Family Tea
1795 Words
LUNA
“You… you’re an alpha.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, and Mal still refuses to look at me. His posture is so tense he might snap in half.
“Yes,” Selena answers instead, like she always does when he goes mute. “Mal is next in line as alpha.”
I stare at him. This guy? The guy who growls at vending machines and sulks when he loses at cards? The idea hits me so hard I start laughing—loud, uncontrollable laughter that spills out of me in hysterical waves. It’s not pretty laughter, either; it’s the kind that makes me feel unhinged. Maybe I am.
“Him?! He’s an alpha?!” I gasp between laughs. Selena shoots me a look like she’s waiting for Mal to shift into a raging bear and tear the room apart.
Instead, Mal actually laughs with me. Not polite laughter—deep, relieved, borderline manic laughter. He sinks back against the wall, shoulders shaking. Maybe he thinks if he doesn’t laugh, he’ll scream.
Selena is the only serious one here, hands on her hips, judgment radiating off her like a heat lamp. That checks out. Eldest sibling energy.
“So, what I’m hearing is that my parents are werewolves. And you’re a werewolf. And Mal is a werewolf.”
“And you’re a werewolf too, Luna,” Selena says, soft and clinical. “You’re one of us.”
My laughter stops cold. My jaw literally drops. I can almost hear it click open.
“So then… how have I not known? If I first shifted when I was ten, and that’s the only time I—” My voice dies off. The meds. The hospital. The visions.
Selena steps forward, switching into doctor mode. It’s terrifying how fast she can do it. “Your tests show multiple toxins in your system. Silver—partially suppresses a wolf’s bond with their alpha. Wolfsbane—poisons your wolf entirely. Prevents shifting. Hurts. Slowly.” She pauses, eyes flicking toward her brother. “Your parents have been poisoning you for years.”
I don’t even have time to panic before I’m bent over a wastebasket, violently emptying the tiny bit of food I had in me.
Mal is already beside me, holding the bin, bracing my back with steady hands, quietly furious.
He’s angry, and I can feel it—not like ordinary anger, but molten, ancient, territorial rage. It floods through him, almost hot enough that I think the air trembles.
After Selena leaves, Mal climbs onto the hospital bed with me like it’s the most normal thing in the world. His arm circles around my shoulders; his hand strokes my arm, calming my nerves, my body, my whole soul. Being near him feels like leaning against a warm, solid wall I didn’t realize I’ve always needed.
“How are you holding up?” he asks quietly.
“You know I hate that question,” I mutter.
“I know. But I still want to know.” His tone is soft, rare, unguarded. “I’m sorry this all fell on you at once. It’s too much. Even for us. And we grew up in it.”
His hand trails absentmindedly over my skin, slow, comforting, but also… distracting. His fingers burn.
“Mal, I don’t know who I am anymore.”
His body stiffens—just a fraction—then relaxes. I’m suddenly hyper-aware that I’m in a flimsy hospital gown and basically naked next to him. He must feel my blush because he huffs a quiet laugh against my hair.
“You’re my friend,” he says. “My best friend. And I’m not leaving.” He rests his head lightly against mine. I want to melt into the mattress.
“But what if my parents come for me?” I ask quietly. “What if they don’t care I’m gone? What if—”
“Let them come.” His voice changes—dark, predatory, the same voice from that night. “They won’t touch you as long as I’m breathing.”
I freeze.
The tone. The power. The familiarity.
“You did that,” I whisper, staring at him. “That night. We spoke. In my head.”
His cheeks flush, and he looks away, hair falling into his face. He’s embarrassed. This dangerous, terrifying boy gets embarrassed.
“You remember that,” he murmurs.
“Yes. You heard me. You answered. You were there.” Tears spill before I can stop them. “Thank you.”
He pulls me in—arms strong, protective—and kisses my forehead. It’s gentle, reverent, devastating. His head rests against mine again, heat radiating through me.
“You can always call for me. I’ll always come.”
There’s a sharp inhale from the doorway. We jerk apart. Selena stands frozen, eyes wide, face pale.
“M-Mal,” she stammers, “y-you didn’t say she was y-your—”
“It’s not time for that, Selena,” Mal snaps, voice suddenly steel. “She has enough to process.”
“Have you even told Mom and Dad yet?!”
“No, dummy. Of course not.” His tone is vicious, but it’s familiar—this is sibling banter sharpened into knives. “No one knows. And no one will. Got it?”
