Werewolf and Vampire Mate [Book 1 Complete]

chapter nineteen.

April

Home should not feel like this.

Home should be warmth and comfort and security. But my parents' home in New York is closer to a freaking museum.

Everything has its place. Everything is polished and perfect and there are no exceptions. Things that get scratched or cracked or damaged in any way are thrown in the trash and replaced. For so long, I felt like one of the items in this house. If I revealed a flaw, I would get thrown away as well.

Now, I know better. But I still feel small and feeble as I walk through the foyer and up the stairs toward my old bedroom. Everything is white: the walls, the carpet, the bannister. It's like being caught in a blizzard.

"I'll be in my room," I mumble to my parents.

"Dinner at six o'clock," my mother informs me. She barely spoke a word to me on the drive home. The car ride was very tense. "Be dressed in something more appropriate."

I glance down at the soft cotton pants and t-shirt that I wear. My mom is perpetually in heels, even on days when she doesn't leave the house. I don't know why; who is she trying to impress? Why does she feel the need for everything to be perfect all the time?

These questions haunt me and I don't think I'll ever really have the answer. I suspect she doesn't know herself.

My old bedroom is still exactly as I left it. I start unpacking my bag and am putting a dress on a hanger when I notice North and the other werewolf sitting in their car on the street outside. I go over to the window, peering out. North is glaring up at me.

He's pissed. But at least he's here, far away from Harper.

I'll definitely be telling her not to come down for the weekend. I want to keep her out of this for as long as humanly possible. Maybe it's inevitable that she finds out, I don't know. All I know is last night, when I slept without the comfort of Reed's arms in my dorm, I had horrific nightmares. And I don't want to subject Harper to the same trauma that I'm still recovering from.

It is scary to find out the world is a far more dangerous place than you once thought.

At six o'clock sharp, I go down for dinner in the dining room, dressed in a plain, navy blue dress and ballet flats.

The table is set out perfectly. I stare down at the myriad of cutlery, touching the silverware softly.

My mother brings out plate after plate of food. I try to help her, but she waves me off. At quarter past six, we are sitting at the table, waiting.

Waiting.

My father still hasn't come down from his office. "Maybe I should go and get him..."

My mother shakes her head. "No, he might be on a work call. He'll be down soon."

So we wait. At half past six, finally my father meanders down, typing on his phone. He sits at the table and looks at the plates of food.

"Lamb again? Really, Eleanor?" He sighs, putting his phone down and resigning himself to a meal he clearly doesn't want. After eating crappy takeout or Harper's shitty cooking for the past few years, this meal looks gourmet to me.

My mother says nothing, but I see the way she tenses, her grip on her salad fork tightening.

We eat in silence until she abruptly asks, "Are you ready to explain to us where you were this weekend, April?"

I put down my dinner knife and fork. "I already told you. I was with a friend."

"Were you on drugs?" She questions, like a lawyer searching for the truth or perhaps like a bloodhound.