The Welcome Dinner

The full moon rose as our car pulled through the gates of Dark Moon.

I watched it through the window, huge and silver above the pines, and felt Freya press against the inside of my ribs like a dog straining at a leash.

Look at it, she breathed. Oh, look at it.

I’m looking. Now stay down.

You can’t make me.

I can try.

Beside me, Zion glanced over. He’d been quiet the whole drive, his face turned toward his own window. Now his gaze moved over me, down the midnight silk of my dress and back up, and lingered for a beat too long before he looked away.

He hadn’t said a word about the dress.

But he’d looked.

*****

---

The Dark Moon packhouse glowed with candlelight. Music drifted from the great hall, along with laughter and the clink of crystal.

I stepped through the doors on Zion’s arm, and forty heads turned.

Silk. Sequins. Tailored suits. Exactly as I remembered.

Except this time, I belonged.

The conversation faltered. Someone whispered my name. Across the room, the women who used to snicker behind their hands at me were staring, and not because I’d shown up in a faded cotton sundress.

Then the crowd parted, and Jessi swept toward us in a gown the color of champagne.

She was smiling. Already halfway into her hug, arms lifting, the sympathetic little crease forming between her brows, ready for the poor, underdressed stepsister.

Then she actually saw me.

She stopped dead.

For one second, her face did nothing at all. Then her smile snapped back into place, a fraction too bright.

“Kira,” she said. “You look... I thought I said casual.”

“You did.” I smiled back. “I must have confused you.”

Her eyes flickered. Somewhere behind her, someone coughed into a glass.

“Well.” She laughed lightly and turned to Zion, resting her fingers on his sleeve. “Zion. It’s so good to see you.”

“Jessi.” His voice was even. I couldn’t read it at all.

Her hand stayed on his arm a moment longer than it should have. Then Dakota appeared at her shoulder, and she let go.

My stepbrother looked me up and down with open disgust. “Didn’t take long to spend his money.”

“Dakota,” I said pleasantly. “Congratulations on your marriage. I don’t think I ever said.”

His jaw tightened. He steered Jessi away without another word.

*****

---

The dining table stretched the length of the great hall, set with silver and white candles. I found the place cards easily enough.

Zion’s was near the head of the table, right beside Jessi’s.

Mine was at the very far end, between two junior warriors and a young omega who looked as if she’d been placed there as a punishment.

I’d sat in that chair before. In my last life, I spent the entire evening staring down the length of the table, watching my husband lean toward another woman, too far away to hear what made them both laugh.

I picked up my card, ready to take my seat.

A hand closed over mine.

Zion took the card from my fingers without a word, walked to the head of the table, and set it down in the place beside his own. Then he looked at the man whose name was already there.

“Do you mind?”

The man rose from his seat with an easy laugh. Mid-fifties, broad-shouldered, his graying hair neatly combed and his eyes crinkling warmly at the corners.

“Not at all, Alpha. Newlyweds should sit together.” He turned to me and held out his hand. “Luna Kira. I don’t believe we’ve properly met. Lukan, Beta of Dark Moon. Jessi’s father.”

I took his hand. It was warm and dry, his grip gentle.

“I was sorry to hear about your mother,” he said quietly, just for me. “Truly. Whatever anyone says, no one deserves to suffer like that. If you ever need anything, my door is open.”

I stared at him.

No one at Dark Moon had ever spoken to me like that. Not once, in either of my lives.

“Thank you,” I managed.

He patted my hand, smiled, and moved down the table to take my old seat at the far end, chatting easily with the junior warriors as though he’d chosen it.

I like him, Freya said uncertainly. I think.

So do I, I thought.

I didn’t know why that made the back of my neck prickle.

---

Dinner was torture.

Not because of Jessi, though she spent the meal leaning toward Zion, touching his wrist, laughing at everything he said. Not because of Dakota, who glared at me over every course.

Because of the moon.

It hung in the tall windows, silver light pouring across the table, and with every minute it climbed higher, Freya pushed harder.

Sweat prickled along my hairline. My bones ached. My fingers curled so tightly around my fork that the metal bent.

Let me out, Freya whispered. Just for a minute. Just to feel it.

If you come out here, in front of all of them, in front of him...

He’d know, she said dreamily. Wouldn’t that be nice?

No.

When a server leaned in to refill my wine, a dark red cabernet, I remembered the stain spreading down my sundress and pushed my chair back an inch.

The server’s elbow caught on nothing. Red wine splashed across the white tablecloth where my lap had been a second earlier.

“Oh!” Jessi gasped from beside Zion. “Kira, are you all right?”

“Perfectly,” I said, dabbing the tablecloth with my napkin. I didn’t look at her.

I felt Zion turn his head toward me. Felt him breathe in. Felt his attention settle on me, sharp and curious.

I kept my eyes on my plate and my hand clamped on the edge of the table, and I held on.

*****

---

Just as the dessert plates were cleared, Jessi rose and tapped her glass with a silver spoon.

The hall went quiet.

“I’d like to make a toast,” she said, glowing in the candlelight. “To Zion and Kira. Welcome to the family.”

Glasses lifted. A polite murmur rippled down the table.

“And,” Jessi went on, reaching for Dakota’s hand and pulling him to his feet beside her, “since everyone’s here, we have a little news of our own.”

She placed her free hand on her flat stomach and smiled.

“Dakota and I are expecting.”

The hall erupted. Cheers. Applause. Someone whooped. Hati rose from the head of the table to clasp his son’s shoulder.

I didn’t move.

The noise faded to a dull roar in my ears. Freya fell silent. Even the moon seemed to go cold.

Because I remembered this baby.

I remembered Jessi on the floor at the bottom of a staircase. Blood on the marble. Dakota’s hand around my throat.

You did this. You pushed her.

I hadn’t. But it hadn’t mattered.

Across the table, Jessi met my eyes over the rim of her glass.

And smiled.