Selena huffs, glaring. “She has to know then. Does she know?”
“Not yet.”
“What am I supposed to know?” I ask.
That shuts them both up.
Mal walks to the window, back stiff, fists clenched. The moment he steps away, everything hurts. Not just mentally—physically. Like something in me is missing.
Selena approaches him like she’s approaching an unstable bomb. “How long have you known?”
He’s quiet, jaw tight. “Since she first got here three years ago. I thought she was human. I didn’t want to force anything on her. But she’s been in pain this whole time and I—”
“Mal, you can’t—”
He turns on her with a look so deadly it sends a thrill down my spine. A dangerous, primal thrill.
“What is going on?” I ask loudly.
Selena inhales. “It looks like… Mal is your mate.”
The world goes silent.
Selena continues, voice careful. “Mates are lifelong bonds. Wolves have one—ever. When you touch your mate, you feel sparks. When you’re apart, you feel pain. The connection is physical, emotional, and spiritual. It makes you stronger.”
“And if it doesn’t… bond?” I ask.
“Then both wolves suffer. Horribly. It can kill you, slowly. Even alphas.”
We both stare at Mal—still facing the window, shoulders trembling like he’s barely holding himself together.
Selena keeps talking, explaining rituals and age and timing, but Mal cuts in sharply.
“She’s done for today. Come back tomorrow.” His tone says he’s moments from losing control. He forces a polite “please,” shocking Selena enough that she just leaves.
And then it’s just us.
Mal turns toward me, eyes glowing gold. Yesterday, that would have terrified me. Today, it pulls heat low in my stomach.
He shuts the door. Locks it. Never breaks eye contact.
“Mal,” I whisper, “is it true? Is that what ‘mine’ meant?”
He nods, climbs into the bed with me again, and wraps me in his arms.
“Shhh,” he murmurs. “Just rest.”
“But—”
“Please.” His voice is pleading, raw.
So I stop fighting. I curl into him, let all the fear and fury drain out. We fall asleep tangled together, like that’s the only way we know how to exist.
-----
I wake up days later feeling… okay. Better than okay. Between Selena teaching me wolf politics like it’s a TV show and Mal bringing homework and sass, it almost feels normal. Safe.
We don’t talk about “mate.” Or that forehead kiss. Or the sparks. But Mal is constantly touching me—even small things: brushing hair behind my ear, fingers on my wrist, shoulder pressed to mine.
Heat follows every contact.
One afternoon, while we work on a packet together, I finally ask:
“Mal, why haven’t you said my name since that day at school?”
He goes still. Really still. Wolf-still.
“What are you talking about?” he says too casually.
“Mal. I’m not dumb. You haven’t called me Luna since you shoved me into your car.”
He puts his pencil down, rubs his face.
“I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
“Too bad. I respect your boundaries about a lot of things, but dude, you avoiding my name is weird.”
“Dude?” he says, smirking. “You haven’t called me ‘dude’ in forever.”
“Well, maybe I’ve been nervous too.”
He goes quiet. Listening. Not to me—to the hallway. Then he gets up and locks the door again. When he turns back, his eyes flicker gold and black before he forces them hazel.
He stands behind the chair, gripping it like he needs support.
“My mate is supposed to lead beside me,” he says. “When I become alpha… she becomes luna.” He swallows hard. “Of the pack.”
I process. Slowly.
“So if I’m your mate… and you’re Alpha Mal… I’d be Luna. Luna Luna?” I say, deadpan.
He nods.
I burst out laughing. He doesn’t.
“No wonder you’re a mess. My name is a cosmic joke.”
He doesn’t laugh. He just winces. “I still need to apologize. For everything. My wolf gets… possessive.”
Seeing him shy—him—is surreal. Kinda hot.
“Mal, we both screwed up. We can be chill about it. Except…”
He waits.
“The kiss.”
He freezes. Perfect.
“That’s going to haunt me forever,” he mutters.
“I’ll accept a do-over,” I say casually.
“What?”
“You heard me. The first one doesn’t count. Lockers don’t scream romance. We can do better.”
He is literally speechless.
“And you still haven’t asked me if I want to be mates or whatever. Kind of awkward, don’t you think?"
He elbows me in the arm, flustered, just like old times.
And suddenly, we’re laughing. Working. Breathing. Existing in this stupid, perfect bubble.
In these tiny moments with him—my boy, my monster, my home—everything feels right.
I don’t know who I used to be.
But I know who I want to become.
With him.
- Writer
