, and I found myself staring into the most wonderful place I had ever seen.

The library.

It was the complete opposite of the rest of the packhouse. White shelves stretched up two stories, tall windows flooding the room with light despite the night outside. Thousands upon thousands of books lined the walls, their beautiful, worn spines arranged like a collector’s treasure. Upholstered chairs and soft gray sofas paired with wooden tables, and the air smelled of paper, office supplies, and nutmeg. The whole space felt like a constant, gentle embrace.

It was perfect.

At the center, a large hearth glowed warmly, making the room even cozier. And standing before it, his back to me, was Tristan.

He was still in his white shirt, but somehow he looked even more regal than he had at dinner. The firelight made him glow, outlining his features as if he were an apparition.

Something fluttered in my stomach, and I took a silent step back. I didn't want to intrude.

"Come closer, Iris." His head turned sideways. "We need to talk."