Getting away with the Alpha's Pup

Chapter 1 Cherry I let myself in, noticing Dylan's keys in the bowl on the table. My heart punched my chest like a jackhammer, overreacting to the fact that he was home. I dropped my own keys in the bowl with a clatter. A moment later, Dylan's study door opened. Dylan filled the doorway. His shoulders were so broad they almost touched both sides of the frame, and he seemed to loom over me, even with the long hallway between us. I always felt overwhelmed by his presence. His dark eyes found me in the low light, and I fought to conceal how much his stare affected me. His strong features were so handsome, filled with all the rugged beauty of the Moon God that only our pack's most talented artists could hope to imbue their sculptures with. I felt Dylan's pull on me like I did the full moon. I wanted to go to him. My lips prickled as if telling me to use them as I wanted to. "Kiss him," they seemed to whisper. If only... Instead, I stated the obvious, "You're home." He frowned. "Thought you were Bert." At the confusion on my face, he added, "He borrowed the truck. He's posting the keys through." I nodded, trying to keep the disappointment out of my expression. Of course, Dylan hadn't voluntarily left his study to say hello to me. I tried not to feel too jealous that he had more time for Bert, his Beta, and his friend than he did for me. I kept my tone casual as I suggested, "I'm gonna open a bottle. Want a drink?" His dark eyebrows dragged together, "No thanks, I've got a fair bit to do before I finish up tonight." Withdrawing, his study door clicked shut behind him. And just like that, the space that had seemed so full of his presence was empty. Disappointment fluttered in my chest. But, with a deep breath, I reminded myself that he had to work hard. After all, he was the Alpha-in-training of our pack, Starsmoon, and an Alpha's job was never done. Wandering into my bedroom, I was amazed by how time flew. It had been a year and a half since I came here. To live with my... mate. Surprised, huh? We were fated mates. A pang of frustration swooped through me—fated mates who barely spoke to each other. We didn't even share a bedroom. I looked around my room, at the double bed, wardrobe, and vanity table, filled with only my things. His mom and dad had wanted us to live together to get to know each other properly before we were officially joined together during our Moon Ceremony. When I'd first moved in, Dylan had been the one to suggest we have separate rooms. At the time, I'd thought he was being a real gentleman. But almost a year on, our Moon Ceremony was likely not far off, and our separate rooms hadn't changed. I couldn't help wondering if I was not attractive at all. After all the efforts I made, he still didn't show any interest in me. Never. Just then, the alarm got me snapped back to reality. It was time to prep for dinner. Kinda my duty as Dylan's wife, and a part of my trick to win his heart. Frustrated, I stepped out of my room and into the kitchen, turning on the light. The days were only just beginning to lengthen as spring sprung. But soon, the days would be longer, and there'd be more time in the evenings for Dylan and me to spend quality time together. The thought renewed the bounce in my step. I got out the Instant Pot and decided to make Dylan's favorite. After searing the meat, I popped it into the cooker. As I went about seasoning the meat and the rich smell filled the kitchen, fondness pulsed through me. I had gotten to know Dylan more over the last year. I knew his favorite dinner, movie, and sports but was that enough? Shame twisted through me. Quashing my worries down, I busied myself with prepping the rest of dinner, peeling spuds and carrots, putting them on the boil, then making a rich stock for the lamb to stew in. I made sure I'd cooked enough for three. If Bert, Dylan's Beta, was dropping off keys, there was a high likelihood he'd be staying for dinner. I smiled, thinking of the easy-going shifter, who had a habit of visiting around meal times. He was only a couple of years older than me, so we'd been friends as pups. As young kids, we'd had the same lessons together in the pack, then been at high school to sit our exams. Bert was how I'd first gotten to know Dylan; the friend we'd had in common. The best times for Dylan and I still seemed to be when Bert was over, having dinner with us, or watching a movie. Occasionally, when our friend was around, Dylan seemed to forget his coldness that he seemed hell-bent on giving me and would be kinder and perhaps even c***k a smile. But it never lasted. As I finished cooking, I glanced at the clock—6:30 pm. I didn't want to disturb Dylan's workflow. But somehow, as if conjured by my thoughts, the sound of footsteps in the hall announced him. My heart quickened. I took another sip of wine, my throat suddenly dry. "Great timing, dinner's ready," I said as Dylan joined me. His dark eyebrows dragged together, "Oh... I'm not very hungry. I had a big lunch." As if he could see my disappointment, he threw out another excuse, "Besides, I'm kinda snowed under with pack stuff." He disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of water. He mumbled, "Better get back to it." His footfalls disappeared, and the emptiness he left behind seemed to ring through me. My appetite vanished too, but not wanting to waste food, I forced myself to fill a plate. But with only the sound of my scraping cutlery to keep me company, loneliness settled on me, feeling as thick and inevitable as the night.