Chapter 28

Killian

We stood frozen, the only sound was an occasional drop of water hitting the floor as it dripped off of Elan’s clothing and hair.

I blinked in disbelief at what I saw, this wild creature that snatched the body of the squeaky clean Elena I knew. The grime under her fingernails and dirt across her cheek weren’t exactly my biggest turn-ons, but something about the way she stood there roused me the cooking daze I had been in.

This woman seemed feral, powerful, and the look on her face that the entire world should be damned for getting in her way.

“Elena, by the goddess, you look…”

She saw the look in my eye, the hunger for my Mate, and she rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

“Keep your dirty thoughts to yourself, please,” she said, moving to the sink. “I’ve had a long day.”

I cleared my throat, assuming formality and adjusting my trousers. “I can see that. Care to explain?”

I gestured to my own clothing with the spoon in my hand.

“Mr. Morrison’s tractor was stuck in the mud,” she said, bluntly. Then, with a wicked grin,”thank goodness Tiffany and I were there to help him.”

“Tiffany? In the mud?” I clapped the spoon onto the counter, the sharp sound intensifying my shock. “How did you get her to do that?”

“I am a Luna, that’s how” she whipped around to face me, her hands still soapy. “And if she insists on following me around, she can at least be helpful to me and others. Manual labor is good for her— it builds character.”

She rinsed her hands, saw that there was still dirt in her nails, then shrugged it off. It should have been disgusting, but something about her attitude made it seem endearing. The old Elena would be mortified if one hear was out of place. This new version had hair that was so dirty you could hardly see the white of it, but her face was serene.

“I heard from the nursing home,” I said, trying to get a conversation going. “I thought it was a prank at first, you making and delivering all that food.”

“Our elders are respected, but not enough is done for them in their everyday lives.” she said casually, as if this was a fact everyone should know. “They’re lonely, I think. And it doesn't take a lot of energy or effort to show someone that we care. I think we could set up a better volunteer service, maybe a rotating schedule for home-cooked meals. If everyone contributes it doesn't feel like too much for any one individual.”

“A good idea.”

“It just feels hypocritical, to preach one thing and not back it up with action or policy,” she spoke quickly, her cheeks flushed with enthusiasm. “I can change that. I can change a lot.”

“Very honorable of you,” I said with a nod.

She paused, assessing me. Her face was pinched around the eyes. “Are you mocking me?”

“No, of course not!” She was really on the offensive today. “I’m complimenting you, trying to. I’m impressed with how you’ve taken on these good deeds, showing up for the Pack members who depend on us to guide and protect them.”

“Okay, thank you, I guess.” she said.

She looked at me, still wary but with a spark of something else. Her gaze trailed down my body and back up to my face, her chest rising and falling with her breath. When her eyes met mine they were changed, and I felt the pull of our fated connection. I had a vision of picking her up onto the countertop, slowly peeling off her wet blouse. Her cheeks flushed as if she read my thoughts, and her lips parted.

I took a step toward her, risking it.

“Elena—“

“What’s in the pot?”

She came towards me at the stove, and I held my breath. Taking the spoon I had dropped, she dipped it into the pan I was cooking in.

“Nothing special, a ragout— how hard could it be?” I was suddenly self-conscious. I had no delusion about being a great cook, but I thought even I couldn’t mess up a dish as simple as beef ragout.

She went through the motions of wafting steam from the pot, blowing on the spoon — an act that seem salacious to me in the moment— and carefully tasting a bit of the stew. Her mind was turning, but her expression didn’t give much away. She purposefully avoided my eyes, torturing me.

“Well?” I asked finally, trying not to sound desperate.

“Not the worst thing I’ve tasted, to be true,” she said putting the spoon back down. She took a step back, leaning on the counter with her arms crossed. There was an audible squelch as she compressed her arms together. “Why are you cooking anyway? You never cook.”

“That’s not true! I’ve cooked, once…or twice,” I said in defense, knowing as I said it that it probably wasn’t true. “Toast?”

She squinted her eyes in amusement, but wouldn’t let herself smile.

“It’s never too late to learn, I suppose.”

“Exactly, the cook gave me a book and some general instructions,” I said, thinking maybe she was opening up to me. “I think she now sees her Alpha as no more skilled than a child, but so be it.”

“The cook has a name,” Elena said with disdain. “It’s Diana.”

A barb.

“Yes, right, I know,” I replied, slightly off balance.

“Do you? Do you really take the time to learn anything about the people surrounding you?”

“What on earth are you accusing me of?” I stood up taller and squared off with her. “Rich coming from a Luna so absent from her duties I had to get a Beta wolf to take over for her.”

“You wouldn’t let me do anything!” she said, but I continued.

“A Luna who stopped cooking for her husband and then criticizes and insults him when he tries to take on the task for himself. I thought it might be a nice surprise to come home to.”

She was quiet after I said this, not agreeing with me, but I hoped that maybe she could at least see some things from my perspective. Her eyes were unreadable, but I saw some of the anger ease out of her shoulders as she looked from me to the pot on the stove.

“Honey,” she said to the air, “in the stew, it will balance out the spices. And less starch next time— it should be delicate, not gloopy.”

I knew better than to smile, though I was pleased something got through to her.

“Gloopy is bad, got it,” I said evenly.

She was staring at the pot, eyelids heavy with fatigue though her mind kept chewing on some idea. I took a step towards her, and when she didn’t pull away I placed one hand gently on the back of her neck.

She flinched, expelling my hand as her frenzied eyes jerked up to meet mine. Some horror story was written on her face as she looked at me then, and I almost thought she was possessed by some new demon.

She backed away from me, keeping her arms close to her chest like she was suddenly aware of getting mud on everything. With one last long look of fear and loathing, she turned and left. I heard her wet footsteps retreating up the stairs.

I almost jumped out of my skin when the cook came through the other door, forgetting I was in there.

“Oh, Alpha Killian, I am so sorry!” she said, hand to her breast.

“It’s alright, I’m finishing up,” I told her as I turned off the stove and covered the pot. “Help yourself to some ragout, Diana.”

I just saw her faced drop in awe at me using her name, before I turned and left the room.