Mara

The dining room is one of the smallest places I’ve seen so far. It’s big enough to hold a six-seater table, carved by hand like everything else, a sideboard and serving trolley piled high with food and plates.

There’s enough room to move around, but no one’s going to throw any lavish parties in here. I get the feeling that it’s Johnathan’s private dining room, but somewhere in this massive mansion there must be some kind of reception hall for parties.

Wolves love to throw parties.

Preston is sitting at the end of the table with a lovely blonde woman next to him. She’s dressed comfortably in a strappy sundress. I remember when I was able to wear clothes like that. Jealousy tucks at my heart - not because the girl is a hundred times more beautiful than I am, but because she has the kind of freedom I’ve forgotten.

“Hello,” she chirps and sits upright. “I’m Ally, Preston’s mate. You are Mara right?”

I nod and smile at her. Like everyone else in Haven’s Crest, she’s almost uncomfortably nice. “Yes,” I say in a soft, demure little voice. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Johnathan loudly clears his throat and steers me to the head of the table. To the left of him and directly opposite me sits a boy who is almost an exact carbon copy of Johnathan. The only difference are their eyes. The boy has beautiful, clear, blue eyes.

He’s the cutest kid I’ve ever seen, with his chubby cheeks and fat little fingers. I forget all about the adults in the room and focus on the child. “I guess you’re Gregory, right? Your daddy told me all about you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says very politely. “Awe you my new mommy?”

My heart melts into a puddle of goo. I always liked children, but I have no clue how to answer his question. “I am not your mommy,” I say when no one else offers an answer.

“Do you want to be my mommy?” Gregory asks.

Feeling helpless, I look to Johnathan who regards us with an amused grin on his face. He leans over and ruffles the boy’s black hair. “We spoke about this buddy,” he says, his voice filled with warmth. “Mara and I aren’t married yet.”

The boy pouts a little and defiantly crosses his arms over his chest. “But you said when Mawa gets heaw she’ll be my mommy.”

I try not to grab the boy and run with him. I’ll happily be his mommy. I know what it’s like to grow up without a mother. Every child deserves to have a mommy who’ll love and protect them.

Johnathan looks at me, his face filled with consternation. No one’s ever looked at me that way, wordlessly asking for help.

“I’ll be your friend,” I offer up. “At least for now. How’s that?”

That seems to mollify the boy a little. He gives me a wavering smile, but I see the tears pooling in his lovely blue eyes. He’s trying very hard not to cry, taking in deep breaths as he attempts to get his emotions under control.

Johnathan shouldn’t have made promises like that to Gregory. I can never be the boy’s mother, not really.

Without thinking about it, I walk around Johnathan’s chair to the trolley and start to uncover the dishes. “Uh, what are you doing?” the Alpha asks.

“Serving you,” I say without missing a beat.

“No, you’re not,” he says. “Sit down.” He pats the seat to his right. The official Luna’s place.

I glance at Preston and his mate who are looking at me with matching shocked expressions on their faces.

I blush all the way to my roots. “I- I’m sorry,” I stutter. “I forgot. Old habits.”

“It’s all right,” Ally says. “Preston told me your ex-mate was a brute.”

Does everyone know? I don’t want people to know about my shame. I lower my gaze and walk back to my seat. At the same time, the Alpha gets up and pulls my chair out. I sit down and allow him to slide my seat under my ass.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Ally goes on. “A lot of she-wolves here fled mates like yours.”

I want to crawl under the table and die.

“That’s enough,” Johnathan says and retakes his seat. “Mara’s past is not open for discussion. How would you like it if we start to discuss your past, Ally?”

The girls blushes and goes very quiet.

A door swings open and Chad enters with a smile on his face. Wordlessly, he starts to take plates from the serving trolley, loading every dish with food, serving Johnathan first, then me, Gregory, Preston and last of all, Ally.

When he’s done he moves to the corner where he awaits any orders, his hands folded in front of him.

He may not dress like a conventional butler, but he behaves like one.

‘Bwoccoli?” Gregory says and pulls a face. “I hate bwoccoli.”

“Then don’t eat it,” Johnathan says as he picks up his utensils.

“It’s touching my food!” the boy protests.

“I hate broccoli too,” I say as I watch the petulant child. “Do you know what I like to do when someone puts broccoli on my plate?” I ask and start to plant the broccoli florets in my mash so they’ll look like little trees. “I like to pretend I’m a dinosaur.”

“Dinosaws eat meat. Like wolves.”

“Some dinosaurs eat vegetables. Did you know the biggest dinosaurs in the world only ate veggies? And we are not all wolf right? We are part human, so you need to eat your veggies so you can grow up to be big and strong like your daddy.”

