My stomach is gnawing itself to death.
I press a hand against it, willing it to calm down as I resume pacing the perimeter of my room. Seven steps along the wall. Turn. Five steps across. Turn. Seven steps back. Turn. Five steps to the door.
I crack it open for the fifth time in twenty minutes.
The Blue Mountain shifter stands at attention, back rigid as a plank. He doesn't even twitch as I peer around the edge of the door. His eyes remain fixed forward, as if I'm nothing but a breeze passing through the hallway.
I close the door with a sigh and press my forehead against the cool wood. My stomach clenches painfully. The mountain of breakfast from earlier features in my regrets; I should have stuffed my face while I had the chance. Or at least taken some with me.
Another cramp twists my insides. Decision made.
I yank open the door, determination straightening my spine.
My words die as I nearly collide with a broad chest. Not the Blue Mountain guard. The Lycan King himself stands before me, his hand raised mid-knock, a tray balanced perfectly in his other palm. The scent of lasagna and garlic bread makes my mouth water in the most unbecoming way.
His eyebrow arches, storm-gray eyes assessing as they rove over me. I take an instinctive step back, which is apparently Lycan for come on in because that's precisely what he does.
Then again, he made it oh-so-clear I'm his prisoner, so can I really complain?
He kicks the door closed with his heel without looking, his gaze never leaving my face. "Are you comfortable?" he asks, setting the tray on my bed.
I eye him suspiciously. Personally delivering food and asking about my comfort? His behavior is on a rollercoaster again.
"I'm fantastic, thank you."
His jaw tightens. "You're not."
"I just said I am, though?"
He grunts. "Your boyfriend will be instated as Alpha tonight."
I already know that, thanks to Evan. "I'm sure he's happy about it."
Another grunt, and he hasn't moved from the side of my bed, effectively cutting me off from the food.
My stomach begs me to dive for it, but I wring my hands together, digging my nails into my skin to keep my composure. "Did you need something else?"
His eyes land on my linked hands. "How is your wrist?"
"It's fine." It's not, but as long as I'm not using it much, the pain is bearable. It's the hunger killing me now, but it's being gatekept by a Lycan with a questionable grasp on sanity.
His hand reaches out so quickly I don't have time to flinch. My breath catches as his fingers capture a strand of my hair, letting it slide through them with unsettling fascination.
There are no nerve endings in my hair, but the action sends shivers down my spine regardless.
The lasagna's rich aroma taunts me while my captor plays with my hair, and I'm struck again by the strangeness of this situation. Thankfully, Evan's coming tonight. Just a little longer and I'll be free. For real this time.
"When were you first brought to the Blue Mountain Pack?"
I barely suppress a groan. He brings me food—which I'm dying to devour—but of course it comes with a cost. I guess I won't be allowed to eat if I don't answer.
He probably doesn't remember any of what I said before, but it's still annoying to repeat it.
"Six years ago," I answer crisply, fighting the urge to step away. Any sudden movement might upset him, and I'm not risking him taking away my food or something in retaliation.
His fingers continue their exploration, twining around the strand. "Six," he repeats, as if testing the word. "And your parents?"
"Dead," I snap. He might not remember the details of what I told him, but he should at least remember I'm an orphan, damn it.
"And he claimed you as his daughter?"
"Yes." My hands clench at my sides. "Until he didn't, the night of the Mate Hunt."
Asher's eyes narrow, his fingers still absently toying with my hair. "Yes, explain that again."
My patience fractures. The lasagna is right there, its cheese congealing while he plays twenty questions. "Could I maybe eat while you interrogate me? Since you brought dinner?"
His eyebrows rise, but he releases my hair and steps aside with a gesture toward the bed. "By all means."
I move cautiously, as if approaching a sleeping predator, and perch on the edge of the mattress. The first bite of lasagna hits my tongue, and I have to stifle a moan. It's perfect—rich tomato sauce, seasoned beef, and cheese that stretches in satisfying strings. Heaven wrapped in pasta layers.
