Hot Waters

I'm at the vanity next morning, working a brush through my long golden hair, watching myself in the mirror and hoping I don’t f—

"I heard you gave Beta Rowan a hard time yesterday," Kael's voice comes from across the room, interrupting my thoughts. I find him in the mirror as he walks out of our closet room dressed already, jacket on, the composed and armored version of himself fully assembled.

He's looking at me, but not the way he was looking at me last night. This is the daytime look. Detached.

I set the brush down on the vanity.

"Really? You have time for his complaints?”

"No, I actually don’t," something in his voice cools by exactly one degree, "I've been very busy lately. I don't have time to manage this. You are my Luna, you need to stop acting so childish. Grow up."

Childish.

"I simply wanted to read a contract before I signed it," I say, my voice even, "That's what's been reported back to you as making things difficult."

"You didn't even finish college," Kael says, and his tone has shifted into an impatient tone. Like he can’t believe he has to explain something this obvious, "Why would you need to read a contract yourself? I had everything prepared for you. All you had to do was sign your name. If something comes from me, you need to trust it. Blindly.”

Five years ago, I was in my third year of university. I had a plan, built out of my own choices, moving toward something I had decided I wanted. Then everything shifted overnight, faster than I could track.

Kael found me. I became his Luna. I signed a contract I trusted blindly because it came from my fated mate... and the woman I'd been building simply stopped being relevant—her degree, her plans, the dreams of an independent life, all of it was folded away because there was no room for it in the life I'd stepped into.

"Why is that so difficult?” Kael continues, “Why can't you simply appreciate—"

The door opens out of nowhere.

Seraphine walks in like she's done it a hundred times—and perhaps she has, during hours I've been elsewhere.

She stops when she sees me at the vanity, and something flickers across her face. Not guilt, more like inconvenience.

"Alpha, I thought about something else to add into the speech for today," She starts, then glances between us, "Oh. Should I wait for her to leave, or...?"

"Nah," Kael easily says, "Say what's on your mind."

Of course.

I watch it in the mirror, the ease with which he turns toward her. The patience that materializes from nowhere, fully formed, that he could not locate thirty seconds ago when he was talking to me.

Seraphine says something about his speech to the Council in today’s meeting and Kael listens with all the attentiveness in the world, because he values what she has to say.

I tune out the conversation, pick up my brush and resume the long, even strokes through my hair. I watch myself do it. I keep my face neutral.

When they finish and Seraphine leaves, I meet my husband’s eyes in the mirror.

"Why is she allowed to come and go freely through our bedroom?" I ask, and my voice comes out light. Almost conversational. Like I don’t care about my husband's entire demeanor transforming the moment another woman entered the room, “Does she do it a lot?”

Something uncomfortable moves through Kael's expression before it levels out.

"Of course not… not a lot,” he responds, but it sounds like a lie, “She's the person I trust the most. She knew I was still here and needed to pass on something important, so—"

"It's fine," I look back at my own reflection, "I was just asking… and to go back to our previous conversation, I think you’d like to know I already finished reading it and I signed it. I left it on the dining table last night. I can start filming whenever you need."

I see him recalibrate in the mirror, the irritation retreating, the wheels already turning.

"Ah. Good,” he nods, then I can see his shoulders drop as he tells himself this is another of those moments where he has to manipulate me into being happy with him, like we’re actually a couple, "And look, after the show wraps and I mark you—If that’s what you choose, I can arrange for us to visit some of the other packs. You mentioned once that you wanted to travel, right? I will have more time then. Beta Rowan will take more responsibility here and I can meet with the Council in any of their packs, so we can just… have fun.”

Once.

I mentioned I’d like to travel once, in passing, years ago, and he filed it away somewhere and retrieved it just now like a bargaining chip.

He thinks he's being a good husband.

And he thinks I’m still going to ask him to mark me? When I have the other choice? He must really think I’m stupid.

"We can talk about that later," I say, and draw the brush through my hair one final time, "I'm a little tired this morning.”

The silence that follows is different from the ones I'm used to. I feel him looking at me. Assessing me.

I don't turn around.

I think: I can do this.

All I need is to go to that show, be his perfect mate and then fucking leave him.