I made a beeline for my mom’s room. She was propped up against the headboard, engrossed in her phone.
“Mom,” I called out, urgency lacing my voice.
She glanced up, her face morphing into concern at the sight of me. “Honey, what happened?”
“He wants to meet me tomorrow,” I confessed.
Her face showed confusion for a moment before realization dawned.
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” She patted the spot next to her, inviting me to sit.
“You’ll meet him tomorrow. Talk to him. If you like him, great. If he gives you the creeps, then say no.”
The luna had given me similar advice. I took a deep breath, wondering if I was blowing things out of proportion. My emotions had a knack for getting the best of me.
I wasn’t sure what I was so afraid of. I had nothing to fear; the alpha and the luna would ensure my safety. I knew this. But I think my real fear was not living up to Jerome’s expectations. I hated to admit it, but I could be incredibly insecure. I wondered if my anxiety was rooted in this insecurity, and I didn’t like the answer.
The next day, I woke up at five in the morning. Waking up early wasn’t unusual for me. I usually aimed for seven at the latest, but I’d only managed to fall asleep at three the previous night. Waking up at five was not a good sign. I also knew from experience that anything less than six hours of sleep left me functioning at less than my best.
I remembered how Atlas, my best friend, had once bet me money that I couldn’t act like a decent human being without enough sleep. I took him up on it and ended up with enough money to buy half a dozen books. I chuckled at the memory. God, I missed that idiot.
I wanted to share my feelings with Atlas, but how do you explain finding your mate to a human who knows nothing about werewolves? I tried to go back to sleep, but my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, none of them making any sense. I couldn’t even put into words what I was feeling, let alone thinking.
I groaned and decided to distract myself with random cat videos on the internet. Atlas always said that the internet was created for one thing: sharing cute animal videos. I wholeheartedly agree. There is no anxiety in the world that can withstand the power of YouTube’s fluffy animals.
We’d decided to meet at my house. Or rather, the decision had been made for me. Jerome was coming over for dinner. With my mom and my brother. I tried not to dwell on it, but it was hard. I wondered if they would like Jerome, then realized how silly that was. I didn’t even know if I would like Jerome.
The picture hadn’t done him justice. The first thing I noticed was the mole under his lip, which hadn’t been visible in the photo. My palms were sweaty, but I shook his hand anyway. He had green eyes, and his brown hair was slicked back. He looked good, and I had to fight the urge to stare.
“Hello, I am Jerome.” He was dressed in a black shirt and blue jeans. The most basic outfit in the world, yet he still looked good. Then I realized I was wearing something similar. My top was a bit tighter, showing a sliver of my stomach, but the colors were the same. I had to suppress a laugh. If we went out like this, people would think we’d coordinated our outfits.
But it was just a coincidence.
“Nice to meet you. I am Sylvia.”
He nodded and withdrew his hand. His hand was softer than I’d expected, and warm. Then my attention shifted to his voice; it was deep, but not startlingly so.
I took another look at his face and noticed the dark circles under his eyes.
We were both just standing there, staring at each other. I cleared my throat, about to invite him in, when I was suddenly pushed aside. I let out a surprised yelp as my brother’s back filled my view.
“It’s you!” he exclaimed, greeting Jerome as if they were long-time rivals. I mentally sighed.
Jerome looked taken aback for a moment before his expression turned to one of confusion. “Who are you?” His eyes flicked to mine as he asked.
I sighed. “He’s my younger brother.” I pushed him aside and shot him a glare.
“I’m Dylan.” My brother ignored me and extended his hand. They shook hands.
“Why don’t you come in?” Dylan turned and headed inside, with Jerome following. I trailed behind them.
“Sorry!” I muttered to Jerome.
He gave me a small smile. “It’s fine.”
He was supposed to have dinner with us. My mom wanted to meet him and my brother wanted to interrogate him. The image was almost comical: Jerome on the sofa, my mom on his left, my brother on his right. He looked like a hostage. I would have laughed if it wasn’t happening to my mate.
But I knew this was inevitable. In wolf societies, meeting the family is one of the first things mates do. It’s a tradition that’s been followed for generations. Moments like this remind me of how different wolves are from humans. But being different isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
“How many girlfriends did you have before my sister?” Dylan’s question interrupted my thoughts, earning him a sharp glare from me.
“Only one,” Jerome answered politely. Dylan looked surprised.
“How many years?” I wondered if it was even appropriate to ask that. Surely, asking your sister’s mate about his ex wasn’t polite conversation.
Jerome cleared his throat. “Umm…” His eyes flicked to me before returning to Dylan. “I’m not really sure.” He seemed a bit embarrassed, and Dylan looked pleased.
“Oh, what a gentleman.”
“Dylan, manners!” Mom interjected.
Dylan sighed. “Sorry, I was just trying to be funny.”
“Oh, one more question!” The look on Dylan’s face told me his next question would be wildly inappropriate.
“If Alpha Silvic and you were to fight, who would win?” I narrowed my eyes at him. That was definitely not an appropriate question.
“Of course, me!” Jerome smirked. Dylan looked pleased with the answer, while I was screaming internally. Another alpha being stronger than your own was not something to be pleased about. After that, Dylan let Mom ask her questions.
Mom stuck to the basics. His age was twenty. He was younger than me, which made me wonder how powerful his wolf must be for him to be an alpha at such a young age. Mom’s voice was soft as she asked her questions, and I could see Jerome slowly relaxing. Maybe it was the way he leaned back on the sofa, his hands resting in his lap instead of crossed.
Mom was a people person.
I zoned out, my gaze fixated on the small moon tattoo on Jerome’s left wrist. It was cute, and not something I’d expected on Jerome, the big, bad wolf. I’d expected to feel nervous around him, but I didn’t. Not even a little. I felt no fear in the presence of this supposedly dangerous wolf.
