Page 7 of Alpha’s Twins (Alpha Kings Island #3)

I hear the front door slam shut and breathe a sigh of relief, the sound echoing through the walls like a long exhale.

I watch him from the window as he moves around to the back of the house, his frame disappearing behind the trees that surround the property.

The morning is still, and for a second, I can almost believe I belong here. Almost.

I wait, counting the seconds, and then slip out of the bedroom.

The kitchen is cool, the tiles chilling my feet, and the sunlight spills golden across the floor.

I pull open the fridge, searching for something quick, something I can take back to the room and pretend like I’m barely here.

There’s a carton of eggs, a loaf of bread, a block of—

“Serena?”

His voice is sudden and close, making me jump. I spin around, clutching the bread to my chest like it might protect me. Aiden stands in the doorway, keys in hand, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“I thought you’d left,” I say, the words tumbling out awkwardly, making it completely obvious I was deliberately avoiding him.

“Just getting something for the car.” He leans against the frame, casual and easy. Everything I’m not. “Hungry?”

I nod, my throat tight, wishing I could just shrink away.

“Stay,” he says, and I weigh up whether it’s a request or an order.

His expression is easygoing, but I can sense the alpha power brimming beneath his laid-back exterior.

I open my mouth to argue, but he’s already moving, taking the bread from my hands and setting it on the counter. “How do you like your eggs?”

“Uh, scrambled?” I say, like I’m not sure. Like I’ve never had eggs before.

“Scrambled it is.” He cracks the eggs with one hand, whisking them with a fluidity that makes me feel even more awkward, like my limbs are too heavy, too graceless. Like the rest of me. I hover by the fridge, unsure if I should sit or stand, if I should stay or make a run for it.

He glances over at me, eyes bright and curious. “You can sit, you know. I don’t bite.”

I laugh, a small, nervous sound. He gestures to the table, and I finally move, pulling out a chair. The wood is cool beneath my fingers, grounding me as I watch him.

“So,” he says, his back to me as he stirs the eggs. “How are you liking the town?”

“It’s nice,” I say, which sounds lame even to me. I clear my throat, trying to find words that don’t stick. “I mean, I haven’t really seen much of it, but it seems different. From what I’m used to.”

He nods, turning to face me. “You haven’t been out much yet?”

I shake my head, not wanting to admit I haven’t been anywhere since the ceremony. He sighs, “Sorry, that’s my fault. I should have taken you out, or you know, arranged something.”

I’m surprised; I hadn’t even considered that he might bother taking me out, anyway. I wave the thought away with my hand. “I don’t need you to do anything.”

He stops what he’s doing for a moment and looks up at me, the slight glow to his amber eyes unsettling me for a moment. “I don’t do anything I don’t want to, Serena,” he grins. “Besides, you’re the luna here now. You need to know the town and the people. I think they’re all quite keen to meet you.”

“Oh,” I reply simply. I hadn’t even considered anyone here would actually want to meet me.

He looks at me closely, like he’s trying to piece me together, and I feel the urge to hide, to curl inward. Instead, I force myself to sit up straighter, to meet his eyes. He slides a plate over to me and starts digging into his own breakfast as silence falls between us for a moment.

“What’s that thing you do with the plants?” he finally asks, his voice casual but his expression intent.

My heart skips a beat, wondering how he knows. “I just arrange flowers. Make them look pretty.”

He raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Pretty, huh?”

I nod and shrug, trying to make it seem like nothing. “It’s not a big deal.”

“I saw what you did with the bouquet during the ceremony,” he reminds me. “It was pretty and magical. Do you have other gifts?”

I can feel the blush creeping over my cheeks, and I shake my head, staring at my plate. “No, just pretty flowers. I have—had a store on the mainland, we supplied events.”

He looks genuinely surprised, and I wonder how much he actually knew about me before agreeing to this. “Supplied? Did you stop?”

I can’t help but scoff gently, “Well, I can’t run my store from here.”

He raises his brows again, and I see a flicker of understanding cross his features before he starts eating again. “You know,” he says in between bites, “being a shifter and having magic isn’t so unusual here. My family has magic, too.”

Now it’s my turn to raise my brows. I’d heard rumors that there was something strange about the alphas on the island, but I’m surprised to hear him so openly admit it.

Nolan’s pack works with witches but still views all magic with a certain level of suspicion.

