Chapter Six-
Jet Lag My Ass
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Chapter Six-Jet Lag My Ass
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Elara’s POV
By the time our flight landed in Minnesota, Cassia had declared herself a martyr at least six times.
She yanked off her neck pillow like it was a boà constrictor, flung it into her carry-on, and announced, “Attention passengers, your beloved Valemont princess has returned from her humanitarian mission abroad, dragging along one surly cousin. Please clap.”
The businessman from row twelve didn’t even look up from his newspaper. The flight attendant just muttered something about never getting paid enough.
“Cassia,” I muttered, dragging my squeaky-wheeled suitcase. “You’re not a princess.”
“Correction,” she said, adjusting her oversized scarf like royalty, “I am the daughter of an Alpha, therefore: princess. Also, my twin owes me twenty bucks.”
“Delusional,” I said.
“Fabulous,” she corrected with a grin.
By baggage claim, Cassia’s scarf got caught in the carousel, and I nearly had to wrestle her free before she got dragged onto the belt.
“Still can’t be trusted in public places, I see,” a warm, amused voice said from behind.
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I froze, then turned.
Caius Valemont leaned against a pillar, leather jacket slung over broad shoulders, smirk sharp as ever. His golden-brown eyes gleamed with the exact mix of charm and mischief I remembered.
Cassia squealed like a child, throwing herself into his arms. “Twin!”
“Don’t call me that in public,” he grumbled, hugging her back.
“You love it,” she sang.
“Debatable.”
Their bickering cracked something warm open inside me. I hadn’t realized how much I missed this until right now.
Caius’s attention slid to me, his grin softening. “Elara.”
“Caius,” I breathed, and he pulled me into a hug that squeezed a laugh out of
“You disappear across the ocean and the first thing I hear is Cass nearly strangled by a scarf?” he said, releasing me. “Checks out.”
“She was born dramatic,” I said.
“I heard that!” Cassia huffed, already stomping toward the exit. “Come on. I need fries.”
“Spain literally fed you patatas bravas,” Caius pointed out.
“Not the same,” she said darkly. “I require American grease.”
The drive toward Valemont Pack was a blur of headlights, forests, and sibling
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Cassia kept leaning over the seat to smack Caius’s arm whenever he teased her about her hat collection. “These are artifacts,” she protested.
“Artifacts from what? The land of questionable taste?” he shot back.
I sat in the back, half-laughing, half-exhausted, the sound of their bickering oddly comforting. After Paris, after Spain and Portugal, after all the noise in my own head… this felt like home.
By the time we pulled into the sweeping drive of Valemont Pack, twilight had dipped the forest in purple shadows. The pack house loomed at the center, all glowing windows and familiar stone, like it had been waiting for us to return.
The heavy front doors opened before Caius had even parked. Alpha Darius Valemont stood framed in the golden light, arms folded across his broad chest. He was every inch the Alpha: tall, dark hair peppered with gray at the temples, lines of authority carved deep into his face. But his eyes sharp gray, like Caius’s softened the second they landed on us.
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“My daughter” he rumbled, then his gaze slid to me, “and my niece”
Darius’s expression shifted into something almost teasing. “When I permitted this little European escape, I told you two-” he pointed between Cassia and me “-no trouble. Was that so difficult?”
Cassia’s grin froze. She slid her sunglasses down her nose like a guilty child.
“Define… trouble?”
Darius pinched the bridge of his nose, but his shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.
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Before he could press further, a familiar figure swept gracefully onto the porch. Seraphina. My mother.
She was elegance personified, her long dark hair pinned up, her healer’s robes faintly scented of lavender and parchment. The moment her eyes found me, her composure cracked. “Elara,” she breathed.
I barely made it up the steps before her arms wrapped tight around me, warm and steady, the one constant in every storm. “You’re home,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to my temple.
Something in my chest unclenched. “I missed you, Mom.”
“I missed you too, sweetheart. Though from the way Cassia’s been sending postcards, I feel like I was on half your trip anyway.” She tilted her head at my cousin. “Seventeen postcards, Cassandra. Seventeen.”
“Artistic documentation,” Cassia said proudly.
