Page 4 of Lycans & Lattes

I didn’t even attempt to hide the jealousy in my voice. Eloise had gotten to attend a paranormal university up north—an opportunity I hadn’t been afforded because of the lines of pack succession. I’d been forced to stay close to home while my little sister had run off to have her adventures.

“Still . . .” Mom trailed a finger across the chair beside her to inspect for dust. “It’s nice to see one of my children has friends, at least.”

Oh, Sandra Sullivan invented twisting the knife.

“I have friends,” I shot back.

“Wolf friends?”

I folded my arms, and my mother’s smile stretched in knowing. “What do you want, Mom?”

“What’s best for my children and the pack,” she instantly replied, and I scoffed. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Unlikely.”

“You know,” she hedged, wandering farther into the bakery and surveying a tray of cupcakes with disdain. “I had lunch with Aisling Farris and her mother yesterday.”

Well, we’re finally getting to the fucking point of this visit, at least.

“You don’t say,” I bit out.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how she is? You and Aisling used to be so close as pups.”

“We are still friendly.”

“Clearly not friendly enough,” Mom retorted before I could open my mouth. “She says you two haven’t talked in months.”

“Did she admit that under your intense grilling?”

“She was as poised as ever.” Mom shrugged. “Some might say regal, even.”

“Mom,” I snapped.

“Is it so wrong to think she’d make an excellent wolf queen, coming from a wolf queen herself?” She feigned innocence. “Maybe it’s time to stop going to that café, Wyatt.”

“You know what Willow is to me,” I countered.

“Yes.” Mom’s eyebrows lifted. “A celestial mistake. One that can be ignored. Just as your father did.” She placed her hand on her chest, prominently displaying the obsidian crescent moon in the center of a crown of diamonds on her ring finger. “I loved your father even though no magic preordained it. The best years of my life were spent with him. The moon may decide for us, but I chose this life. I ignored what my foolish teenage heart wanted and prioritized the pack and your father’s place over everything.”

The years rolled back, and for a brief moment, I glimpsed the young woman my mother had once been and all the choices similarly placed in front of her. As the daughter of one of the pack’s most prominent families, she had been betrothed to my father when they’d been pups. Their mating bond had eventually taken hold, but only after my father—and the pack elders—had forced another one away.

A ghost of the life that could have been flashed in her heavily kohl-lined eyes. “And it was the right choice. It gave me you, your sister, and so many happy years before your dad left us.”

There was the guilt, right on schedule. I had wondered when it would make its grand entrance.

“I know,” I added more mildly, thinking of a man I could only remember in foggy memories and clear photographs. At least I had that. Eloise had still been in Mom’s belly when Dad died. He’d just been about to take his role as pack alpha from his father when it happened. My grandfather had hung on to the position well past his prime to give me a chance to grow up, to not force me into that role when I was only a child. I had buried my head in the sand, hoping he’d never step down, never call upon me.

But I was well and truly grown now.

“Your grandfather bought Full Moon Bakery for Eloise because it was her dream to become a baker,” Mom muttered. “And he’s let it be your sandbox for far too long. But now your sister is home, Wyatt, the rightful owner of the bakery, and it’s time for you to take up your rightful role too.”

Instead of all my duties and responsibilities and loyalties—all of the things I should’ve been prioritizing—my thoughts converged on a single point. And when the wolf within me roiled beneath my skin, I knew that the beast and my own mind were aligned.

All either of us could think about was a blonde-haired café owner.

I let out a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of everything collapsing on top of me. “Soon.”

Mom walked over and placed a hand on my cheek. “Soon,” she echoed, giving me a look only a mother could—equally adoring and scolding and concerned—and then she turned and strode out the door, leaving me with my storming thoughts.