His Gentle Voice, His Cruel Thoughts Chapter 01
But after being bonded to Alder Garrison, Alpha of the Noirwood pack, for five years, this was the first time I had ever heard his thoughts. They felt like a blade driven straight into my heart.
Alder tucked the corners of the blanket around me and dimmed the bedside lamp. When he spoke, his voice was as gentle as ever.
“Get some good sleep. I’ll be right here by your side.”
A second later, I heard his thoughts again.
[Finally. Some peace and quiet.]
Those were just simple words, yet they hurt deeper than any venomous insult ever could.
I didn’t say another word and lay silently on my side of the bed. The heavy blanket pressed down suffocatingly against my chest.
Beside me, Alder tapped on his phone, as if it had all been my imagination, but I knew the truth.
Something had happened.
…
The next morning, my high fever finally broke.
Suppressing memories of the night before, I got out of bed at my usual hour to prepare breakfast, including maple-syrup oatmeal, crispy bacon, buttered toast, and a cup of strong black coffee to wake the senses.
After five years, I knew Alder’s culinary preferences like the back of my hand. Everything was cooked precisely to his liking.
At 7:00 am sharp, he returned from his morning training session and took a seat at the dining table. After picking up the cup of coffee, he took a small sip.
[Oatmeal again? Is this the only thing she knows how to make?]
My entire body went rigid, and I nearly dropped the spoon in my hand.
“Alpha Alder… I took extra care to simmer the oatmeal for 40 minutes today. The texture should be a little softer than yesterday. Let me know if you like it.”
Alder didn’t let a single trace of complaint show on his face. Instead, he looked up and gave me a brief glance before nodding and smiling as usual.
“Thank you, Maeve. I like it as long as you made it.”
But his thoughts were [Whatever.]
I stared down at the bowl of food sitting in front of him. Suddenly, I couldn’t remember why I had wasted 40 minutes to make it.
Over a thousand mornings.
Over a thousand bowls of oatmeal.
It turned out that for the past five years, I was the only one touched by my devotion.
At 10:00 am, Alder’s mother, Genevieve Stone, arrived at the villa.
She walked in, draped in an ivory wool coat, with diamonds around her neck glittering brilliantly even in bright daylight. Two Omega maids trailed closely behind her, carrying shopping bags.
“Where’s Alder?” she asked the moment she stepped through the door.
“He’s at the office,” I replied. “Mother, would you like me to brew a cup of tea for you?”
Her smile didn’t reach her eyes as she thought. [Mother? Who does she think she is, calling me that?]
My fingers gripped the edges of the tea tray tightly.
Genevieve slowly paced across the living room, critically inspecting everything around her.
“The roses in the vase are dying,” she casually remarked. “As the Alpha’s mate, you should spend a little more effort managing your home.”
“I’ll swap them out right away,” I replied.
Her thoughts rang out. [She wastes every second of her life hovering around Alder, but standing next to him, she still looks miserably plain.]
Before I could even recover from the blow of the first thought, a second thought struck me hard.
[If her father hadn’t sacrificed his life to save my mate from that Rogue pack attack years ago, I would never have allowed the exceptional Alder to bond with her!]
In that moment, I forgot how to breathe.
Father had indeed died protecting the former Alpha. His sacrifice was brought up at every pack gathering, as if it were a glorious testament to loyalty.
I had genuinely believed that because of his legacy, the Garrisons treated me as one of their own. But now, I finally saw the truth.
This was just a transactional obligation to repay a debt of honor.
Silently, I swapped out the dying flowers and set up fresh roses on the table.
Genevieve glanced at me and thought. [Well, at least she’s obedient. I suppose that’s somewhat useful.]
I took a seat across from her. My hand remained perfectly steady as I poured her tea, and the smile on my lips remained gentle and polite.
But this time, there wasn’t a single ounce of sincerity left in my actions.
That evening, Alder’s Beta called the villa.
“Alpha Alder has an important meeting tonight, so he won’t be home for dinner. But he wanted me to tell you to go to bed early. He said he’ll miss you.”
“Understood,” I replied.
The call was ended.
I sat alone at the dining table built for twelve as the candlelight threw long, flickering shadows across my surroundings.
I had cooked dinner, a spread of braised short ribs, garlic-mashed potatoes, and rosemary-roasted vegetables. Every single dish on the table was Alder’s favorite.
I cut a piece of meat and chewed it slowly.
The food in my mouth tasted like nothing at all, as if all the flavor had been drained away.