Seraphina laughed softly, then drew back to look me over, her healer’s gaze sharp. “You’ve lost a little weight. Too much running around.”
“Too many tapas,” I corrected.
Cassia gasped. “Never too many tapas.”
Behind us, Caius was dragging the last of the luggage toward the door. “If you two start about tapas again, I’m leaving you both at the airport next time.”
“Lies,” Cassia sang. “You’d miss me too much.”
Darius finally chuckled, adjusting the ridiculous hat still perched on his head. “Come in, before the whole pack hears us bickering like children. Supper’s
waiting.”
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As we stepped into the glowing warmth of the Valemont house, Cassia
leaned close to me, whispering, “See? Easy. No trouble at all.”
shot her a look, but couldn’t help laughing.
And for the first time since Paris, I let myself believe I was safe.
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Dinner at Valemont Pack was always a production. The long oak table
gleamed under golden chandeliers, steaming platters lined the center, and
warriors shuffled in and out with more food than three packs could eat. But the real show was always my family.
Alpha Darius sat at the head, his shoulders straight as a general, though the ridiculous wide-brimmed hat Cassia had dumped on him earlier still hung crooked off the coat rack behind him. Cassia smirked every time she glanced at
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“I said don’t bring trouble back with you,” Alpha Darius said now, carving into his roast. His golden eyes flicked toward Cassia. “What did I get instead? Trouble
squared.”
Cassia gasped, placing a hand to her chest. “Father! I’m innocent.”
Caius snorted into his drink. “That’s a lie so big it should be carved into stone.”
“I only dragged Elara to three countries, two questionable bars, and one flamenco club,” Cassia said brightly. “That’s practically tame.”
“Practically tame?” Alpha Darius echoed, dry as the desert. “Only my daughter could measure chaos in flamenco.”
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I choked on my water, laughing into my napkin.
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At my side, Mom watched quietly, her hands folded neatly on the table. Her expression was calm, her smile soft- but her eyes… they flicked to me again and again, sharp with an intuition I couldn’t dodge. She didn’t say anything, but I could feel her watching me too closely, as if she already knew something I didn’t
want to admit.
“So,” Alpha Darius continued, spearing another slice of meat, “did you embarrass this pack name across Europe or not?”
Cassia leaned in like she was about to deliver state secrets. “Depends on how you define embarrassing.”
Caius groaned. “Please stop talking.”
Cassia ignored him, turning her attention on me. “You know, cousin here—”
“Cassia,” I hissed.
“-she had the glow the entire trip. Especially after Paris.”
My fork clattered against my plate. “I do not glow.”
“Oh, you glowed,” Cassia shot back smugly.
Alpha Darius’s gaze slid between us, his mouth twitching like he was suppressing a grin. “Paris, hm?”
Heat rushed up my neck. “It was… fine. Just sightseeing.”
Cassia fanned herself with her napkin. “Oh, she saw sights, all right.”
“Cassia!” I wanted to crawl under the table.
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Mom’s hand brushed mine under the tablecloth – gentle, grounding. When I dared look at her, her expression hadn’t changed, but there was something in her eyes. Concern. Suspicion. A quiet knowledge.
My chest tightened.
f
Alpha Darius cleared his throat. “Well. If trouble squared brought our niece back safe, I’ll call it a victory.” His golden eyes narrowed slightly. “Though if you’re hiding anything, Elara, you’d best know-Valemont walls have ears.”
The whole table laughed, Caius tipping his glass toward me in mock sympathy. But Mom didn’t laugh.
She just kept watching.
And for the first time all night, my appetite vanished.
By the time I escaped Cassia’s endless commentary about “airport men ranking” (Lisbon got five stars, Paris an eleven, and Madrid a “tragedy”), I thought my ears might actually bleed.
But the universe wasn’t done punishing me.
I barely made it to the washbasin before the wave of nausea hit again. Gripping the porcelain edge, I leaned over, breath shallow, praying I wouldn’t hurl up Alpha Darius’s perfectly cooked dinner. My reflection in the mirror looked pale, curls springing every which way, eyes dark with shadows.
“Fantastic,” I muttered. “I look like a wet raccoon.”
