The Alpha's Naughty Christmas

8: Dinner with the Pack

8: Dinner with the Pack

Zolani’s POV

The dinner spread out in front of me like a sinful buffet designed by the devil himself .

Platters of perfectly seared steaks dripping with juices that made my mouth water, roasted root vegetables glazed in honey and herbs, fresh breads still steaming, exotic salads with colors I didn’t even have names for, and desserts piled high like they were daring me to dive in face-first.

God, I was a foodie through and through, back home I’d have stuffed myself until I couldn’t move, moaning over every bite like it was foreplay. This should have been heaven.

But I couldn’t. Not really.

I was surrounded by at least fourteen werewolves, Aradia’s closest relatives, she’d said with a casual wave and apparently this was the “small” pre-wedding gathering.

More was coming tomorrow and I believed her. These people ate like they hunted for sport and f****d like it was an Olympic event but they are always there for each other.

My own family dinners? Dry chicken, overboiled vegetables, and Mom praying over every plate like the food might sprout horns if she didn’t bless it hard enough. No wonder I was starving for something with actual flavor.

I cut into the steak, medium-rare, pink and juicy and took a bite.

Holy s**t.

The meat melted on my tongue, rich and smoky, seasoned with something dark and wild that made me want to shove the whole damn plate into my mouth and hump the table for good measure.

But I couldn’t, not with fourteen pairs of glowing eyes potentially watching my every move. Not when I was already the fragile human in a room full of predators who could probably smell how turned on I’d been since I entered here.

I chewed slowly, politely, like the good girl I was supposed to be.

My gaze drifted again to the empty chair at the head of the table.

Cassian Blackthorne’s chair.

Aradia had announced it casually halfway through appetizers, “Dad’s got urgent pack business, some rogue bullshit on the border. Won’t be back for twenty-four hours.”

Relief should have flooded me cause that meant safety, distance and a chance to breathe without that dark spice scent making my p***y clench every five seconds.

Instead, disappointment hit me like a slap to the c**t.

I hated myself for it.

I came here for Aradia. For her wedding. For snow and laughter and being the best maid of honor in history. So why the f**k was I sulking because the murdering Alpha daddy wasn’t here to eye-f**k me across the table?

“Zee… you okay? You’re poking that steak like it owes you money.” Aradia leaned in, pouring me a glass of some deep red juice that smelled like berries and sin.

Her eyes were soft, worried, full of that fierce love that always made my chest tight. “Feeling any discomfort?”

Guilt twisted harder. Aradia loved me fiercely, protectively, like a sister with claws. And here I was, fantasizing about letting her father rail me raw while she planned flower arrangements.

I needed deliverance. An exorcism. A priest with holy water and a vibrator ban.

“Love, do you need anything?” a voice purred beside me and it was too close.

I turned and nearly jumped... Jack, the blond cousin with the dimples and the “soft tongue” reputation, leaned in, deep purple eyes glowing faintly, smirk sharp enough to cut glass. His thigh brushed mine under the table deliberately.

I shifted toward Aradia like she was a lifeline.

“Stop scaring her, J,” Aradia growled, shoving his shoulder hard enough to make him rock. He just chuckled, low and filthy, not offended at all.

“It’s fine, Arra,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

Lie. I was wired, buzzing with unspent lust and Catholic shame.

She narrowed her eyes, not buying it, then turned to the girl across the table, Lena, the one with the healer vibe and a plate piled higher than anyone else’s. “Lena, where’s that pill I asked you to prep for Zee?”

Lena, mouth full of venison, tossed a small vial across the table without looking. Aradia caught it one-handed like a pro.

“What’s that?” I asked, eyeing the innocent-looking white pill.

“Something to knock the fatigue right out of you,” Aradia said, popping the cap and tipping one into her palm. “Lena’s a genius healer. Fixes everything... hangovers, cramps, post-mating soreness, you name it. If you have any complaints, go to her, okay?”

She pushed the pill past my lips before I could protest, her fingers brushing my tongue for a split second and I swallowed on reflex.

Warmth spread through me almost instantly, gentle, soothing, like a full-body hug from the inside. My shoulders relaxed, the tension in my thighs eased, and even the guilt quieted to a murmur.

Seeing how she cares for me made my emotions welled up hard. Werewolves were wild, crazy, unhinged creatures who’d probably f**k on the dinner table if the mood struck.

But one thing was crystal clear, if they loved you, they loved you with everything, fierce, loyal, no half-measures. They’d kill for you, heal you, feed you, and claim you.

And Aradia loved me like pack.

I blinked back stupid tears, squeezing her hand under the table.

She squeezed back, grinning like she knew what was going on in my head. God... I love this girl and she's a gift I'll never stop being grateful for.

The pill kicked in fully, and suddenly the steak tasted even better and my appetite grew causing my stomach to growl and Aradia chuckled and pushed another on top.

I took another bite, this one bigger, and yeah, I was less polite.

Fuck it.

If I was going to hell for lusting after the Alpha, I might as well enjoy the food on the way down.

Besides, Cassian wasn’t here.

Yet.

And when he got back… well, a girl could pray.

Lord, forgive me for what I’m about to do at this table… and definitely for what I’m imagining doing on it later. Amen.