Word Count: 1725

~Meara

Sire has been carefully schooled in preparation for this evening.

He isn't a centuries old Alpha having emerged from a watery grave, and I definitely had nothing to do with it.

We are just a normal couple who accidently stumbled into the knowledge that they are mates.

I knock firmly on the cottage door, giving Sire a wary glance.

He isn't concerned about what my parents think of him at all. I'm not either, necessarily, but I am worried that they will uncover an aspect of Sire's past that I would like to keep hidden.

The door opens, revealing the flushed face of my grinning mother.

"Meara!"

She sweeps me into a hug so tight it's suffocating. I melt into it, letting myself remember how much I missed her. She smells so familiar, like cherries and vanilla.

"It's good to see you," I breathe, pulling back to look in the light brown eyes we both share. "Has it always been so cold here?"

The ground is crusted with frost and the air is frigid. I'm starting to remember why our Pack didn't expand its reaches out here.

"Come quick," she ushers us in, getting a good look at my mate, who she thinks is my boyfriend, as he ducks his head beneath the doorway.

Unsurprisingly, the ceiling is too low for Sire. He's forced to tilt his head slightly, wincing a little.

"You must be Sire."

He takes her hand in his, shaking it gently. "It's lovely to meet you..."

Her cheeks tint pink as he focuses on her. I don't blame her, his stormy blue eyes are captivating, and his smile is awfully charming.

"I'm Elizabeth. Meara's father, Edgar, is just getting some firewood. We will be in soon," she tells him, hustling over to the kitchen.

"Please don't be weird mother," I mumble, rubbing my arms.

As a child I hated that everything is mostly in the same room, aside from the two bedrooms and the one bathroom. Now, I think the small space suits my parents.

"Look, I made your favourite stew for dinner." She motions into the large steel pot on the stove. "Sire, I hope you eat stew."

He smiles. "I eat whatever you'll feed me."

My mother is an excellent cook. The smell of slow cooked beef, vegetables and various seasonings linger in the air, my stomach growling in response.

"Good man," she praises, pulling some bowls out. "I apologise, I didn't realise our ceilings would be so low."

"Sire is just tall mother, it's fine." I motion to the dining table. "Sit down."

How we are going to eat on this table is beyond me. It's got a pile of father's old books on it, a basket of fruit and a variety of tupperware.

"I would like to be standing upon meeting your father," Sire muses, eyes flaring as if to say, don't ruin this for me.

Mother chuckles, stirring the stew with a massive wooden spoon. "Aren't you old fashioned."

With her back turned, I give him a long, hard look, warning him not to slip up and say anything incriminating. My parents would be accepting, I'm sure, but they would be wary of him.

And the last thing we need is other people finding out...

"Sometimes I feel like I come from another time," he responds easily.

The side door suddenly opens, my father backing through it with an armful of firewood. He grins at the sight of us, dumping the wood into the basket near the fire.

"Meara baby, you're home."

I manoeuvre around the clutter to give him a hug. "Hey Dad."

He shifts his attention to my mate, a moment of disbelief flaring in his eyes as he holds his hand out. "Sire, very nice to meet you, son."

"Nice to meet you too, Edgar."

"Sit, sit before you smack your head," he says, laughing a little at Sire's bowed head. "I'll get busy lighting the fire."

"Allow me."

Sire brushes my father away, kneeling in front of the fire. I watch him with wide eyes. Has Sire ever lit a fire in his life?

He leans down and settles a few pieces of wood in position before he waves his hand and the wood erupts into flames.

Magic. Cheater.

"Well aren't you a good man," father exclaims, oblivious to Sire's tricks. "Meara, you choose well."

I swallow thickly. Well, here goes...

"I didn't choose Sire. He's my mate," I breathe.

Both parents pause, my mothers ladle clattering against the edge of the pot as she drops it into the stew.

"Mate?"

"Mate!"

"Don't freak out, I swear to-"

"Oh my goodness, how wonderful. Sire, come here and give me a hug," mother gushes. She grabs at his shoulders, forcing her arms around him. Being the gracious man he is he hugs her back, laughing a little.

"I've never heard such good news. Meara, I was wondering what happened to that stupid boy Case," father says. I don't think I've ever seen a smile so wide.

I rub the back of my neck as mother finally let's Sire go.

