Alphas prefer fiesty Lunas

Out and about

*Freya*

Once we have started measuring, Angel turns to me, her blue eyes serious. “Are you nervous?”

“About tonight?” I ask.

Angel nods.

“A little. You English wolves can be a little daunting, you know, with all of your rules and etiquette.” I admit.

Angel smiles sympathetically, pushing a lock of her wavy blond hair out of her eyes. “You will do fine. You have got self-confidence. It has been my experience that if you act like you know what you are doing, people will believe you.”

“Such a sage,” I say affectionately. “You read too much.”

“I know. It will be the death of me. I will never...” Angel rolls her eyes in mock horror. “...find a mate when I have got my nose in a book.”

“Did your mother say that?” I ask.

“Yes, but she means well, you know. She would never make me get a mate just for the sake of getting one. She let me refuse an offer from the Alpha of Stockton last year, and he was considered the mating season’s biggest catch.”

I can’t help but ask; “What was wrong with him?”

“He was a bit concerned by the fact that I like to read.” She says with a shrug.

I smile as she scoops some more flour into bowls.

“He told me that reading wasn’t appropriate for the female brain,” Angel continues. “He said it gave she-wolves ‘ideas’.”

“Heaven forbid we have ideas.” I say rolling my eyes.

Angel returns my eyeroll, “I know, I know. He told me not to worry, however, that he was certain he could break me of the habit once we were married.”

I shot her a sideways glance. “You should have asked him if he thought you would be able to break him of his pompous attitude.”

“I wanted to, but I didn’t.” She admits.

“I would have.” I huff.

“I know.” Angel smiles and looks at me. “You do have a talent for speaking your mind.”

I smile, “Is that a compliment?”

Angel ponders the question for a few moments before answering. “I rather think it is. Redheads aren’t really in fashion just now, but I predict that you...and your outrageous mouth...will be such a success that by next month I will be informed...by those who inform...that red hair is positively the latest thing and isn’t that lucky for my poor cousin who has the misfortune of being American.”

“Somehow I doubt that, but it’s very kind of you to say so.” I know I am not as lovely as Angel, but I am satisfied with my looks, having long ago decided that if I can’t be a beauty, at least I am unusual. River has once called me a chameleon, pointing out that my hair seems to change color with each shake of my head. One glimmer of light set my locks aflame. And my eyes, normally a clear violet, smolder and darken to dangerous black when I am in a temper.

I scoop some flour into the last bowl and wipe my hands on my apron. “Cook!” I call out. “What next? We have measured out all the flour and sugar.”

“Eggs. I want three in each bowl. And no shells, you hear me? If I find any shells in my cakes, I will keep them in the kitchen and serve up your heads instead.” She growls.

“My, my, Cook is fierce this morning,” Angel chuckles.

Cook huffs, “I heard that, missy! Don’t you think I didn’t. I’ll have none of that. Now, if you’re going to be in my kitchen, get to work!”

“Where did you put the eggs, Cook?” I rummage through the box where perishable food is stored. “I don’t see them anywhere.”

“Well, you can’t be looking hard enough, then. I knew you two would have no cooking sense.” Cook stomps over to the box and flings it open. Her search, however, proves as fruitless as mine. “Well, I’ll be. We’re out of eggs.” Her scowl returns with a vengeance and she bellows, “Who was the fool that forgot to get eggs from the market?”

Not surprisingly, no one raises her hand.

Cook scans the room, her gaze finally resting on a young maid who is hunched over a pile of berries. “Mary,” she calls out. “Are you done washing those yet?”

Mary wipes her wet hands on her apron. “No, ma’am, I have still got pints and pints to go. I have never seen so many berries.”

“Susie?”

Susie is up to her elbows in soapy water as she hurriedly washes dishes.

I look around. There are at least a dozen people in the kitchen, and all of them look terribly busy.

“Well, this is just dandy,” Cook grumbles. “Four hundred to cook for, and I have got no eggs. And no spare hands to go fetch more.”

“I will go,” I volunteer.

Both Angel and Cook look at me with expressions that are somewhere between shock and horror.

“Are you crazy?” Cook demands.

“Freya, it simply isn’t done,” Angel says at the exact same moment.

I roll my eyes. “No, I’m not crazy, and why can’t I go to the store? I’m perfectly able to fetch some eggs. Besides, I could use a little fresh air. I have been cooped up inside all morning.”

“But someone might see you,” Angel protests. “You are covered with flour, for goodness' sake!”

“Angel, I haven’t met anybody yet. How could I be recognized?” I ask.

She shakes her head, “But you can’t go about in your maid’s dress.”

