Ruthless Alpha, and his Curvy Saint-Chapter 70

Head Chef’s POV

The kitchen was loud and warm and smelled of toasted bread and sautéed mushrooms, the way it always did at half past seven in the morning.

I wiped my hands on my apron and watched critically as everything was being prepared, making sure everything was where it was supposed to be.

The porridge was ready. The eggs were done. The fruit had been sliced exactly the way I’d demanded and arranged on the silver tray in the particular pattern I’d designed specifically for the Luna’s meals - because even if the Alpha hadn’t said a single word about how the girl was to be treated, I had eyes. And I’d seen the way he’d looked at her right before she was escorted through the back door.

"Delia!" I called, not looking up from the sauce I was adjusting.

Silence.

I looked up.

"Where is Delia?"

The kitchen girls exchanged glances - the kind of glance that meant someone knows something and no one wants to say it.

I set down my spoon with impatience.

"I will ask one more time."

One of the younger girls - barely sixteen, still had flour on her nose - cleared her throat. "She hasn’t come in this morning, Chef. Her bed was empty at roll call."

"Empty."

"Yes, Chef."

I said nothing for three full seconds. In my kitchen, that was the equivalent of a scream.

"Fine." I picked up the tray myself, then thought better of it. I had a whole castle’s breakfast to oversee. I couldn’t go running up to the east wing every time someone decided to be absent without explanation.

I turned to the girl with the flour on her nose. "You. What’s your name?"

"Petra, Chef."

"Petra. You will take this tray to the Luna’s chambers. East wing, third corridor, the room at the end with the iron handle." I fixed her with a cold hard look. "You will knock. You will enter. You will set it down. You will notlinger. You will not answer questions. You will smile politely and leave. Do you understand me?"

Petra nodded so frantically I was mildly concerned for her neck. "Yes, Chef."

"If I find out you stopped to gossip..."

"I won’t, Chef. I swear it."

I handed over the tray and watched her go, already turning back to my work.

But I made a mental note to find out what had happened to Delia.

Angel’s POV

I woke slowly, the way I always did in unfamiliar places - awareness creeping in before my eyes opened.

Rain. Against the windows, softer this time. It’s gently drizzles tapping against the window glass.

The room was warm, but for some reason, I felt cold.

The bed was very comfortable, and I remained there, staring at the ceiling for a while.

What am I doing here?

Not the existential version of the question - I’d made a kind of peace with the situation, or at least a ceasefire. But the practical one. What happens today? What happens tomorrow? What was expected of me? Should I be getting prepared for something? Be ready for the unforeseen?

I needed information. I needed to know. I needed...

A knock at the door.

I sat up, pushing my hair from my face. "Come in."

The girl who entered was young - younger than the girl from yesterday, the same girl who had seen to my comfort and meal.

This particular one had wide brown eyes and a tray she was carrying with the concentrated focus of someone terrified of dropping it.

"Good morning," I said, watching her. "You’re not the girl from yesterday."

"Yes, my lady." She set the tray on the table without looking up. "I bring breakfast. From the kitchen."

"What’s your name?"

A flicker of hesitation. "Petra, my lady."

"Petra." I swung my legs over the side of the bed. If yesterday’s maid would not talk, maybe this one might. "I have a few questions. Nothing complicated, I promise."

She froze, and I saw something like fear flash through her eyes.

I kept my voice gentle, trying not to scare her away. "Why am I locked in?"

Petra blinked. "I... my lady?"

"The door," I said patiently. "I’ve been locked in since yesterday. On the Alpha’s orders. Do you know why?"

"I... no, my lady. I truly don’t." There was no guile in her face. Just uncertainty and the faint pink flush of someone who wished desperately to be elsewhere. "I’m sorry."

I believed her. "Do you know who I am?"

That one, at least, didn’t cause confusion. She almost looked relieved. "Of course, my lady. Everyone knows. The Alpha came in yesterday with his Luna."

His Luna.

The words settled unpleasantly in my stomach. That name only came with a pool of dread.

"Right." I clasped my hands in my lap. "So if everyone knows I’m the Luna - why isn’t anything happening? Isn’t there supposed to be some kind of ritual? A ceremony?"

Petra worried at her lower lip. "I’m not sure of the details, my lady. But..." She hesitated.

"But?"

"The full moon rises tomorrow night." The words came in a small rush. "That’s when - for wolves - that’s when the rituals for the mate bond are usually performed. Under the full moon."

Tomorrow night.

I had no idea about that. Uriel should’ve mentioned it last night.

If I was going to navigate this werewolf world, I needed to understand its rules. All of them. The ones they told me and the ones they didn’t.

But first.

"I need a favour," I said.

Petra looked like she’d rather be boiled alive.

"Nothing dangerous," I added quickly. "I just need to get a message to someone. His name is Uriel. Can you find him for me and let him know I’d like to speak with him?"

"Uriel?" Her brow furrowed. Genuinely confused. "I don’t... I’m not sure I know that name, my lady."

"You’d know him if you saw him." I stood, walking to the window. The rain gave me something neutral to look at. "He’s tall. Very tall. Long curly hair, dark. Silver eyes." I paused. "Handsome. He carries himself like someone used to authority. Dresses well."

Petra was very quiet.

I glanced at her. "Does that sound familiar?"

"I..." Her expression had gone very strange. "My lady, I genuinely don’t know of anyone named Uriel."

"He’s Lord Merrick’s twin brother."

Silence.

"The only person in this castle," Petra said slowly, choosing each word carefully, "who fits that description - and who also has a twin - is the Alpha himself."

I stared at her.

"You must be misunderstanding me," I said. "Uriel is one of the Alpha’s warriors. He returned with the Alpha yesterday - we all did. I even spoke with him last night..."

"My lady." Her voice was very quiet. Almost apologetic. "I have to go. Chef will be waiting."

And she was gone - door jamming shut - before I could form another word.