The rumblings in my gut were getting louder. I follow the aroma to the kitchen, which is savory and sweet. A man in his 80s was chasing some children who were giggling and running out of the kitchen. I smiled at the tiny kids as I hurriedly moved out of their way. A chef’s hat-wearing man yelled to the unheeding kids, “You guys can’t eat the raw cookie dough!” There’s a definite southern accent in his speech. Then he looks at me and scowls. “Who are you?”
“Natalie,” I grinned back at him. I’m shocked by how everyone is treating me like I was some kind of special guest when I was actually just a prisoner here against my choice. “Luna. I’m Seth,” the man said, reaching out his hand towards me. “It’s nice to finally meet the Alpha’s special guest.” Why did they all greet me so kindly and warmly? I grinned and said, “It’s nice meeting you too, Seth.” The people in this area were incredibly kind, with the exception of that egotistical ruler Dimitri.
“Dad—” a girl who appeared to be my age,
