The vampire just smiles, not lowering his sunglasses or removing his gloves. The rest of the supernaturals in the community take their spots as the back door audibly creaks open.
Before he can even face me, I recognize him immediately.
Silas.
My long lost best friend. The one I abandoned fourteen years ago and never even bothered to look back at. The moment I lived under Aster Delvaux’s roof, I was taught it was coven or nothing. So I shoved Silas into a tiny little box of things I needed to leave in my past.
He’s larger and far more imposing than I remember, but he still has the same handsome features he did when he was sixteen, but now he’s a man.
Well, I guess he’s more than a man. He’s the new Alpha of the Moon Walker Pack.
My first friend, my first kiss, the only boy I ever loved, is now my enemy.
He’s flipping through papers and standing next to a man I also recognize. His sharp buzzed hair and eerie green eyes are impossible to miss—Jonas.
There’s a part of me that’s happy that Silas has had Jonas throughout all these years, that he wasn’t alone. A part of my heart breaks as I watch Silas’ hard features scan the room, not even a hint of a smile on his lips.
When his brown eyes finally land on me, he stares.
It’s like there’s no one else in the room as we both take each other in. The time apart has been kind on his appearance, but not on his demeanor as he rubs his chest as he looks at me. It’s like every emotion crosses his face: anger, frustration, curiosity, resentment, and something else wholly unrecognizable.
I wonder what he sees in mine. Probably guilt. I’ve locked Silas away for a long time, not allowing myself to even go there. How could I? Grand-mère explained to me that different un-human beings existed and that when she came to collect me, she could smell that I’d been around a shifter or a werewolf.
So I kept Silas hidden away in my past. Sometimes, when I was feeling lonely or sad, I’d let myself daydream about what we could have been, who we would have been in a different lifetime.
But this isn’t that lifetime, him sitting before me as the Alpha of a wolf shifter pack just solidifies that. There is no universe where we’re together, or friends again, and it feels like the air is being sucked out of my lungs.
“Are you quite done gawking at my progeny?” she interrupts the moment and Silas’ gaze shifts to her.
“My apologies, let us begin,” he says, taking a seat and dismissing our perplexing reunion.
He’s white knuckling the countertop, and I can’t keep my eyes off him. If he senses me staring, he doesn’t give in, looking anywhere but my direction.
“I want to thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I’m Alpha pack leader, Silas, and I’m hoping that we can leave this meeting with a better understanding of one another and a solution to move forward.”
My grand-mère scoffs at even the slightest mention of peace.
“If it’s peace that you want, why was this meeting not held at night?” the vampire from earlier asks.
“I apologize for the shortsightedness.”
“Hmm. You’ve apologized twice now during this meeting. Are you also here to apologize for the lives of the witches that ended between the sharp teeth of your pack? Or how about the centuries of crimes against our coven,” she says in her rich, southern twang.
Sometimes I wish I spoke like her, or the rest of the coven. Maybe I’ve picked up some linguistic choices, but I’d never be able to curse in southern sophistication the same way Aster is capable of.
“Please, tell me about these crimes. Ones that are relevant to those living today,” Silas challenges her, still not looking in my direction.
What am I going to say to him if I have a chance? What do I even say? I’m sorry I abandoned you. It wasn’t my choice, but wanting nothing to do with you now is?
Just the idea of it has bile creeping up my throat.
Her lips purse, like she wants to say something, but by bringing it up it would be showing her cards. Instead, she goes with the low hanging fruit. “We could start with the full moon and how nearly every quarter one of your dogs interrupt our rituals.”
“Wolves,” Silas corrects her. “Are there treaty lines of where everyone can and can not be on the full moon?”
“Where we roam on the full moon is out of our control,” the werewolf ambassador says. His name is Elias, and he’s honestly not a bad guy. Before he was bitten he coached the high school football team, but his life is tied to the moon now.
I suppose it controls all of our lives, in some way.
