That night, Alpha Fernando never came home.
I sat alone at the kitchen bar, moonlight spilling in through the window, slowly sipping my now-cold coffee.
He didn’t walk through the door until early the next morning, just as the first rays of dawn crept across the floor.
I heard his footsteps, but didn’t look up. He wandered around the room for a bit, then stopped in front of the table, as if expecting something.
“Uh… where’s mine?” he asked, voice uncertain.
I finally looked up at him, honestly surprised he had the nerve to ask.
“What?”
“My breakfast.” He pointed at the empty table. “You didn’t save me any?”
I shrugged, my tone as flat as cold water. “Didn’t see you, so I only made mine.”
He blinked, genuinely stunned. Of course he was. Ever since we formed our temporary mate bond,