The Blue Mountain Pack is no longer home, but the chef is great.
Asher stands uncomfortably close, looming over me as his eyes follow my fork. "Continue."
I swallow, forcing myself to eat slowly despite my hunger. "Not much to tell. I must have been drugged, because I woke up practically naked in the forest during the Mate Hunt. I guess he was trying to force me to shift. He thought I was his biological daughter and found out I wasn't." I shrug. "Then he tossed me to the omegas."
"And how did he 'find out'?" His voice carries an edge that makes me pause mid-bite.
My brows draw together. "I told you, after the Mate Hunt. When I didn't shift."
He circles to face me, blocking the light from the window. "Did he ever bring up shifting before?"
"Not even at sixteen?"
"No—oh." Staring blankly at the lasagna, I recall, "He did throw me a pretty big sweet sixteen. He would always get me a cake for my birthday, but it wasn't usually a big party like that."
Asher frowns. "I see. How was his mood?"
The memory is clear, because the day was so special to me. "He had to leave halfway through because something came up. I didn't think much of it because Xander was with me." Poking my lower lip with my fork, I squint in the air, as if it'll help me see my memory with more clarity. "He was happy when I first saw him that morning, but he was pretty subdued by evening. I thought he was just busy."
A low growl rumbles through the room and Asher spins away from me, pacing the floor. Five steps. Turn. Five steps. Turn.
I set my fork down, appetite vanishing under the weight of his agitation. He's ruining all my meals.
"Did Brax intend to mate you with Xander?"
The non sequitur throws me for a loop, and I blink. "No, Alpha had nothing to do with our relationship."
"Stop calling him Alpha." Asher whirls toward me, his voice sharp as a blade. "He's not your alpha anymore."
I flinch, my shoulders hunching. "Alpha Keller," I correct myself, my voice smaller than before, "had nothing to do with our relationship."
His scowl deepens, storm clouds gathering in his eyes. "How long were you in a relationship with the pup?"
The way he spits the word 'relationship' makes my skin crawl. It's so venomous. "You mean Xander?"
A sharp nod answers me, his jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping beneath his skin.
"I don't know. We were friends from day one, and it just grew to more one day." Rubbing at my arms to soothe my crawling skin, I add, "Alpha Keller wasn't against the relationship. He was fine with it until the Mate Hunt."
"Of course he was," he mutters, resuming his pacing. "Your mother. She was his mate?"
"That's what Alpha Keller told me." My fingers twist in my lap. "But I don't know anything about her. His mate, I mean. The pack never said a word about her."
Xander probably knows… and kept it from me. It's a depressing thought.
"There's probably a rule against it." Asher's pacing slows, his broad shoulders tight with tension. "Because of his pride."
He knows. My heart pounds against my ribs. He knows something. "Do you..." The question sticks in my throat. I swallow hard and force the words past the knot. "Do you know about her? My mother?"
His jaw works, muscles jumping beneath his skin. "It's old history. Most in the region would know."
He's too busy pacing to look at me, so he probably doesn't see my face as my heart splinters into jagged pieces. I just want to know more about Mom, to piece this mystery together. Is it so hard to share a few words?
But he's the Lycan King, interrogating a prisoner. There's no reason for him to soothe my injured heart.
Lowering my head, I stab out another bite of lasagna. "I see."
Evan might know something. Maybe during the drive to Sterling City, I can get him talking. It'll give us something to talk about, anyway. I was already dreading his presence for the ride.
The pacing stops. A shadow falls over my plate as Asher hovers by my side, towering over me.
I peek up through my lashes. His brows draw together, creating harsh lines across his forehead as he scowls down at me. "Eat more."
My fork hovers over the lasagna. "It's a little hard when you're standing there watching my every move."
His frown deepens. The muscle in his jaw ticks once, twice. Finally, a hissing sound escapes through his teeth—not quite a sigh, and more like steam escaping a pressure valve. "I'll leave you in peace, then."
A second later, the door slams shut.