I pull my hair back, lean over and grab a broccoli tree between my teeth before I suck it into my mouth. “Num num,” I growl softly. “I’m a dinosaur, eating my veggies.”

Gregory giggles and starts to plant his broccoli. I glance at Johnathan who is looking at me with a deep frown between his eyes. The way we’re eating is rude. Bad manners. “Remember,” I say quickly, “we can only do this when Daddy doesn’t have company over, or we’ll give away our secret.”

“Whatch ow secwet?” Gregory asks around a mouth full of broccoli.

“That we know vegetables makes the biggest, strongest Alphas in the world.”

I give Johnathan a sideways glance. The frown is gone and there’s a small smile on his lips. He gives me an approving little nod, picks up his knife and fork and starts to eat.

Even though I suddenly feel very vulnerable and exposed, I finish eating my broccoli like a dinosaur because it makes Gregory happy, and every time I snatch the vegetables between my teeth, he giggles and does the same.

When I’m done, I wipe my face and watch with satisfaction as Gregory does the same. Then we both pick up our utensils and dig into our food.

Everyone eats in complete silence. The only sound is that of knives and works scraping against the plates, and soft polite chewing. Johnathan only speaks once - to ask Chad for more wine.

It’s unnerving, and I’m so unsettled by the unnatural quiet that I don’t dare to open my mouth. My father was a stickler for proper table manners, but at least we made polite dinner conversation.

At eight on the dot, a middle-aged woman enters the dining room. “Master Gregory,” she announces in a thick accent that I can’t quite place, “it is time for your bath.”

“I want Mawa to do it!” Gregory protests.

I look at Johnathan who nods his approval. Frankly, I’m relieved to get out of here. Besides, I enjoy the little boy’s company. Children don’t see what adults see. They don’t judge based on appearance or rank. They simply accept people for who they are.

Gregory hops off his chair as I get up and runs around the table to place his sticky hand in mine. “Can you tell stowies, Mawa?”

“I’ve never tried,” I say as we walk from the dining room. “I guess we’ll find out together if I'm any good at it.”

As we leave, I glance over my shoulder at Johnathan. He's watching us go, his dark eyes unreadable. My heart clenches and my stomach roils. I wish I could read his mind. I can't figure out if he's pleased or disappointed in me.

Gregory tugs on my hand, pulling me back to him. His innocence, his easy joy—it’s so pure. So simple.

What I wouldn't give to go back in time, to be a child again.

Johnathan

I don’t usually like it when my schedule and routines are interrupted, but I’m not completely inflexible. Rules and structure are the most important things in life, but rigidity can shatter even the most carefully constructed framework.

Normally, I go up to Gregory's room a few minutes before nine o’clock to tell him a bedtime story, then I tuck him in for the night. At exactly nine, I turn off his light and switch on the nightlight. I then head to the pool where I have a cocktail to unwind before I head up to bed at eleven.

Everything in my life, personal and professional, runs according to a very strict schedule and set of routines. I can set my clock to it.

Tonight, however, I allow Mara to tell Gregory his story while I stand outside his bedroom and shamelessly listen it. It’s a story about a young man who has to go on a series of adventures to save his family from an evil witch.

I smile. The story might be a little too grown up for Gregory to fully understand, but Mara is inexperienced, and Greg is transfixed.

One of her duties will be to be a mother to my son, and frankly I expected an uphill battle. Gregory has hated every nanny I appointed. He has the uncanny ability to send all of them running screaming for the hills in six months or less.

It always starts out well. He starts out by being the nicest, sweetest boy, and then his behaviour becomes progressively worse. None of them have been able to handle him. Nannies are easy to replace though. I can’t replace my Luna if my son decides he's going to hate her.

His current nanny, Susarah, a blown-in from way down South somewhere, has lasted a week longer than the nanny who came before her. Susarah comes from a rough pack and a brutal country where violence reigns supreme in all walks of life. She doesn’t scare easily.

The clock in the hallway softly dings nine times. I push the bedroom door open and step inside. “That’s it,” I say. “Lights out.”

“But Mawa isn’t done with hew stowwy yet,” Gregory protests.

Mara immediately gets to her feet, obeying my order without questions. “It’s a long story,” she says, “our hero’s on a quest. It will take me days and days to tell it. We can go on tomorrow night.”

Without being prompted, and seemingly without a hint of shame, she leans over, kisses Greg's forehead and ruffles his hair. “Sleep tight, little guy.”

It would melt my heart, but I harden myself against the sweet image. I’ve seen nannies treat Gregory the same way, and I’d feel some hope that it would stick, that he'd finally find the motherly love he so desperately craves, but inevitably, he’d end up chasing them away like a bad dream.

