Kian
"You want to cook for me?" She looks surprised. I nod. I'm not the best cook, but that's why we have Google, right?
"Pasta!" She loves pasta.
I lean over the counter, getting my face close to hers. I notice her pert nose twitching, as if she's trying to hold back a smile. Gently, I brush my nose against hers.
"Pasta coming up."
I then begin preparing the ingredients for the dish, rolling my sleeves up to my elbows.
As I cook, she's texting on her phone, probably chatting with a friend. 'Not Lorenzo, I hope,' my wolf murmurs. I share that sentiment; I hope it's not that bastard either.
Suddenly, a loud gasp rings out from the entrance as a male chef strides into the kitchen. "You!" he shouts, startling my mate. "Why are you letting the Alpha cook while you just s
