Something Like Jealousy

RHEA'S POV

I stare out the tinted window as Holmes drives up the long, winding driveway to the pack house. The trees blur into a green smear, but I'm not really seeing them. All I can hear is the doctor's voice, playing on repeat like a broken record in my head:

"Congratulations Luna, you are four weeks gone."

Four weeks. One month. A tiny, fragile life is growing inside me while everything else in my world collapses. My hand drifts to my still-flat stomach, and my fingers splay across it before I catch myself and pull away. The motion feels dangerous, like acknowledging what is happening might make it more real. But it's already real. There is a baby, Miles' baby, growing inside me, and I have no idea what to do about it.

"You will need to come back in two weeks for another check-up," the doctor had said, her smile too bright, too oblivious to the storm raging inside me. "Everything looks perfect so far."

Perfect. Nothing about this is perfect. Miles wants a divorce. He made that crystal clear.

"I'm only twenty-one," he had said. "I should be enjoying my life, not trapped in a loveless marriage."

And now I'm carrying his child, a child he explicitly told me he wasn't ready for. A child that will tie us together even as he is desperate to break free.

I close my eyes, pressing my fingertips against my temples. What am I going to do? Keep it? Tell him? The festivals will last a week, and I promised to sign the divorce papers after. By then, I will be another week pregnant with the child of a man who loathes me.

"Dr. Harrow," I had whispered just before leaving her office, "I would appreciate your discretion about this."

Her eyes had softened with understanding, or maybe even pity. "Of course, Luna. Patient confidentiality is sacred to me."

But we both know how pack dynamics work. Secrets have a way of slithering through cracks, especially when they involve the Alpha and his Luna. Werewolves have keen noses. It won't be long before someone catches the change in my scent.

"Luna? Luna Rhea?"

Holmes' voice filters through my thoughts, startling me. He has turned in his seat, looking at me with concern creasing his weathered face.

"I'm sorry," I blink, realizing we've stopped moving. "What did you say?"

"We've arrived, Luna. Are you feeling well? You look pale."

I force a smile that feels brittle on my face. "I'm fine, just tired. Thank you, Holmes."

As I step out of the car, the grand mansion looms before me, all stone and glass and sharp angles. Once, I had thought it beautiful and intimidating in its elegance. Now it just feels like an elaborate prison, holding memories of Miles' coldness, of nights spent alone while he was thinking about Roxy, of a love that was never returned.

I take a deep breath and start walking toward the entrance, my heels clicking against the cobblestone path. My mind races with the thought of the life growing inside me. A boy with Miles' gray eyes? A girl with my blonde hair? A child who will grow up knowing their father never loved their mother?

A sudden blast of a car horn jerks me from my thoughts. I flinch violently, and my body reacts before my mind can catch up. My heel catches on an uneven stone, and I feel myself pitching forward. The world tilts, and I throw my hands out instinctively, but it's too late. I'm falling.

I brace for impact, but it never comes. Instead, strong arms catch me, pulling me back from disaster. For one wild, foolish moment, I think it's Miles, but the scent is all wrong; cedar and night air instead of Miles' sandalwood and spice.

"Careful there, Luna Rhea," a deep voice says, amusement warming the words.

I look up into Alpha Yuri Donovitch's face, and my breath catches. He is smiling down at me, his dark eyes glinting with concern beneath his long lashes. He is too close, and I suddenly feel self-conscious, aware of how my body must look: exhausted, stressed, and possibly still smelling of antiseptic from the clinic.

"Alpha Yuri," I stammer, trying to regain my composure. "I didn't know you were arriving today."

He helps me straighten up, but his hand remains at my elbow, steadying me. "Just got in. Thought I would surprise everyone." He tilts his head, studying me. "Are you hurt? That was quite a fall you almost took."

Alpha Yuri Donovitch is the Alpha of Silverstone Pack. He was sent here on exchange to train and learn when he was sixteen. The exchange program was designed to bring peace among the packs in our region. It is a long-standing tradition. Every future Alpha is sent off at sixteen to train with another pack, learn their ways, adjust to new changes, and hopefully forge connections that might prevent future wars. They spend four years in another pack before returning to take on their responsibilities.

He was the only one nice to me during those years I waited for Miles to return, and only he knew the truth about my necklace which Roxy stole and claimed my identity. He tried to fight for me, but he had a really short time to stay before going back to his own pack.

"No, I'm fine," I say too quickly, smoothing down my dress with trembling hands. "Just clumsy. Thank you for catching me."

"Never clumsy," he says, his eyes suddenly serious. "Just distracted. Something on your mind, Luna?"

A hysterical laugh nearly bubbles up my throat. Something on my mind? Only the tiny life growing inside me, the husband who wants to leave me, the sister who hates me, and now the Alpha of Silverstone Pack standing too close, watching me too carefully.

"Nothing important," I lie, forcing another smile. "Just pack business. The festivals are in a few days, and there's still so much to prepare."

Yuri's eyes narrow slightly, and I remember too late that he has always been able to tell when I'm not being entirely truthful. But he doesn't call me out on it, he just offers his arm instead.

"Allow me to escort you inside," he says. "I was heading to the west wing anyway."

***

MILES' POV

I tap my pen against the polished surface of the conference table, watching my staff squirm under my gaze.

"The Silverstone Alpha arrived today," I say, my voice cutting through the silence. "I expect every protocol to be followed to the letter. No exceptions."

