Pecan's pov
I groaned, pulling the pillow over my head in a feeble attempt to block out the sound of my mother's voice. Mornings were already bad enough without her standing in the doorway, delivering a monologue about something I couldn't care less about.
"Pecan," she called, her tone sharp and insistent. "Are you even listening to me?"
"No," I muttered into the pillow, my voice muffled but loud enough for her to hear.
"Well, you'd better start." Her heels clicked against the wooden floor as she approached. "We've got termites."
I rolled onto my back, peeking up at her through half-closed eyes. "Termites? Seriously?"
"Yes, it's the season for them, and they've decided to make a banquet out of our home." She folded her arms, glaring at me as if the termites were somehow my fault. "I already called the fumigation workers, but they're backed up. We're not getting help anytime soon."
I sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "So, what's the plan? We just coexist with them?"
Her lips pressed into a thin line, the kind of expression that told me I wasn't going to like what came next. "The Alpha and Luna have graciously opened the pack house to us. We'll move there until the fumigation is complete."
I blinked at her, my grogginess evaporating in an instant. "Move into the pack house?" I repeated, my voice rising with disbelief.
"Yes," she said, as though it was the most reasonable thing in the world. "It's a temporary solution, Pecan. Don't make this harder than it has to be."
I scoffed, throwing off the covers. "I'm not moving in with the Alpha and Luna. No way."
"And why not?" she challenged, her hands now planted firmly on her hips.
"Because I don't want to," I said simply, brushing past her to head toward the bathroom.
"That's not a reason," she called after me.
I paused at the doorway, gripping the frame. "It's my reason, and that's all you're getting."
Despite my protests, the termites had other plans. By midday, the situation had gone from bad to catastrophic. The tiny invaders had claimed the kitchen, and the smell of sawdust hung heavy in the air. Every attempt to salvage anything felt futile.
"You're being ridiculous," my mom snapped as I stood defiantly in the living room, arms crossed.
"Ridiculous? I'm not the one running to the pack house like some helpless damsel," I shot back.
Her eyes narrowed. "This isn't about pride, Pecan. It's about practicality. We can't live here like this!"
I hesitated, glancing around at the chaos. She wasn't wrong. The house was practically falling apart before our eyes. Still, the thought of moving into the pack house made my stomach churn.
"Why are you so against this?" she demanded, her tone softening. "It's not like they're strangers. The Alpha and Luna are kind people."
"That's not the point," I muttered, avoiding her gaze.
"Then what is the point?" she pressed.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "It's... complicated."
She gave me a long, searching look before shaking her head. "You're stubborn, Pecan. Just like your father."
The mention of my dad stung, but I kept my expression neutral. "I'm not moving."
"Yes, you are."
The finality in her voice left no room for argument.
By evening, we were packed and heading to the pack house. I sat in the passenger seat, arms folded tightly across my chest as the car bumped along the dirt road.
"You're sulking," my mom said, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye.
"I'm not sulking," I shot back, though the tone of my voice said otherwise.
She sighed. "This isn't a punishment, you know. The pack house is beautiful, and you'll have your own space. Maybe it'll even be a nice change of pace."
I stared out the window, watching the forest blur past. "I liked my own pace just fine."
Her lips twitched, but she didn't respond.
When we arrived at the pack house, the sight of the sprawling estate did little to ease my irritation. The place was massive, its stone walls and towering arches exuding authority and wealth. It wasn't that I had anything against the Alpha and Luna personally; I just didn't like the idea of being under their roof, of being watched.
A young pack member greeted us at the door, all smiles and warm welcomes. My mother, of course, charmed them instantly with her graciousness. I, on the other hand, lingered awkwardly in the background, feeling more like an intruder than a guest.
"This way," the young woman said, leading us through the grand halls.
My mom followed eagerly, but I trailed behind, taking in the polished floors and elegant decor. It was all too perfect, too pristine.
"You'll be staying in the east wing," the woman said, stopping at a pair of double doors. "with the Alpha and Luna hope you'll be comfortable here."
"Thank you," my mom said, her voice brimming with gratitude.
The woman nodded before disappearing down the hall, leaving us to settle in.
"Well," my mom said, clapping her hands together. "This isn't so bad, is it?"
I didn't answer, dropping my bag onto the bed and flopping down beside it.
"I know you're not happy," she continued, sitting down beside me. "But try to make the best of it. For me?"
Her voice was gentle, and for a moment, I felt a pang of guilt. She didn't ask for much, and she was only trying to do what was best for us.
"Fine," I muttered. "But don't expect me to start liking it here."
She smiled, patting my hand. "That's my girl."
As she left the room, I stared up at the ceiling, wondering how long this "temporary" arrangement was going to last.
And why, no matter how much I tried to deny it, the idea of being so close to the Alpha sent an unwelcome thrill down my spine.