"Him and I are done," I assure them. "I'm with Sire now."

"I'm so pleased for you both." Mother returns to her pot, ladling the stew into the bowls. "Now, I must know everything."

"You're smothering us, mother," I grumble, sitting down at the table. Sire sits next to me, giving me a warm smile.

"How did you find out?" Father asks from across the table.

"I'm new to this Pack. I came from far away, and I came into Meara's café looking for a drink. Our hands brushed when she was handing me one," Sire explains.

We curated this story earlier. It needed to be simple, plausible. Something neither of my parents would ever question.

"How romantic," father says.

Mother sets the bowls in front of us before sitting down herself. "You're a handsome man, Sire. Meara is so lucky."

"I'm lucky. Your daughter is wonderful." Sire smooths his hand down my thigh under the table. My breath hitches, but only for a moment.

"How sweet."

"These tattoos are interesting. What do they mean?" Father asks, motioning to Sire's collar, which reveals the bare skin at the top of his chest.

He smooths his sleeves back, showing where they extend down his arms to his hands. "They are actually markings. I was born with them."

My eyes widen. I didn't know that...

Father's eyes widen. "I thought there was only one bloodline had markings like these. They were once Alpha's, if I'm correct."

Oh fuck.

"That blood line moved far away," Sire explains.

Mother waves her hands around, nearly knocking the stew over the red and white tablecloth. "So you have Alpha blood. You're meant to be an Alpha!"

"He doesn't want to, mother," I grumble.

"Carran rules here." Sire looks at me. "For now."

"How fascinating. What do you do for work?" father asks.

I stare down at my stew. We didn't get that far in making the perfect story as Sire insisted that blatantly lying to my parents is cruel, and that should only be done if it means protecting them.

That I can agree with.

"Right now I'm settling in." Sire picks his words carefully. "I'm good in leadership positions, so we'll see where that gets me."

Mother smiles. "Excellent. Meara has never had such an incredible man."

"You're just saying that because he's attractive," I grumble.

Sire shifts uncomfortably. "This stew is great."

"You are a beautiful girl, Meara. Why settle for boys like Case?" Mother pushes, shaking her head.

I brought Case here once and my parents weren't nearly as doting. In fact, mother whispered to me on the way out that she thought I could do much better.

"Well, you can be happy now because I'm stuck with...I'm with Sire now," I mutter.

"I am happy."

"Would you like a drink, Sire. Perhaps a night cap?" Father offers, sensing the tension.

Sire shakes his head, figuring that being sober around my parents is the safest option. "No thank you."

"I'll have a drink," I volunteer.

For most of the evening we lounge on the couch. Polite conversation passes between us, but thankfully neither of my parents attempt to delve any deeper into Sire's past, despite asking about his parents.

He quietly told them they both had passed and that was that.

"Bedtime, isn't it?"

I jolt up, rubbing my eyes. I must have dozed off, my head on Sire's lap, curled up beneath mother's favourite crocheted blanket. The fireplace has filled the room with so much heat it has exhausted me.

"Oh. Right," I mumble, wiping the drool from the side of my mouth.

"I hope you don't mind sharing the room we have always set aside for Meara. It's small, but we don't have much space here, as you can see," mother exclaims, motioning to the door closest to us.

"It's fine, mother," I assure her.

Giving both my parents a kiss on the cheek, I guide Sire into the room, pressing it closed behind me.

I love this room. I love it's intimacy.

The duvet is pale pink with a pastel blue blanket mother made draped at the foot of the bed. Father's paintings line the wall. My favourite are the ones of the garden they both so lovingly attend to, or the animals in the barn.

I want this life for myself and my mate, I realise.

Yawning, I sit on the bed, pulling my shoes off. I can feel the heat of Sire's gaze on my back.

"Don't say anything," I warn.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see him holding his hands up in defence. "I'm not."

"You better keep your hands to yourself or it's on the floor for you," I tell him, tugging the covers back.

"Yes. Ma'am," he murmurs, pulling his shirt off.

I sigh. This is going to be a long night.

❤️••❤️

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"...I've never had an orgasm before!" I blurt out, backing away a few steps.

He sits up, dark hair ruffled and messy from the fingers I ran through it. His eyes, once wide, slowly darken.

"You what?" He breathes.

~Midika 💜🐼