Page 113 of Alpha Mates

“The table?” I repeat with disbelief I can’t quite hide.

“Yes, Julian. The table,” she says mockingly, but with fondness rather than venom. “The one we used to eat?”

My lips part. I know my parents have their tricks, but this is certainly one I’ve never seen before. Affection.

It leaves me off-kilter, instincts blaring to leave, if only to escape this strange dimension where up is down and right is wrong, or at the very least, to call Aiden. More and more these days, there’s that insistent need to have my mate near when things are unpleasant. But I’d survived my life thus far without Aiden, and as much as I appreciated his support, I couldn’t lean on him for everything.

Besides, I still need to know exactly what my parents had done during their time away. It’d only been two days since they’d spawned on our sofa with Aiden’s parents in tow, but it’d been nine days since they’d left without my permission. For now, only Goddess knows who they spoke to about matters I hadn’t approved, but I needed into the fold. I couldn’t turn tail and run now. No pack could run with an alpha who didn’t know its affairs.

So I follow her into the house that smells sweet like vanilla. She leads me to the dining room, and my eyes grow wide. There are three places set and awaiting dishes almost overflowing with food. My father sits at the helm of it all, and when his amber eyes lift to mine, they’re terrifyingly warm.

“Julian,” he says, standing to offer a hand.

Lost, I take it, and almost find my arm outside of its socket with the force of his shake. I yank my hand free and eye the two creatures masquerading as my parents.

“What is this?” I ask, hating the unease in my voice. “What’s going on?”

“We wanted to have breakfast together,” my father answers with a slight frown. He stares at me as if I’m the one acting crazy here. “We need to talk, of course, but we thought doing it over a meal would be nice.”

“Ameal,” I deadpan, staring at the food as if it might reveal itself to be a prop. “You want us to share a meal?”

“You act as if we never have before,” my mother replies with a slight chuckle. “It’s only breakfast.”

“But we’ve never had breakfast together,” I snap, because I can’t play pretend as neatly as them. “You and I?” I gesture between her and me. “Yes. But the three of us?” I shake my head. “Never.”

My father’s features twist into a grimace as he nods stiffly. “Yes, as alpha, I was out before the both of you. I had patrols and meetings.”

I want to laugh, and Goddess knows I almost do at that weak excuse.

For my whole life, my father had been the alpha of our pack. Busy as he was, I did have memories of breakfast with him at the table, and others of him cooking with Mom, the two of them laughing and smiling. But after what happened to Oli, our home changed.

The little affections they let slip free vanished, and what was left of our family bond went cold. My father put his all into securing the pack’s trust, in showing himself to be a capable alpha, and my mother had been right there beside him to present a composed front. And I, the new alpha heir, played my part in catching up on years of training and teachings, to prove myself, to be an alpha worthy of them.

Day in and day out, we were being the family our pack needed, without pause, and it took its toll. By the time we made it back through our doors, there was no room or time forfamily. We were three beings in a disjointed home, but at least my parents had each other—they were mates. I’d had no one.

“I came for your report,” I say, willing my voice to remain impassive. Now was not the time to let old wounds flare. “I’d like to hear it.”

My parents share a look that only serves to put me more on edge.

“I want the report,” I press.

“At least sit down, Julian,” my mother says, her gaze imploring as she gestures to the seat set for me. “We will give you your report, but just sit with us. Please?”

A denial sits on my tongue, but what good would that do? The sooner I complied, the sooner this ended. Begrudgingly, I take my seat, and my parents fill the ones across from me. It feels like settling onto a bed of spikes.

“How have you been, son?” my father asks, and this time, I can’t help but laugh. “What?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.” No need to expose the annoyance flaring within me. “I’m fine. The pack is fine, and so is Aiden.”

“That’s good,” he says, and it almost sounds real. I hate that I’m still not sure.

“How wasyour trip?” I ask, eager to stop my part of this hellish play with them. “You were gone for an entire week. I hope you didn’t run into any trouble.”

“We didn’t,” my mother replies carefully, sounding uncharacteristically anxious. “The trip was fine.”

“Just fine?” My eyes narrow as I look between them. “You were out with no pack clearance for an entire week, and it wasfine?”

My father sighs. “We know you’re upset, Julian—”