Vilka and Zephyr were the only ones at the table for dinner. After the Alpha settled down, his eyes flitted over the empty seats before landing on his mother, whose grey, expectant eyes were already on him.
"Hello, Mother. Good evening," he greeted, and Vilka waited a full second before she answered.
"Good evening, Zephyr."
Then there was silence as the omegas served the dishes. "Even when your daughters are not here, you still exchange eye contact with the air around to confirm my greeting." The Alpha's voice surprisingly cut through the quiet dining room.
Vilka was struck. Undeniably.
She was still not used to the Alpha's now casual greetings, and now he was… making a joke? Speaking with sarcasm?
"Did I say something wrong? You look terrified," he observed, his eyes tracing his mother's features.
Vilka blinked, rearranging her thought process. Then she waved her hand at the omegas and they all hurried out in a file.
