Page 33 of Trust No Alpha

He offered a smile. “I heard you in the shower. I started the eggs when I heard the water go off.”

I took the plate without a word and followed him to a dining table set up by a window that overlooked his front yard.

There sat napkins, silverware, two mugs of coffee, two glasses of orange juice, and a plate of toast and butter in the center of it all.

My stomach growled.

He sat and appeared indifferent to me, focused on his breakfast, as I sat across from him and picked up my fork.

The eggs were amazing, every bite a fluffy freshness melting in my mouth. He’d cooked the bacon perfectly, too, not under-cooked as some of our chefs at home tended to do when rushed to get us boys off to our tutors by nine every morning. It was crisp and salty. My mouth watered as I stuffed a whole piece into my mouth.

The only sounds that filled the room where the two of us chewing, and the clatter of forks on porcelain plates.

It was Thorne who broke that silence.

“I can drive you into town if that’s where you’re headed. You shouldn’t have to walk all that way. It’s fifteen miles in the cold.”

I kept myself outwardly calm, but inside my mind was chaos. What was I doing? I had no destination. No plan. But I had some cash. A lot by some standards. And jewelry I could pawn if need be. But where would I live? From motel to motel until my money ran out? If I tried to rent an apartment, my background would be checked. I’d be found out.

I could not stop thinking how stupid I was that I hadn’t planned better. But I hadn’t had time. How was I to know Father and Mathias would be threats me at home? Even I didn’t understand my own condition. Was I responsible for making them act crazy around me?

There was no way I could return home. Not now. Not ever. And there seemed to be nowhere to head to, either.

I glanced up at Thorne. He didn’t seem affected by me but he could be hiding it. When he’d first found me, he had commented on my scent. Thus, he was aware of it.

Thorne met my eyes. “Do you have a destination?” he asked.

“A motel, I guess.”

“All right. Any particular motel?”

I shook my head.

“So I’m assuming you won’t go home.”

“No.”

“Can I ask why your father attacked you?”

What could I say? That my Father kept me locked away because I was wrong inside? That he’d tried to rape me because of the Burn and because I wasn’t a real Alpha? That my brother had threatened to rape me as well?

It all sounded too crazy.

I put my fork down and stared at my food. “I’ve seen you,” I said, my words coming slow. “Walking.” I swallowed. “On the road some mornings.”

Thorne’s response surprised me. “You’re the boy in the window.”

“What?”

“That’s how I thought of you because I didn’t know your name.” He met my eyes again. “I saw you, too.”

“That’s my room. Beyond that window. Where I live. Or, rather, lived.”

Thorne nodded.

“I was accepted to a very prestigious school of design. Tursor. Have you heard of it?”

“I have.”