Alpha Roan.
I am watching Meluna in the nursery. She claimed she didn't want to go shopping, yet now we’re surrounded by at least fifty boxes of tiny socks, sweaters, and onesies. She’s folding them with a focus I find utterly captivating. I’m her silent sentinel, studying her every move.
Having just finished assembling the crib…a task beneath an Alpha, but nothing is beneath me when it comes to what’s mine. I dust off my pants and move closer. The scent of her, of us, is strongest in this room.
“Meluna, what’s your favorite color?”
She looks up from the rug instantly guarded, as if I’m a storm cloud darkening her sunny afternoon. “I don’t have one.”
“You picked peach onsies more than ten times.”
Her eyes widen slightly. It’s as if it never occurred to her that I watch her, that I