He leans back in his chair, appraising me in a way that makes me want to squirm.

“You should talk to Emily, Tristen’s mate.

She’s a witch. Might be interesting to talk to you about the type of magic you have. ”

My fingers fidget with the edge of my plate, and I try to keep my voice steady, carefully dismissive. “It’s just flowers.”

He shrugs, a slow smile spreading across his face. I wonder if he knows how good-looking he is. Does he make all women feel like this? “I think it’s more than that,” he finally says.

I don’t know how to respond, so I focus on eating, the eggs warm and soft, the silence stretching between us. Finally, he breaks it again.

“My brothers and I have gifts too,” he says, casually, like he’s telling me the weather forecast. “As well as being shifters.”

I meet his eyes, a flicker of curiosity getting the better of me. “Gifts?”

He nods, and there’s a spark in his eyes that’s more than just reflection. “Fire’s kind of my thing. My brothers have lightning and the wind; my niece appears to be a bit of a mixture.”

“Fire?” I echo, disbelief and intrigue mingling in my voice.

“Yeah,” he says, a playful glint in his gaze. “I can show you sometime. Maybe if we take our wolves for a run sometime?”

And there it is—he doesn’t know I can’t shift. I push my chair back and busy myself clearing the plates. The shift in energy between us is awkward and palpable. He must feel it, too, because he stands and carries his plate to the sink, where I take it. “I’ll sort these,” I tell him quietly.

“You sure?” he replies, trying to catch my eye, but I swiftly brush him off.

“Of course, you cooked, and besides, you must be very busy.”

I breathe a sigh of relief when he takes the hint and makes his excuses to leave.

He pauses at the door, but I deliberately keep my back to him and focus on washing the plates, only relaxing when I hear the front door click.

How could Nolan not even tell him I can’t shift?

I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, who would volunteer for a defective mate?

I feel the familiar weight of inadequacy settle over me, and I grip the edge of the sink, the cool metal pressing into my palms. The garden calls to me with its quiet promise of solitude.

The air is so crisp, the ground damp beneath my shoes, and I head over to the flower arch I helped create last night.

I can lose myself here, in the tangle of stems and leaves, in the illusion that I am something more than an obligation.

I kneel in the dirt, sinking my hands into the earth, and try to focus on the small, green lives in front of me.

I am so absorbed in teasing the tender new shoots appearing that I don’t hear them approach.

“Serena?”

I nearly jump out of my skin, my heart racing as I turn to see three women standing at the garden gate. The tallest, a redhead with an easy smile, waves. “We didn’t mean to scare you,” she winces.

I scramble to my feet, brushing dirt from my knees. “It’s fine,” I say, but my voice is shaky. “I just wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“We thought we’d come say hi, welcome you to the pack,” says the woman with dark curls, her voice warm and genuine.

The third woman, petite and freckled, holds up a basket. “We brought cookies. Sarah here baked them.”

“Oh,” I say, stupidly, “that’s really nice.”

I can’t hide my surprise, and they seem to notice. They exchange glances, and I brace myself for the ridicule that used to follow when I was in the mainland pack.

Instead, the redhead, Sarah, says, “We can go if you’re busy, but we’d love to chat if you have the time.” She sounds like she means it.

I shake my head quickly, feeling flustered. “No, stay. Please. I was just…tidying up.”

The women all smile and walk through the garden, setting the basket of treats on the small table.

I wring my hands, hoping they won’t notice how nervous I am.

I try to calm my nerves by focusing on maintaining a friendly and neutral expression.

I’m so used to expecting the worst from others in my pack that I’m ready for whatever they say or do.

“So, Serena,” Sarah says, getting out the treats and taking a seat, “how are you settling in?”

I hesitate before sitting, unsure what to do with myself. “It’s…different,” I say, immediately regretting it. It sounds negative, ungrateful. “I mean, it’s nice. Everyone seems welcoming.”

The women share a look, and I brace for what comes next.

“We’re so glad to have you here,” the one with beautiful freckles says. Her voice is light and sincere. “I’m Cate, by the way.”

“Yeah, it’s been pretty hard around here with everything that went on…” the curly-haired one adds before trailing off. “We were so excited when Aiden told us you were joining the pack.”

I blink, trying to process her words. Excited? About me? I reach for a cookie to busy my hands, and the sweet smell feels intoxicating. “Thank you,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.

Emily leans forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Aiden said you’re a florist?”