Malachi stood and stepped back, well out of her space when she opened her eyes. He said, “You need to eat. I’ll be back in a minute.”
In his refrigerator, leftovers sat in generous variety. Aaron’s mate Ember insisted on providing him with a delicious meal every week or so. His own cooking was basic in comparison, though Rebecca had taught him his way around the kitchen. Eleven years old, arrived on the Lane alone and silent, he watched her cook for two weeks before he asked his first question.
“How do you know how hot to make the oven?”
April needed food immediately, so he opted for the microwave and Ember’s ultra-cheesy rigatoni bake, brimming with beef meatballs. Carbs and protein, a solid helping of both. He filled a twelve-ounce glass with water and brought it as well.
When he returned, April perked up in the chair and accepted the plate from his hands with wide-eyed hunger. Then she sat staring at it.
“What is it?” he said.
“I… You’re…feeding me.”
He tilted his head. “A fundamental part of hospitality, which I’ve already offered.”
“But you…you’re…”
Understanding wrenched him again. “I’m seventeen-percent wolf, which you’ve been told makes me a savage monster.”
She flinched.
“I don’t blame you for what you were told. But those wolves didn’t know our lore, or they lied to you for their own reasons.”
She stared another moment, forked a bite of food, then downed the entire glass of water.
Malachi held out his hand. “Refill?”
Her stark pallor lost to the flush of embarrassment. He took the glass, refilled it in the kitchen, and brought it back.
This time she drank about half. Then she set the glass aside and continued to eat. He retreated across the room to his favorite chair, constructed by his friend Trevor to hold the weight of a seventeen-percent alpha wolf. April’s body began to relax with the automatic routine of eating, but his own body was tense, his mind a whirl. Protect her. Protect his pack. If the predatory alpha tracked her down, attempted to take her or kill her…
Well, then that alpha would die. The fact of it lay in his mind, gleaming and sharp with a honed point. If Drew came to Lunar Lane, Malachi would kill him.
Three
Malachi.NotAlpha.Rightto his face, the other wolf had called him by his name—by a nickname even, which short-circuited April’s brain altogether. His behavior made no sense. He wasn’t only an alpha; he also held status as the ultimate class of apex. People debated about common wolves or vampires, who outclassed whom based on abilities, but no one argued that the exceedingly rare wolves with Malachi’s genetic makeup were classed at the top.
Or so she’d heard from one of the wolves she’d escaped.
His name was Kyle, and he was semi-obsessed with “peak wolves,” a name he claimed to have coined himself. Of course he’d told her while Drew was out of the house. According to Drew, peak wolves were a stupid myth. But according to Kyle, they existed as less than one half of one percent of the wolf population. They were genetic unicorns, yet here April sat in the house of a peak wolf.
She kept her head down and continued to devour the comfort food Malachi had offered. Oh, how she loved cheese. Already she felt stronger. She looked up, and Malachi sat across the room, watching her, allowing her to watch him in return.
He was the largest wolf she’d ever seen—the breadth of his chest, the span of his shoulders, the spread of his hands on her sides when he’d kept her from falling. The planes of his face were strong and masculine—forehead and cheeks, jaw and chin. His hair was cropped short on the sides, an inch or so longer on top. He wasn’t a redhead or a true blond. If he were a woman, April would have saidstrawberry blond, but that seemed wrong for him, too pretty a phrase. His hair held shades of golden wheat and auburn leaves. A good match for his amber eyes, as though nature had deliberately given him a pleasing palette. Maybe it had. One more advantage on the food chain. Then again, though attractive, he wasn’t preternaturally gorgeous in the way of vampires (or so she’d heard; she had never met a vampire as far as she knew).
She ducked her head to take a few more bites, though he didn’t seem to mind her scrutiny. In a minute she felt ready to meet his eyes again.
“I guess it’s time for details,” she said.
He shook his head. In his strange rasping voice that sounded like gravel under rolling tires, he said, “When you’ve finished eating.”
That was…kind. She took him at his word, and the tension in her neck and shoulders began to ease as she focused on the food. At last her fork scraped the last strands of melted cheese from the bowl. She set it on the side table, drew a satisfied breath, and let it out.
“Thank you, Alpha.”
He seemed to wince. Had Nathan been right? Did he not wish to be called by his title? He said, “Of course. Can I get you anything else?”
A ten-hour nap. A shower. A change of clothes. “I’m fine now.”
