Page 38 of Alpha Hunt

As Casey turns to leave, our eyes meet briefly. I can read the frustration in her gaze. But there’s also a flicker of something else. I can’t quite decipher it before she looks away.

It’s a sensation that remains with me for the rest of the day as I go through the motions of my duties. The meeting with the betas does little more than confirm that we all agree with Barrett’s plan to stay in Steel Lakes.

“God, I hate meetings,” Gage says under his breath as we finally leave the Gathering Hall. “There’s nothing we said in there that we hadn’t already decided two hours ago.”

“I am sure our Alpha had his reasons for calling us together,” I respond diplomatically.

“Yeah. Because sometimes he can be a dick; that’s his reason.” Gage scowls. “There was a time I would have busted his ass over that. Then he got Alpha rank…and I didn’t.”

“You’re not happy with that?” I look at him.

“Nah. He’s good at it. And God knows I couldn’t sit around shuffling paper all day. It’s not wolf work. I’d lose my mind.”

We’re walking away from the Gathering Hall through the now-familiar streets and alleys that were once a part of the inner workings of the old steel mill. I’m amazed at how these wolves have made this place fit their needs so naturally.

“So, what do you say?” Gage is looking at me.

“Sorry, what?”

“Daydreaming about your new mate, huh?” He snorts a laugh. “I asked if you and Stone would come over tomorrow evening. Dinner. Savannah wants to thank you again. And we thought maybe Casey would like to see the babies.”

I consider this for a moment. “I think she’d like that.” It occurs to me that making decisions on her behalf would probably rub my mate up the wrong way, but it’s territory we’ll have to learn to navigate at some point.

“Good.” He slaps a hand on my shoulder. “Around seven should work. I’ll cook.” With a nod, he moves off, and I’m left there, staring.

Dinner arrangements. Visiting neighbors and their young. Socializing with my mate.

This is all so…domesticated.

I like it. I’m still smiling by the time I get home.

Home.

I like that too.

I unlock the door to our apartment, the warm glow of the lamps inside beckoning me. As I step inside, I’m greeted by the sight of Casey, her auburn hair pulled back in an uncharacteristically messy ponytail. I find myself drawn to the way the strands have come loose, framing her face in a way that softens her usually severe appearance. It’s a small detail, but one that captivates me, a glimpse of the woman beneath the tough exterior. I can’t help but wonder what she would look like with her hair cascading freely down her back.

“How was the meeting with the beta council?” she asks, leaning against the kitchen counter.

I pull my wayward thoughts back in line as I close the door behind me. “It went as expected. We discussed Barrett’s plan to stay in Sweetwaters a bit longer, gathering intel on the wolf sanctuary.”

I make my way to the kitchen, careful to relay every detail I can remember. I know she’s feeling left out, and the last thing I want is for her to think I’m trying to come between her and her pack duties.

As I talk, a rich aroma catches my attention. Casey gestures to a plate on the counter, a steak sandwich piled high with meat. I stop in my tracks, surprise registering.

“I made dinner,” she says, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “I figured I owed you since…you know…breakfast.” She’s trying to reciprocate my gesture, trying to make the best of our situation.

I swallow down a lump in my throat that wasn’t there a moment ago. It’s a simple meal, but the effort she’s put into it is clear. Composing myself, I sit down and take a bite, savoring the flavors that burst across my tongue.

“This is delicious,” I tell her sincerely, and I mean it. No one has ever cooked for me before. It’s as if she’s prepared a gourmet feast just for me.

We eat in silence for a moment, the only sounds the occasional clink of cutlery against plates.

As we finish our meal, Casey clears her throat as if to say something, then clears our plates instead. I watch her move about the kitchen. She opens and closes closets, still unfamiliar with the layout. It’s an awkward moment, and I know she wants to fill the silence.

“Is there something you want to speak to me about?” I prompt. I don’t need to ask her. As I look at her, her words begin forming in my mind. I let her say them out loud.

“I think you should sleep in the master bedroom with me,” she blurts.