Letting My Mate Have a Taste of His Own Medicine

Harper's POV

As I approached my house, the last thing I expected was to see him there—Otis, standing rigidly outside, dressed in a suit that clung to his tall, muscular frame. His handsome face drew the attention of every wolf that passed by.

On any other day, I might have felt a twinge of possessiveness, marching up to him and demanding he leave to keep the prying eyes at bay. But today, all I wanted was to pretend he didn’t exist.

I tried to walk past him, heading straight for my door, but Otis was quicker, falling into step beside me. His voice was calm, almost indifferent, as he spoke. “It’s Jovan’s birthday today. He invited us to dinner.”

Jovan. Of course. He was Otis’s friend, and I didn’t want to drag anyone else into our issues, so I stopped and met Otis’s gaze. “Fine,” I replied, keeping my voice neutral.

The silence between us on the way back to his pack was suffocating. The wind carried a faint scent of jasmine, a scent that was unmistakably Novaria’s. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it gnawed at me, a constant reminder of her presence in his life.

On a whim, I broke the silence. “Do you like the smell of jasmine?”

Otis’s eyes flickered briefly. “It’s fine,” he answered, his tone casual.

Just fine. The words echoed in my mind, stirring up a whirlwind of unasked questions. If it was just fine, then why did I always smell it on him? But I kept my thoughts to myself, unwilling to start a conversation that would only lead to more frustration.

When we arrived at the restaurant, I noticed they were already waiting for us. Novaria’s expression betrayed her surprise at seeing us together. “Good evening, Otis, Harper. We’ve been waiting for you for a while,” she greeted us, her voice laced with something I couldn’t quite place.

I forced a polite smile and turned to Jovan. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring a gift. I came in a hurry.”

Before Jovan could respond, Otis cut in smoothly, “I’ve already given him a gift. Don’t worry about it.” He guided me to the table, where two empty seats awaited us—directly opposite each other. Whether it was intentional or not, I couldn’t tell. But I didn’t hesitate to let go of his hand and take the seat across from him.

Otis’s expression tightened slightly, but he said nothing, choosing to sit beside Novaria instead. I could feel the weight of the unspoken judgments in the air. His friends had never approved of our bond, and their coldness toward me had always been palpable.

In the beginning, I had tried to win them over, offering carefully selected gifts for every holiday. But those gifts had always been met with lukewarm smiles, never used, and likely discarded without a second thought. It was only now, looking back, that I realized how naive I had been.

As I picked at my food, the conversation around the table flowed easily—too easily. Otis, usually so aloof, was in his element, peeling shrimp with a skill I had never seen him use before. He moved the plate of shrimp in front of Novaria, who smiled appreciatively. I watched as he wiped his hands meticulously with a wet wipe, the care he took with her a stark contrast to the indifference he had always shown me.

This was a side of Otis I had never experienced. A side that made my heart ache with a mixture of sadness and resignation.

Jovan, ever the observant one, noticed my silence. He nudged Otis with a teasing grin. “Don’t just favor one person. Peel some shrimp for your mate too.”

It was only then that Otis seemed to realize the situation. He glanced at the empty plate in front of me and said, “Order another plate.”

“No,” I replied, taking a sip of my drink. “I don’t like shrimp.”

Otis looked slightly taken aback. “What about fish then?”

“I don’t like it.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Chicken?”

“I don’t like it either,” I said, my voice calm but firm. The surprise in his eyes was almost amusing, as if he couldn’t comprehend that I could reject something so easily.

Meeting his gaze, I wiped my mouth with a napkin, adding, “I don’t like anything you mentioned.”

The tension at the table was palpable. Novaria, ever the peacemaker, or so they thought, spoke up hesitantly. “Harper, are you angry? Please don’t be upset with Otis. You can have this if you want," she offered, pushing her plate full of peeled shrimp toward me.