The Luna They Tried to Bury

In this Pack, I'm the girl with garlic under her nails and flour in her hair. I'm the girl who slips through the halls unnoticed. The one who listened more than she spoke. I'm not a warrior. I don't have a bloodline that sings of strength or a title that makes my head turn. I'm just Alison. The Cook's niece. The temporary stand-in with trembling hands and too many dreams I've shoved to the back of the pantry. So when the bond hit me, it didn't feel like fate. It felt like a cruel joke. Because how do you tell a man born of raw power that the girl standing in garlic-stained boots is his mate? You don't. You hold it in. You smile and pretend everything is fine even when it isn't. You hold onto that smile and breathe. You don't slip up. Not when his lover is sitting right beside him. Tamara. Perfect, poised, and powerful — everything I'm not. She was draped across his chair like she belonged there, like she was carved from the same stone Alpha Ryder was. And yet… her eyes flicked to me the second I walked in. She knew. She felt it too. That I was the mate. Not her. But Ryder didn't flinch. Didn't look at me twice. Because Tamara was in control. I don't know how. Maybe it was some spell. Some hold. But the mate bond couldn't reach him with her near. So I stood there, with the right of fate pressing into my bones and the scent of spices clinging to my apron, while the man the Moon Goddess made for me looked through me like I was no one. If someone had told me this morning that I'd meet my mate by sundown, I would've laughed then gone back to burning garlic like I almost did today. But there I stood, in the Alpha's office, smelling like spices and nervousness, while the bond slammed into me like a hurricane. He didn't feel it. Not yet. But I did. Every inch of my skin tingle. My wolf, quiet for so long, stirred with a sudden rush of want and recognition. And he… he didn't even flinch. He just looked at me like I was no one. Like I was exactly what I'd been told I was my whole life — ordinary. Useless. Replaceable. I cleared my throat and tucked my trembling hands behind my apron. “You asked for the cook, Alpha?” His gaze flicked over me, slow and assessing. Not in the way men sometimes looked at pretty things but more like I was part of the furniture in the office or a misplaced note in a song he didn't have time to fix. Alpha Ryder. He was taller than I'd imagined. Broad-shouldered, dark-haired, and cold. So cold. Like the kind of man born to carry power and nothing in between. Everything about him screamed control. I'd only ever seen him from a distance, and even that was rare. He didn't mingle. Wasn't the type of Alpha who'd parade around the packhouse like other Alpha's did. He ruled from the shadows — Quiet, strategic, and very, very lethal. Now, I know why the mere sound of his name made even the warriors straighten up. He moved and acted like steel. Something that no one would notice until something happened. And he was my mate. He just didn't even know I existed. “I had specific preferences for the dishes being served tonight,” he said without looking up from the papers in his hand. “I don't tolerate errors.” I nodded, even though my throat was dry. “Yes, Alpha. I was told you prefer no onions and nothing that —” “I don't like my food swimming in oil,” he cut in, still not looking at me. “I hate goat cheese and I won't touch anything that smells like rosemary.” His voice was deep. Measured. Like it had been trained never to rise, never to reveal emotion. The kind of voice you'd trust on the battlefield or in bed. I cursed myself for that thought. Get in together, Alison. “Yes, Alpha. I've already adjusted the menu.” He finally looked at me then. Really looked. And I broke. I didn't mean to. But my wolf whimpered inside me, pushing at the surface, desperate to get closer. To be near him. To touch him. But I couldn't. He didn't know. His eyes were sharp — storm-gray, almost silver under the light and piercing enough to make me forget how to breathe. My heart stuttered. He smelled like pine and leather and something ancient, like rain on stone. And yet… nothing flickered across his face. No spark. No pull. No recognition. “Your name?” He asked. “Alison.” His brows knit, just slightly. “You're not the head cook.” “She sprained her wrist this morning. I… I'm her temporary replacement.” A long pause. “Are you competent?” “I believe so?” He repeated, voice neutral. I squared my shoulders. “Yes. I am, Alpha.” Something flickered in his eyes then. Maybe surprise. Maybe approval. I didn't know. He moved around the desk, his footsteps slow, measured. I stood still, spine straight, even though every nerve in my body screamed at me to step back. When he walked past me, I held my breath. But he didn't react. No jolt. No twitch. Not even a double-take. I was just… no one. Again. He stood by the window, arms folded behind his back, watching the Pack grounds below. “This ball is political. Alpha's from several Packs are attending. Even enemies. We're not here to feast. We're here to measure each other's strength.” I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. “I want food to reflect that.” “Power,” I said quietly. “Precision. Minimalism.” He turned halfway toward me, something almost amused tugging at his lips. “Exactly.” My heart ached. He didn't even know. My mate, and I were a kitchen girl with too much garlic on her sleeves. “I'll make it perfect,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. He studied me again, head tilted just slightly. “How long have you been in this Pack?” “Six months. I came to live with my aunt. Councilwoman Farah.” His expression shifted. Just a little. “You're her niece.” “Yes.” “Strange. She talks about everyone. But she's never mentioned you.” I gave a small smile. “She says I'm her secret weapon in the kitchen.” He didn't smile back. Of course not. Ryder wasn't the smiling type. “Very well,” he said finally, turning back to his desk. “You're dismissed.” That was it. No farewell. No lingering glance. I turned on my heels and walked out, legs shaking beneath me. As soon as the door closed behind me, I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. My chest hurts. My wolf was still whining. And all I could think was, How the hell am I supposed to cook tonight when my mate doesn't even know I'm his?