A dinner well enjoyed.

Lyra's Pov

A few people laughed, and the tension eased slightly. Elena steered the discussion to safer topics, and gradually the dinner became more relaxed. His family had so many juicy secrets of his to talk about.

I found myself genuinely enjoying the stories about pack history and Damien's childhood, though he looked like he wanted to crawl under the table when his grandmother mentioned his phase of trying to become a vegetarian werewolf at age twelve.

"Really?" I grinned at him. "A vegetarian werewolf? How did that work out for you Mr. Damien?"

"It didn't," he said grimly. "I lasted exactly three days and I was back of my old ways."

"He was so miserable," Elena laughed. "Stalking around the house like a storm cloud, snapping at everyone."

"I was not stalking." He rolled his eyes. "Everyone was irritating me that's why."

"You absolutely were," said another pack member. "You scared the mailman, he actually thought you were going to tear him to shreds."

"The mailman recovered."

I was enjoying this glimpse of a younger, less controlled Damien when I noticed someone standing in the doorway. A figure in dark clothes, watching us with an intensity that made my skin crawl.

"Did you see—" I started to ask Damien, but when I looked back, the doorway was empty.

"See what?" He turned in the direction of my hand but there was nothing there

"Nothing. Just thought I saw someone."

But the feeling of being watched lingered, making me glance over my shoulder for the rest of the evening.

As we prepared to leave, Elena pulled me aside. "Don't mind Marcus," she said quietly. "He's protective of the pack, but he means well."

"I can handle protective. It's the ones who smile while they sharpen their knives that worry me."

She studied my face with those intelligent eyes. "You're stronger than you think, dear. And Damien..." She glanced at her grandson, who was saying goodbye to other pack members.

"He needs someone who won't let him retreat into that cold shell of his. Someone who'll fight for him, even when he won't fight for himself."

"We're not actually—" I started, then stopped. The contract was supposed to be secret so I flashed her a smile.

"I know what you are to each other," Elena said softly. "And I know what you could become. Be patient with him and with yourself."

Before I could ask what she meant, Damien appeared at my side.

"Ready to go?" He asked and I replied," "Ready," I said, though I felt anything but.

As we drove away from the pack house, I processed everything that had happened. The acceptance from some, suspicion from others, and that strange moment with the figure in the doorway.

"Your grandmother's wonderful. Marcus..." I shrugged. "Well, every family has one."

"He'll come around." He said. "He's always like that."

"And if he doesn't come around?" I narrowed my eyes at him. "He does look like he has a personal vendetta against me."

Damien's voice went cold. "Then he'll learn to keep his opinions to himself because it's not his business."

The protective note was back, and despite everything, it warmed something inside me.

"So," I said, settling back in my seat, "vegetarian werewolf phase? Please tell me there are photos."

"There are no photos." He retorted.

"Elena seems like the type to keep photo albums." I laughed. "I'll ask her—"

"Lyra."

"I'm just saying, blackmail material could come in handy." I chuckled.

He sighed, but I caught him almost smiling in the reflection of the window.

Maybe this fake marriage thing wouldn't be completely impossible after all.