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“Probably distracted by your charm.”
He chuckled, leaning forward and grabbed the fork I’d used before off my plate. “What charm? I have about as much charm as a ground squirrel.” Mat stabbed a chunk of meat, dunked it in gravy and looked up to face me. “They’re just excited to have me here for dinner.”
“What do you mean?” In Hollow Stone, the Alpha and his household were expected to eat every dinner in the dining hall with the rest of the pack.
“I don’t usually eat here,” he said, popping the meat in his mouth.
“They send your food to your room?”
He chuckled again, stabbing another piece of meat. “No, I have my own house, thank you very much. Only unmated, warrior wolves have rooms in the packhouse. Everyone else has their own homes.”
“But you’re not mated.” Not a question.
“No. But I am the Alpha, which means I get to do whatever I want.” His smile was feline, wicked. “And no, they don’t send me food, I cook for myself.”
Mat continued eating while I watched him. His pack was so different from ours. He was so different to any other Alpha I’ve ever met before.
“Do you eat alone?”
He smiled, answering around the food in his mouth. “Not always.”
“Why?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking. “Why do you cook for yourself when others could do it for you? And why eat alone?”
“Why not?” He shrugged. “I like cooking.” Another stab of his fork, “and I like being alone.”
“But,” I searched for the right words, “that’s so un-Alpha-like.”
“Un-Alpha-like?” He eyed me sceptically, pausing his chewing.
“Yes. Alpha’s don’t do that.”
Amusement twinkled in his eyes as he began chewing again, slowly. “I’m an Alpha, and I do it.”
I gaped at him.
“Who made these,” he waved his fork lazily in the air, “rules anyway?”
My mother’s face popped into my mind, but I didn’t answer. Was it a thing? Or did my mother make it a thing? I couldn’t be sure. I’d never mingled with other packs save for Hollow Stone and Shadow Creek.
“Do you?” He suddenly asked, lifting his face to read my reaction. “Do you eat alone?”
“We’re not allowed to. I mean, we’re encouraged to dine with the pack every day. The cooks prepare our meals, breakfast, lunch and dinner, so we simply walk in, sit down and eat.”
“They bring the food to you, as well?”
“Yes,” I answered suddenly feeling small, and utterly spoiled.
“Fancy,” he grumbled, frowning.
I could see a million questions forming in his mind as he paused eating for a moment, staring at the wall. “How do they know what you want to eat though? Or does everybody get the same?”
“Uh-we don’t get a choice. The food is delivered, and we eat it.”
Mat raised a single brow as he stared at me.
“To be honest, I’ve never really thought much about it. Having a choice in the matter never occurred to me.”
“What if you don’t like what they serve you?”