And then-because apparently I’d angered every god in existence-the door banged open.
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“Cassia!” I clutched my chest. “Ever heard of knocking?”
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Cassia swept in, scarf trailing dramatically behind her, sunglasses still perched on her head though it was night, holding a crumpled paper bag like she was smuggling treasure.
“Elara Quinn,” she declared, her voice far too loud for a sleeping household. “Your destiny has arrived.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Please tell me it’s chocolate.”
“Better.” She dropped the bag on the bed, bouncing down after it. “Much
better.”
I sighed. “If it’s another hideous scarf-”
She whipped the box halfway out of the bag and then shoved it back in with theatrical flair. “Totally not a pregnancy test.”
My stomach dropped. “Cassia!”
“What?” She grinned, looking far too pleased with herself. “You’ve been queasy since Paris. You fell asleep during tapas in Madrid. And tonight at dinner, you looked at stew like it was poison. Stew, Elara. Your favorite. Clearly, you’re pregnant.”
“That’s not “I sputtered, crossing my arms. “It’s jet lag.”
Cassia gasped. “Jet lag doesn’t make you glow like a firefly.”
“Glow?!” My cheeks flamed.
“Yes, glow.” She pointed at me like she was solving a crime. “Your skin? Radiant. Your hair? Bouncier. And don’t even get me started on your boobs-”
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“What?!” She cackled, throwing herself backward on the bed. “I’m observant!”
I hurled a pillow at her face. “You’re insufferable.”
She muffled a laugh into the pillow before peeking out. “Admit it, you hooked up.”
Heat flooded me again. “It’s none of your business.”
“Oh, it’s very much my business,” she said, eyes sparkling with wicked glee. “Because if you’re pregnant, then I’m going to be Aunt Cassia, which, frankly, sounds iconic.” She raised her hands like she was presenting the title in glittering lights. “Aunt Cassia: chaos coordinator and snack supplier.””
I lunged for the bag, but she snatched it up, darting to the other side of the room. “Touch this, and I’ll scream.”
“Cassia, give it to me!”
“Say it.” She grinned. “Say you hooked up.”
Before I could throttle her, the door creaked again.
We froze.
“Girls.”
Mom’s voice cut through the room like soft steel.
Seraphina stepped in, her presence instantly sobering us both. She looked elegant as always, robe flowing around her, hair loosely braided, silver glinting in the strands. Her eyes-sharp, knowing-swept over the bag in Cassia’s hands, the guilty flush on my face, and the mess of pillows on the bed.
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“Mother,” I blurted, standing so fast I nearly tripped. “We were just—”
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“Plotting,” Cassia said brightly, because betrayal was apparently her love
language.
I hissed, “Cassia!”
But Mom came closer, closing the door with deliberate calm. She didn’t scold, didn’t raise her voice. She simply looked at me-long, steady, seeing too much. My pulse thundered under her gaze.
She brushed a curl back from my cheek. “Jet lag doesn’t change a woman’s scent, Elara.”
The room tilted. My throat worked, but no words came. “M-Mother…”
Her thumb rested at my temple, gentle but unyielding. “When you’re ready to tell me the truth, you will.”
Then she pressed a kiss to my forehead, her warmth both comforting and terrifying, and left as quietly as she’d come.
The door clicked shut.
Cassia immediately hissed, “SEE? Even your mom can smell it! You’re glowing, you’re moody, you’re nauseous. You’re totally pregnant.”
I groaned, flopping face-first onto the bed. “Cassia, I swear-
“Shhh.” She shoved the bag onto my back. “The stick of destiny awaits.”
I grabbed a pillow and hurled it at her head. “You’re the worst.”
“I’m the best.” She dodged, laughing so loudly I worried she’d wake half the pack. “You can’t hide this forever, cousin. Either you pee on that stick, or I will.”
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I groaned louder, muffling my face in the pillow, but the laughter only tangled with the panic in my chest. Because no matter how much I wanted to deny it, she wasn’t wrong.
Something was different. Something was shifting inside me.
And no matter how many times I whispered “just one night” into the dark… deep down, I knew it wasn’t just one night.
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