I wait until Mara's out of the room before I take a seat on the edge of Gregory's bed and smooth his ruffled hair. “So what do you think, little man? Do you like Mara?”

“Yes,” he says without missing a beat. “Can we keep her?”

I laugh at my son's innocence. “She’s not a toy, but we'll see if she wants to stick around.”

There's no way to explain to a five-year-old that I actually bought his future stepmother at an auction, and that Mara has nowhere to go. She’s stuck here, and even if he starts to hate her or tries to drive her away, she won’t go anywhere.

I talk to my boy a little longer, bending my own rules just slightly, before I call a halt to our conversation and pull the blankets up to his chin. He immediately kicks the blankets off, “It’s too wahm, Daddy.”

It can get cold here at night, but most of the time it’s really fucking hot. “Okay,” I say and flip off the main light. “Sweet dreams. I want to hear all about them in the morning.”

Gregory yawns and turns on his side, away from me. Within seconds, I hear the soft, even breathing of my sleeping child.

Smiling, I close his door and tiptoe across the landing to the flight of stairs that leads to the back of the mansion.

I step out onto the deck and inhale deeply. From here, I can’t see or hear the noise of the town.

Chad already put out two pitchers of cocktails - enough for two or three drinks - and covered it with a net to keep the bugs out. The quiet, unlit pool glimmers in the moonlight, and a warm breeze floats across the deck, calming my unraveling nerves.

With a sigh, I stretch out on the lounger next to the table and look out over my mountain home. I love this place. I grew up here. It was at once my greatest sorrows and biggest joy to hear that Haven’s Crest went tits up.

Back then, my father and the Alpha of this place, called it Misty Mountain. I changed the name. This place went from my hell to my haven, and it should be that for every rogue who blows in here.

Behind me, I hear the soft and yet unfamiliar footsteps of an approaching she-wolf. “Good evening, Mara,” I say without looking over my shoulder.

“I- I- sorry,” she says. “I- I…” she goes quiet and I can feel the uncertainty radiating from the core of her being.

This is my quiet time, but if I’m going to have a mate, I’ll need to get used to having her around even when her presence annoys me. “Come. Sit with me. Have a drink.”

Her soft footsteps barely make a sound when she steps out on the wooden deck. “If you’d rather be alone…”

“No. Have a drink.”

“I’m not allowed to have alcohol.”

Fuck. This is like pulling teeth. “You are no longer with Lucas. You are with me. Have a fucking cocktail and try to relax.”

I get up, open the lounger on the other side of the table, and pour two drinks from one of the pitchers. When I hand one of the drinks to her, she visibly flinches, lifting her arm up as if to shield herself.

My jaw clenches and I hold on to a frustrated sigh. She reminds me too much of a little boy I once knew - a boy I buried a long time ago.

Without a word, I walk back to my lounger and sit down, clutching my own drink in my hand.

Mara finally sits down. Stiff and silent, her back ruler straight. She's afraid of me, and who can blame her for it? She reminds me so much of...

I push the thought away. Dwelling, on the past doesn't do anyone any good. “Can you relax?” I ask her. “Or is that too much to expect?”

She just stares at me with those big, terrified eyes.

I sigh inwardly. I have no idea how to make her feel better.

I’m not great with women. I know how to seduce them and I know how to fuck them, but I don’t know how to build a relationship.

Gregory is the result of a one night stand with a blow-in. I thought I was in love with her and even planned to marry her, but when she left two days after giving birth, I was relieved.

I know nothing about love, but I do know you’re not supposed to be relieved when the she-wolf you think you love leaves you alone with a newborn.

When Mara doesn’t say anything, I shake my head, take a sip of my girly drink, as Preston likes to call them, and lie back in my lounger.

The silence is suddenly thick and uncomfortable. “Do you like it here?” I ask.

“It- it’s very busy.”

I laugh. “Yes. We’re outgrowing the town. I need more space.”

She nods but doesn’t offer up potential solutions to the problem. Lunas are supposed to lead alongside the Alpha. They are supposed to advise and solve problems. Mara should know this.

Dante, my wolf, decides that now would be an excellent opportunity to give me advice though. “Give her some time. She’s afraid.”

“Oh,” I answer him. “Now you have something to say. You’ve been quiet all day.”

“Her wolf is hurt.”

That is not what I wanted to hear from him. “How badly?”

“She needs a healer.”

I sigh and throw my hands in the air. “Felicity,” I say aloud. “Are you around?”

“Who are you talking to?” Mara asks.

A vampire drops out of the sky, landing softly on the deck. Her eyes flash crimson in the darkness. “You called?” she asks.