Everything here is unfamiliar to me. After I talk with Lucien some more, admitting I have no parents(I conveniently leave my stepfather out), he shows me where I'll be staying--his large, Spanish-style house that even has those weird chubby naked baby fountains out in front. I'm expecting him to lead me out to a small outhouse in the backyard or a servant's quarters in the basement so I'm not prepared when Lucien shows me to a room and tells me I'll be staying there.
An actual room.
It's furnished and has a nice bed and bookcase, a closet, even posters and paintings hanging on the wall. I can't believe Lucien is letting me stay here, despite being from Dark Moon. However, he told me to keep that fact a secret. I can absolutely not let anyone see my mark or tell anyone my true pack. If anyone asks, I'm to say I'm an orphan Lucien took in from one of their allies, Blood Creek pack. And all for the small price of swearing my loyalty to the Shadow Pack.
Taking the oath is scary, but I don't have a choice. At this point, even staying with the enemy seems better than going back home. I just hope Alpha Ferix will never find me here. It'll really be over for me if he knows I've been taken in by the enemy. My only solace is knowing I won't be missed by his pack and no one will come looking for me.
Lucien lets me settle in the room, not that I really have anything to move in. I look about the room in awe, picking up things and examining every part. I notice he's standing in the doorframe, watching me as I snoop.
"This is Daemon's old room," he says and I almost drop the broken alarm clock that I found. That can't be good.
"A-alpha Lucien, he's gonna be really mad if he finds out,"
The older man shrugs, not looking worried in the slightest. "He's the one who decided to move to the packhouse instead of staying here with his dear old dad."
"Oh," I say dumbly. Why Daemon would want to move out of here is beyond me.
Lucien chuckles. "I'll admit that's not the only reason he moved out. He's a part of the scouts so the council wants him down at the packhouse. The younger alphas tend to stay there,"
I nod, not really understanding because I've never been taught about pack dynamics before. Just the basics.
"Well, I'll leave you to it, bud," he says awkwardly, leaving me there reeling over all the events of today.
I still can't believe this is happening. How my life has so drastically changed. And the fact that Lucien gives a shit about me is so strange to me that I can't help but think this is all a setup. Like at any moment someone's gonna pop out and tell me it's all some cruel joke. I don't know. It's just been a really long time since someone's cared.
. . .
I woke up the next day better rested than I've been in years. When I look at the clock and see that it's nearly noon, a jolt of fear hits me. But then I remember that I'm not living with my step-father anymore and didn't have to wake up at the crack of dawn.
While the thought should ease my anxiety, instead I'm stricken with guilt at how safe and cozy I feel. I know I don't deserve this type of comfort. Alpha Ferix always told me that, that I shouldn't take up space or indulge. But here I am, indulging. On a nice fluffy bed covered in quilts and blankets.
The shame eventually forces me out of bed, no matter how much my taxed body protests it. I freshen up in the bathroom before I feel my stomach twinge in hunger. Maybe I've been saved a few scraps of Lucien's breakfast.
I go to the drawer, pulling out and dressing in an oversized shirt that looks like it has to do with sports. Not that I know anything about sports. I just know when clothes have giant numbers on them it might have something to do with it.
Lucien says I can wear whatever I find in the room until he's able to get me some new clothes. I then pad down the stairs, getting a little lost, but the sweet smell of syrup and frying meat guides me to the kitchen.
"Good morning," he greets Lucien, who's at the stove frying bacon and eggs in a pan.
It's peaceful as we exchange small talk and Lucien finishes making breakfast. The moment is so surreal that I feel like at any moment that something is going to ruin it. Which happens.
"Why's the omega wearing my shirt?" a deep, familiar voice comes from behind me, making me flinch in surprise.
I turn around to see Daemon standing in the doorway, arms crossed as we lock eyes. Oh god, this is his shirt! I realize this dumbly, though it's something I should've figured out earlier as the shirt is from Daemon's old room. As Daemon continues to stare at me in distaste I want to shrink into the ground out of embarrassment.
"Daemon! I didn't hear you come in," Lucien says as he places stuff on the table.
"Theo said you wanted to talk to me," Daemon replies nonchalantly.
"Ah, yes. Why don't you eat with us first, then," Lucien says, motioning to the table.
Daemon takes another look at me, frowning as his eyes trail down my body. I'm humiliated as he does so, wanting to hide my thin bony limbs from his view. Even though his shirt is like a dress on me, it's not enough to hide all the parts of me I hate. I know he sees it, how gaunt and frail I look. He must be disgusted. I bow my head in shame, not bearing to look at the expression on his face anymore.
"No, thanks," he says to Lucien. His answer relieves me, because the last thing I want to do right now is sit across from him over a meal.
"I'll be in your study," Daemon ignores me coldly as he walks past.
"That boy, can't even have breakfast with his dad anymore!" Lucien shakes his head as he sits at the table. Then he looks at me expectantly.
"What are you standing there for? Your plate's here," Lucien points to a lavish dish piled high with pancakes, toast, bacon, eggs, and a couple of fruits. My eyes widen at the copious amount of food.
"T-that's for me? That can't be right," I look at the plate in confusion as I go to sit down.
"Why not? I cooked it for you," Lucien smiles at me.
Alpha Ferix would kill me if I ever took that much food for myself. I pick up my fork and poke at the food, reluctant to eat it. It feels wrong and I almost feel panic as I look at the dish.
"Is it not to your liking?" Lucien asks, his smile suddenly dropping. "Are you allergic to pancakes?!"
"Oh no, the food is f-fine! I'm just not used to this," I admit, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.
I'm not used to any of this.