“This dress is exactly why I can go out,” I explain patiently. “If I wore one of my morning dresses, everyone would wonder why a ranked she-wolf was out without an escort, not to mention on her way to the market for eggs. No one will look twice at me if I’m dressed as a maid. Although you certainly cannot accompany me. You would be spotted in a second.”

Angel sighs. “Mama would kill me.”

“So you see…if Cook needs all her help in the kitchen, I am the only solution.” I smile. I am smelling victory.

Angel isn’t convinced. “I don’t know, Freya. This is highly irregular, letting you go out by yourself.”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “Here, I will pull my hair back tightly just like our maids do.” I hastily rearrange my hair into a bun. “And I’ll spill some more flour on my dress. And maybe smear a little on my cheek.”

“That’s enough, now,” Cook interjects. “We don’t need to be wasting any of my good flour.”

“Well, Angel?” I ask. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know. Mama wouldn’t like this one bit.” She sighs.

I put my face very close to Angel’s. “She isn’t going to hear about it, is she?”

“Oh, all right.” Angel turns to all of the kitchen maids and wags her finger. “Not one word of this to my mama. Does everyone understand?”

“I don’t like this at all,” Cook says. “Not at all.”

“Well, we haven’t much choice, have we?” I put in. “Not if you want cakes at the ball. Now why don’t you put Angel to work squeezing those lemons, and I promise Iwill be back before you even notice I’m gone.” And with that, I grab some coins out of Cook’s hands and slip out the door.

I take a deep breath of the crisp spring air as I reach the street. Freedom! It is so nice to escape the confines of my cousins' home every now and then. Dressed as a maid, I can walk along unnoticed. After tonight, I will never again be able to leave the Morningstar mansion unchaperoned.

I turn the final corner on the way to the market, taking my time as I amble down the sidewalk, stopping to glance in every store window. Just as I had expected, none of the she-wolves and gentlemen out strolling give more than a passing glance to the small, red-haired maid covered with flour.

I hum cheerfully as I enter the bustling market and purchase several dozen eggs. They are a little awkward to carry, but I am careful not to grimace. A kitchen maid would be used to carrying such burdens, and I don't want to spoil my disguise. Besides, I am fairly strong, and it is only five short blocks home.

"Thank you very much, sir," I smile at the grocer, nodding my head.

He returns my grin. "Aye, you are new around here? You sound as if you hail from the Colonies."

My eyes widen in surprise. I hadn't expected questions from the grocer. "Why, yes, I did grow up there, but I have been living in London now for many years," I lie.

"Aye, I've always wanted to see America," he ponders.

I groan inwardly. The grocer seems ready for a long, engaging conversation, and I really need to get back home before Angel starts worrying about me. I start backing out the door, smiling all the way.

"Now you come back sometime, little missy. Who did you say you worked for?"

But I have already scurried out the door, pretending that I haven't heard his question. By the time I am halfway home, I am in high spirits, whistling happily, quite certain that I have pulled off my charade without a hitch.

I walk slowly, eager to prolong my little adventure. Besides, I enjoy watching all the Londoners go about their daily business. In my maid's costume, no one pays me any mind, and I can stare quite shamelessly as long as I look away whenever anybody glances back at me.

I crane my neck to watch an adorable little boy of about five or six years scamper out of an elegant carriage drawn by a pair of matched bays. He clutches a small cocker spaniel puppy, scratching it between its ears. The black and white puppy returns his affection by licking the boy across the face, and he squeals with laughter, prompting his mother to poke her head out of the carriage to check up on him.

She is a beautiful she-wolf with dark hair and green eyes that shine with obvious love for her son. "Don't you move from that spot, Charlie," she calls out to the boy. "I'll be with you in one moment."

The she-wolf turns back toward the interior of the carriage, presumably to speak to someone. The little dark-haired boy rolls his eyes and shifts his weight from foot to foot as he waits for his mother. "Mama," he implores. "Hurry up." I smile at his obvious impatience. From what my father has told me, I had been exactly the same way when I was small.

"Just one minute, scamp. I'll be right down."

But right then, a calico cat streaks across the street. The puppy suddenly lets out a loud bark and jumps out of Charlie's arms, chasing the feline into the street.

"Buddy!" Charlie shrieks. The little boy breaks into a run, following the dog.

I gasp in horror. A hired hack is barreling down the street, and the driver is completely engrossed in conversation with the man sitting next to him, not paying the least bit of attention to the road. Charlie will be trampled underneath the horses' hooves.

I scream. I don't stop to think as I drop the eggs and race into the street. When I am but a few feet away from the boy, I make a headfirst dive through the air. If I have enough momentum... I pray… I will knock us both out of the way before we are run over by the hack.

Charlie yelps, not understanding why a strange she-wolf has jumped at him, slamming herself into his side.

Just before I hit the ground, I hear more screams.

And then there is only darkness.