Chapter 23

Elara & Alaric

Elara

Alaric stepped into the room, his presence commanding as ever. His gaze swept over the scene: the scattered oatmeal, Zoe and Ella standing protectively in front of me, their tiny fangs poking out of their mouths.

Grace stood a few feet away from me, a placid smile plastered onto her face as if I or the girls would just suddenly forget what she had done.

“Grandma tried to hit Mommy!” Ella immediately blurted out, pointing a finger at Grace.

Alaric’s sharp eyes immediately snapped to his mother. His jaw tightened as he regarded her. “Mother. What is going on here?”

Grace straightened her shoulders, adopting an air of indignant outrage. “What’s going on is that this Omega”—she gestured toward me with disdain—“attacked me. Look at this mess!” She pointed to the oatmeal splattered across the floor. “She smacked the spoon right out of my hand! Completely unprovoked!”

I stared at her, dumbfounded by her audacity.

“But she only did that because Grandma was hurting me!” Zoe practically shrieked.

That seemed to be enough to cause Alaric to nearly explode. “You hurt Zoe?” he demanded, whirling to face his mother again.

Grace’s mouth opened and closed a few times, rather like a fish out of water, before she managed, “I was only trying to feed her some oatmeal. She was refusing to eat, and—”

“That’s not true!” Ella cried out. “She grabbed Zoe’s arm and Mommy stopped her!”

“You don’t know half of what happened, child,” Grace hissed, sneering at Ella.

I curled my lip. “She knows more than you give her credit for, you bitter old—”

“Enough,” Alaric said, raising a hand to silence us all. The room fell into a hush as we all turned to face him. “This ends now. Mother, you will not put your hands on either of my daughters. And Elara, you will get along with my mother. Do you understand?”

Grace pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing. “If she knew her place, there wouldn’t be an issue.”

“Mother,” Alaric said, his voice sharper this time.

I bit my lip, forcing the bitter retort down. As much as I wanted to speak out, I couldn’t afford to make things worse. Not with the tenuous arrangement Alaric and I had. The last thing I wanted was to jeopardize it, or worse, have the girls bear the brunt of this feud.

“I’ll clean it up,” I said softly, grabbing a cloth from the counter. I knelt down, dabbing at the oatmeal splattered across the tile. My hands trembled slightly, but I tried not to show just how shaken I was.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Grace’s satisfied smirk as she watched me. She didn’t bother to hide it.

“Good,” she said. “Now, Alaric, a word in private, if you’d please.”

Alaric cast me a brief glance, something unreadable flickering across his face, before nodding. “Fine.” He gestured toward the hallway. “In my study.”

As they left, I took a steadying breath and turned my attention back to the girls. Zoe had tears in her eyes, her small fists clenched tightly at her sides. Ella was staring at the floor, her lips pressed together in a trembling line.

I reached out, grabbing both of their hands. “It’s okay,” I said gently. “Let’s just finish breakfast, alright?”

“But I don’t want oatmeal,” Zoe mumbled, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I wanted your pancakes.”

“They looked so tasty,” Ella whimpered with a sniffle.

My heart twisted painfully. The last thing I ever wanted was for either of them to feel bad. “I know, sweethearts,” I said, standing and grabbing two clean bowls from the cupboard. “But I’ll make it better, okay? Look.” I opened the fridge, pulling out the leftover strawberries and blueberries. “We’ll add some fruit. And a little honey, too. It’ll taste better, I promise.”

As I prepared the oatmeal, the girls watched quietly, the only sound their occasional sniffles. I carefully chopped the strawberries into little hearts, arranging the fruit carefully in the bowls, then drizzled honey on top.

By the time I was finished, the oatmeal actually looked pretty appetizing. Not quite as appetizing as animal-shaped pancakes, of course, but it was a whole hell of a lot better than bland, mushy oatmeal with nothing in it.

“There,” I said softly, setting the bowls down for them. “Eat up, and we’ll do something fun together later, okay?”

The girls took their seats, looking a little wary but considerably less upset now that their bowls were filled with vibrant fruit and sweet honey.

“Promise?” Zoe murmured, looking up at me with her big eyes.

I managed a smile and knelt down, holding out both of my pinkies toward them.

“Pinky promise.”

…

Alaric

I led my mother into the study, shutting the door firmly behind us. Her eyes raked over the room critically, no doubt finding fault with the faint layer of dust on the shelves or the slight tilt of the painting on the far wall.

“Speak,” I said flatly as I took a seat behind my desk. “What is it you wanted to say?”

My mother, in typical fashion, wasted no time. “This marriage of yours is a disgrace to the Donovan name,” she declared sharply. “An Omega, Alaric? Really? You couldn’t have chosen anyone lower.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, already regretting this conversation. “Mother, we’ve been over this.”

“No, we haven’t. And it’s clear you need to hear it again.” She pursed her lips into a thin, flat line. “That woman is dragging you down. She can’t even dress herself properly, for heaven’s sake! That outfit I picked out for her—”

“Was terrible,” I interrupted dryly. “You made her look like a librarian from the last century.”

My mother blinked, clearly not expecting that response from me. “What I picked out for her was modest and appropriate,” she sniffed, turning her nose up at me.

“It was frumpy,” I corrected her. “And Elara dresses just fine on her own. She doesn’t need you to nitpick every little thing.”

Her lips pressed together, but I didn’t miss the flicker of surprise in her expression. “So, you admit she’s seducing you, then,” she remarked.

I stared at her, incredulous. “What?”

“Don’t play coy, Alaric,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you, all doe-eyed and hopeful. It’s pathetic, really. You’re letting an Omega manipulate you with her… feminine wiles.”

I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly. Feminine wiles… Elara was very attractive, don’t get me wrong, but it couldn’t have been further from the truth. What we had was a professional arrangement and nothing more. A fake marriage for Zoe’s and Ella’s sake.

“Mother, my feelings are my own,” I said after a moment. “And if I chose Elara as my wife, then I had a good reason.”

Her eyes narrowed, studying me intently. “A good reason,” she repeated with a scoff. “Hmph. I wonder what that could possibly be.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. The truth of our arrangement was a carefully guarded secret, one that I had no intention of sharing with anyone, let alone my mother.

With that, my mother stood abruptly, her hands smoothing down the front of her tailored skirt. “Well,” she said with an air of finality, “if you are really so determined to keep this farce going, then I suppose I’ll have to stay even longer. Clearly, she needs far more guidance than I initially thought.”

I bit back a groan. “That won’t be necessary, Mother.”

“Oh, but it is,” she said. “An Omega will never make a proper Luna on her own. But perhaps, with the right training, she could at least be… halfway decent.”

My patience was wearing thin, and I just wanted her to leave. “If you say so.”

She glanced at me sharply, clearly displeased with my lack of enthusiasm, but didn’t press the issue. “I’ll leave you to your work,” she said coolly. “For now.”

With that, she turned and swept out of the room like a cold wind. I waited until I heard the faint sound of the front door closing before I let out a heavy sigh.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I closed my eyes briefly, willing away the headache that was already forming in my skull.

The last thing I needed was the women in my life fighting constantly…