The words come out sharper than intended, and I notice Evans shoot Rico a quick glance. I ignore it. I've been on edge all morning, and I can't pinpoint why. Or rather, I refuse to acknowledge why. Her face keeps flashing in my mind; wounded eyes, trembling lips, the sound of her body sliding down the door after I told her I wanted a divorce.

"Alpha, we've already prepared the Blue Suite as requested," my head of hospitality says, her voice careful. "Fresh linens, the special soaps from the Northern lands packs, and the ceremonial welcome basket."

I nod curtly. "Good. What about security?" I turn to my head gamma. "I want extra patrols during the festivals. Doubled at night."

As he starts outlining the security rotations, my mind drifts again. Rhea's face swims before me, pale and drawn as she stood in our bedroom three nights ago. The crack in her voice when she told me to get out. The red mark on my cheek where she slapped me. It was the first time she has ever struck back. I deserved it. I know I did. The words I said to her were unforgivable, even in anger.

"...and we've arranged for the visiting Alphas to have personal escorts at all times," someone is saying.

I blink, forcing myself back to the present. "What?" I ask, sharper than necessary.

The gamma falters. "Personal escorts, sir. For the visiting Alphas. As is traditional."

"Right." I nod, trying to focus. "Make sure they are our best warriors. No young pups trying to show off."

A memory flashes; Rhea on our first night together, shy and uncertain but so eager to please. The way she had looked at me like I hung the moon. The gentle way she had touched me and whispered my name. I had been drunk, yes, but not too drunk to remember that tenderness, so different from Roxy's seduction.

I shake my head, angry at myself. What the fûck is wrong with me? Eighteen months of loathing her for trapping me in this marriage, and now I can't stop thinking about her. About how small she looked when I demanded the divorce. About how she didn't even fight me, just asked for time until after the festivals.

"Alpha?" Evans' voice breaks through my thoughts. "The menu for the welcome feast?"

"Yes," I say, trying to sound decisive. My fingers drum against the table, a nervous habit I thought I had broken years ago. "Whatever the head chef recommends, but make sure there are options for the northern land packs. They don't eat red meat."

My mind wanders again, and this time I don't fight it. I remember the night of my coronation, how the world had spun around me, the taste of whiskey heavy on my tongue. I had stumbled into my room, but it was dark, and I was too drunk to notice the different scent. There had been a figure in the bedroom, and in my inebriated state, I had thought it was Roxy. I had reached for her, and she had reached back.

Only in the morning, with sunlight streaming through the windows, did I realize my mistake. Rhea, not Roxy, lay beside me, her hair spread across my pillow, her skin marked with my teeth. The horror of that moment still lives in me, the realization that I had claimed the wrong sister, that I had betrayed Roxy with her own twin, even though the said twin was my true mate.

"...and the gift bags for the delegations are ready," the events coordinator is saying. "Each customized for their pack's preferences."

I realize I've missed half the conversation. "Good," I say, hoping it's an appropriate response. I look down at my notes, but the words swim before my eyes. I can't concentrate. Not when all I can think about is Rhea.

My pen snaps between my fingers, and everyone at the table goes still.

"That will be all for now," I say, rising abruptly. "Evans, Rico, stay behind. The rest of you are dismissed."

They file out quickly, not meeting my eyes. The door clicks shut, leaving just the three of us in the suddenly too-quiet room.

"What the hell is going on with you?" Rico asks, never one to mince words. "You look like you're about to shift and tear someone's throat out."

"Nothing," I growl. "I'm fine."

Evans gives me a long, measured look. "Is this about the divorce?" he asks quietly. "Or about Alpha Yuri arriving early?"

My head snaps up. "What does Yuri have to do with anything?"

Rico and Evans exchange a glance. "Nothing," Evans says quickly. "Just that he is here a day early, and you seem... tense."

I ignore the comment. "I need you both to handle the welfare check on the western parts. Make sure they have enough food stores for winter."

"Now?" Rico asks, eyebrow raised. "In the middle of festival preparations?"

"Yes, now," I snap. "It shouldn't take more than a day. You can be back tomorrow evening."

Another look passes between them, but they know better than to argue. "Alright," Evans says. "We will leave right away."

After they leave, I walk to the window, staring out at the grounds below. The western wing of the mansion is visible from here, its stone facade bathed in afternoon sunlight. Movement catches my eye, a flash of blonde hair, a familiar figure walking along the path. It's Rhea.

Okay, now I'm going to be seeing her everywhere too?

But she is not alone. Yuri Donovitch is with her, and his tall frame is bent slightly toward her as if hanging on her every word. As I watch, he catches her by the elbow, steadying her. She looks up at him, and even from this distance, I can see the smile that crosses her face, small and fragile, but real. A smile. Have I ever seen her smile at me?

Something hot and violent surges through me, a possessive rage I have no right to feel. I watch as Yuri offers her his arm, and she takes it after a moment's hesitation. They walk together toward the west wing entrance, their heads bent close in conversation. She laughs at something he says, she actually laughs, and the sound carries faintly through the glass.

My jaw clenches so hard I feel a molar creak in protest. A vein pulses at my temple, and my hands curl into fists at my sides. I hate this feeling. I hate that I care. I hate that after everything, after telling her I want a divorce, after spending eighteen months making her feel unwanted, I can't stand the sight of her smiling at another man.

I move to my desk in three long strides, snatching up my phone. My fingers grip it so tightly, my knuckles turn white. I practically punch the phone screen as I type, my eyes never leaving the sight of Rhea and Yuri disappearing into the west wing.