SHE'S FAMILY

Tyra's POV

I had slept with the note under my pillow like a child hiding a bad report card, and I woke up with my hand still curled around it.

For most of the night, I had lain awake staring at the ceiling, listening to every creak of the old house and every rustle of wind against my window, waiting for gold eyes to appear in the dark. 

Every time I finally drifted off, I was dragged straight back into the dream, with hands on my skin and voices in my ear and that blinding silver light tearing them away just before I could see their faces. 

Only this time, the dream had smelled faintly of pine and woodsmoke, and I had woken up aching, frustrated and furious at my own body.

So when my mother knocked on my door at noon to remind me that today was the official rehearsal for the opening of the inauguration, attendance mandatory, I had to fight the very strong urge to throw my pillow at her.

Now I stood in the doorway of the great pack hall, smoothing invisible wrinkles from the front of my dress and trying to remember how to breathe like a normal person.

The note was folded in the pocket of my cardigan. I hadn't been able to make myself leave it behind.

The hall had been completely transformed overnight. Golden banners hung from the high rafters, the Forrest crest gleaming on each of them under the light of a dozen crystal chandeliers. 

Long tables were being dressed in white linen, and the air buzzed with excitement, voices and the clink of silver.

And almost all the work was being done by omegas.

My mouth tightened as I watched them hurry back and forth, arms loaded with heavy trays and centerpieces, polishing silverware and crystal while the higher-ranked wolves stood around chatting and pointing at things. 

I knew it wasn't nearly as bad here as it was in some of the more traditional packs, where omegas weren't even allowed to eat at the same tables as everyone else, but it still made my skin crawl. 

For a pack with this much money and power, they clung to their ancient hierarchy like it was a holy relic.

A young omega girl stumbled under the weight of a tray stacked with crystal glasses, and before I could think about it, I crossed the space and caught the edge of it, steadying it for her.

She looked up at me with wide, startled eyes, like no one above her rank had ever helped her carry anything in her life.

"Thank you, miss," she whispered, flustered, bobbing a quick little bow before hurrying off.

I let out a slow breath.

It's none of your business, I reminded myself. Nothing in this world was my business anymore.

But the moment I stepped further inside, the familiar prickle of stares crawled across my skin, and the whispers started up like clockwork. 

I forced myself to ignore them and kept my eyes on the floor in front of me.

Then a scent brushed against my senses, woodsmoke and sandalwood, and my whole body went still.

Alaric stood near the stage at the far end of the hall, giving clipped orders to the decorators. 

He was tall and immaculate in a dark, perfectly tailored suit, and the sight of him made something low in my belly tighten so sharply that I had to look away.

Osric was on the other side of the room, lounging near a group of young, wealthy-looking wolves in designer clothes, laughing easily at something one of them had said.

Then he looked up and saw me, and his laughter died almost instantly.

My stomach flipped.

We hadn't spoken since he practically ran away from me in that corridor yesterday. I had spent half the night replaying that moment, the darkness in his eyes and the way his gaze had dropped to my mouth, and I had no idea what I was supposed to say to him now. 

Were we friends? Were we pretending it never happened?

Before I could find a corner to disappear into, he was already crossing the room toward me, leaving his confused friends staring after him.

"You came," he said, a warm, slightly cautious smile curving his lips as he stopped in front of me.

The uncertainty in his eyes twisted something in my chest. He was waiting to see if I would push him away again.

"I was told it was mandatory," I replied, but it came out softer than I meant it to, and I found myself giving him a small, awkward smile.

The relief that flashed across his face was so obvious that it was almost painful to watch. His grin came back full force, bright and boyish.

"Then I'm glad you're following orders for once," he teased lightly.

A small huff of laughter escaped me before I could stop it. That was the thing about Osric. He could walk into the middle of any tension and somehow turn it into warmth.

A few of the pack members nearby turned to stare at us, their eyes narrowing with open curiosity. Osric ignored them completely and stepped a little closer.

"Are you okay now?" he asked quietly, his voice dropping so only I could hear. "You looked really pale yesterday."

My fingers twitched toward the pocket of my cardigan, toward the folded note, and I forced them still.

"I'm fine," I said.

He searched my face for a long moment, like he could hear the lie in my heartbeat. "You know you can tell me if anything is wrong, right?" he asked gently.

I looked up sharply, ready to brush him off, but the sincerity in his blue eyes stopped me cold. There was no pity in them and no expectation, only a quiet, steady patience that made my throat tighten.

For a second, I almost told him everything.

"Osric!" one of the young men he had been talking to called from across the hall, his voice loud and mocking. "Aren't you going to introduce us to your guest?"

Osric's jaw tightened, and the warmth in his face cooled in an instant.

"Are you blind?" he called back, his voice carrying across the entire hall without him even raising it. "She's not a guest. She's family."

The murmurs around us shifted into stunned silence as he moved to stand slightly behind me and rested his hand firmly against the small of my back.

It was possessive and protective and completely deliberate, and the whole room saw it. In ten years, no one in this pack had ever seen either of the twins so much as stand next to me in public.

His touch sent a tremor racing up my spine. The heat of his palm seeped through the thin fabric of my dress, and his scent settled over me like a blanket, pine and sun-warmed skin, until my knees went embarrassingly weak and a slow, throbbing warmth bloomed between my thighs.

He had called me family instead of mate. He had chosen the word that would protect me instead of the one that would expose me, and somehow, that small, careful choice made my eyes sting more than anything he could have said.

"Osric," I whispered urgently, keeping my face neutral. "You're causing a scene."

"Good," he murmured back, his smile lazy but his eyes sharp as they swept over the watching crowd. "Maybe now they'll think twice before they talk."

"Let go," I hissed, though even I could hear that my voice lacked any real conviction.

His hand lingered against my back for a heartbeat longer, his thumb brushing one slow, deliberate stroke along my spine that made me bite the inside of my cheek. Then it fell away.

"You feel it too, don't you?" he asked softly, leaning down until his breath brushed my ear. "So why do you keep fighting it?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I lied, staring straight ahead.

"Liar," he said softly, with a fond little smile, and walked away before I could find a reply.