The Alpha's Biggest Regret

The heat in the packhouse kitchens was a thick, heavy blanket that settled deep into my bones. I wiped a stray lock of ebony hair from my damp forehead, leaving a faint streak of white flour across my skin. For the past six hours, I had been on my feet, mediating a territorial dispute between two young warriors—Caolán and Timmy—before coming down here to help the Omegas prepare the evening feast. My hands ached, my lower back throbbed, and a dull tension sat right behind my silver-gray eyes. Being the Luna of the Silver Moon Pack was not a title; it was a tireless, endless duty. But I loved these people. I loved this home. I brushed my fingers over the faint outline of the crescent moon birthmark hidden just beneath my collarbone, a nervous habit I had carried since childhood. "Luna Evie, you should sit," Elicia, our head cook, murmured. She handed me a damp cloth. "You look ready to drop. Alpha Delroy will have my head if he returns and finds you completely exhausted." I managed a soft smile, taking the cloth and wiping my hands. "Delroy knows I can’t just sit still while there is work to be done. Besides, the winter preparations won't finish themselves." As I spoke his name, a familiar, deep pull tugged at the center of my chest. The mate bond. It was a low, vibrant hum that started in my blood and rushed straight to my heart. My inner wolf stretched and perked her ears. He’s close, she purred. My fatigue vanished, replaced by a sudden rush of warmth. Delroy had been gone for three weeks on a diplomatic run to the northern borders. The bed had felt too large, the nights too quiet. I tossed the towel onto the counter and smoothed down my simple gray dress, hurrying out of the kitchens and into the grand dining hall. Dozens of pack members were already seated at the long, polished wooden tables. The smell of roasted venison, fresh pine, and woodsmoke hung heavy in the air. The low murmur of conversations bounced off the high vaulted ceilings. The heavy, iron-bound front doors swung open. A rush of freezing winter wind swept into the hall, carrying the sharp scent of snow. The fires in the hearths flickered wildly. The chatter in the room died down as the Alpha stepped across the threshold. Delroy Brooke was a striking man. Tall, broad-shouldered, with thick dark brown hair dusted with fresh snowflakes. His sharp blue eyes scanned the room, carrying that natural, commanding aura that made the wolves around him sit a little straighter. My heart leaped. I stepped forward, closing the distance between us. "Delroy," I breathed, reaching out to wrap my arms around his neck, standing on my toes to press a kiss to his jaw. I expected his strong arms to wrap around my waist, lifting me off the ground the way he always did when he returned from a long journey. Instead, he turned his head. My lips brushed the rough wool of his coat collar. He took a distinct, fluid step backward, creating a gap of cold air between us. My hands fell to my sides, half-raised, suspended in the space he had just abandoned. "Evie," he said, his voice flat, devoid of the warmth I had been craving for weeks. "Not right now." A hot flush of humiliation crept up my neck. I could feel the eyes of the pack on my back. The silence in the dining hall suddenly felt entirely too loud. My wolf whimpered in confusion, scratching at the back of my mind. We were mates. Why was he pulling away? Before I could form a question, the scent hit me. Beneath the familiar smell of his pine and rain, there was something else woven deeply into the fabric of his clothes. A sweet, cloying perfume. Vanilla and crushed jasmine. It was heavy, lingering, and intensely foreign. Delroy stepped to the side, shifting his broad frame to reveal what—or who—he was shielding from the wind. A woman stood behind him, wrapped tightly in Delroy’s own spare traveling cloak. She was petite, fragile-looking, with soft golden curls that spilled over the dark fur collar of the coat. Her wide green eyes darted around the grand hall, playing the part of a startled, timid deer perfectly. Clinging tightly to her right hand was a young boy, no older than two, his face buried in the folds of the oversized cloak. A bitter taste flooded my tongue. I swallowed hard, forcing my posture to remain tall and dignified. "Delroy. Who is this?" Delroy placed a hand on the small of the woman’s back. The gesture was smooth, completely natural, and it sent a sharp spike of ice straight into my veins. He urged her forward into the light of the torches. "This is Róise Reilly Killam," Delroy announced, projecting his voice so the entire hall could hear. "Beta Schuyler’s widow." A collective murmur rippled through the pack members. I stared at the woman. Schuyler had been Delroy’s most trusted friend, a Beta who died tragically on a border run nearly three years ago. We had all grieved his loss. But Schuyler had kept his personal life deeply private. I knew he had a mate who lived in a neighboring town, but we had never met her. "Schuyler’s widow," I repeated, my voice steady despite the rapid, frantic beating of my heart. "We… we didn't know you needed aid. Why didn't you reach out sooner?" Róise looked up at Delroy through her thick eyelashes before looking at me. She offered a small, trembling smile. "It has been difficult since he passed, Luna Evie. I tried to survive on my own. For my son. But the winters are so harsh, and the rogues… I had nowhere else to turn." She looked back at Delroy. "He found me. He saved us." "It is my duty to look after the family of my fallen Beta," Delroy stated, his chin lifting defensively. "She has been struggling for far too long. The pack owes Schuyler a debt. We will repay it by giving his family a home." I looked at the little boy. He peeked out from the cloak, revealing a tuft of dark brown hair and a pair of bright blue eyes. He looked exhausted, his cheeks flushed from the cold. My maternal instincts flared, pushing down the ugly twist of jealousy in my gut. A child was a child. They needed warmth. I took a step forward, putting on the gentle, welcoming smile I had perfected over the last seven years. I reached out, offering to take the heavy traveling bag slung over Róise’s shoulder. "Of course," I said smoothly. "Any family of Schuyler is family to the Silver Moon. Let me take your bag. You must be freezing. I can have Elicia prepare a hot meal for you and the little one." Róise shrank back, clutching the strap of the bag tightly, avoiding my hand. She pressed her shoulder against Delroy’s chest. "Oh, no, please. I don't want to be a burden. I can carry it." "You aren't a burden, Róise," Delroy said immediately. His tone was drastically different from the flat, clipped voice he had used with me just moments ago. It was thick with a strange, protective warmth. He reached down, taking the bag from her grip with ease. "I'll carry it. You just focus on getting the boy inside." My hand fell empty to my side. Again. I stood there, the Luna of this pack, feeling like an intruder in my own grand hall. The Omegas watched with wide, uncomfortable eyes. I squared my shoulders, refusing to let my dignity crack in front of my people. "Come," I said, turning on my heel toward the grand staircase. "I will show you to the guest quarters. We have a beautiful suite in the South Wing that receives the morning light. It will be perfect for a mother and child." I walked up the sweeping wooden stairs, my worn leather boots making no sound. Behind me, I could hear their footsteps. The heavy, steady tread of my mate, and the soft, shuffling steps of the stranger wearing his coat. Something is wrong, my wolf growled, pacing furiously in the dark corners of my mind. The smell. The touch. Wrong. Wrong. I forced her down. I was being paranoid. Delroy was an Alpha; he was protective by nature. It was his job to shield the weak. I was just tired. The six hours in the kitchen were catching up to me, clouding my judgment. We reached the second-floor landing. The hallway branched off into three directions. To the left was the South Wing, reserved for visiting dignitaries and long-term guests. To the right was the East Wing, the private residential corridor for the Alpha line. I gestured to the left. "This way. I'll have fresh linens brought up immediately." "No," Delroy said. I stopped. I turned around, my brow furrowing. "No?" Delroy was standing at the entrance to the East Wing. He wasn't looking at me; he was looking down at Róise, who was shivering lightly, though the corridor was perfectly warm. "The South Wing is too drafty," Delroy said firmly. "She’s frail, Evie. The boy needs a warm environment. They will take the blue room in the East Wing." The breath caught in my throat. I stared at him, praying he was joking. "Delroy. The blue room is directly next to our suite. It shares a wall with our bedroom. That space is reserved for our future children. Or our immediate family." Delroy finally looked at me. His blue eyes were hard, devoid of the love I had dedicated my entire life to earning. "I told you downstairs. She is pack family. I am the Alpha, Evie. My word is final." A sharp ache pierced my chest, so sudden and fierce I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from flinching. He was using his Alpha tone on me. Over a guest. Over a woman we barely knew. I looked at Róise. She was staring at the floor, holding her son tightly, playing the picture of innocence. But I could smell the faint spike of triumph in her scent, sweet and rotting. "Fine," I whispered, my voice tightly controlled. I turned and walked down the East Wing, feeling like I was leading a predator into my own den. I stopped in front of the heavy oak door of the blue room, turning the brass handle and pushing it open. The room was pristine, smelling of fresh linen and beeswax. A massive, plush bed sat in the center, directly against the wall that separated this room from my own bed. Róise stepped inside, her eyes sweeping over the luxurious furnishings. She let out a soft, breathless sigh, dropping Delroy’s cloak from her shoulders. She looked entirely too comfortable. "It's beautiful," she murmured softly. She set her son down on the thick rug, and the boy immediately began playing with the tassels. Delroy stepped into the room, setting her heavy bag on the velvet bench at the foot of the bed. "Rest, Róise. If you need anything, I am right next door." "Thank you, Delroy," she said softly. I stood in the doorway, my hands gripping the wooden frame so tightly my knuckles turned entirely white. My home. My sanctuary. My mate. Everything suddenly felt tilted, distorted, like a reflection in a broken mirror. Delroy walked past me, stepping back out into the hallway. He didn't reach for my hand. He didn't pull me close. He just looked at me with that same, cold indifference. Róise began unpacking her bag, pulling out folded dresses. She paused, looking over her shoulder. Her green eyes locked onto mine. The timid, frightened deer vanished. For a fraction of a second, a small, sharp smile touched her lips—a predator settling into a stolen nest. Delroy reached out, grabbing the brass handle of the door. He didn't look at me as he prepared to pull it shut. "Make sure the Omegas bring her whatever she asks for," Delroy ordered smoothly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "She’ll be staying with us."