Mated with a human

chapter 3

He wasn’t the owner of the mansion.

Nor the king of this territory.

Not yet.

Jason walked through the lounging area, his footsteps soundless on the polished floor. The room was dim, lit only by the pale moonlight pouring through the wide windows. His mother stood in front of one of them, staring out into the dark forest. A mug rested in her elegant hands.

She wore a long, flowing dress that brushed the floor with every subtle movement. The back was completely bare, revealing flawless pale skin. Her hair—long, red, and glossy like fire in the moonlight—was tied in a sleek ponytail that reached the middle of her back. Jason had inherited that striking red hair from her.

He moved closer, his voice low.

“Mother.”

Cillian didn’t turn. She didn’t even shift her gaze from the window.

“Where are you coming from?” she asked, her tone calm but firm.

Jason came to a stop just behind her.

“Hunting,” he said simply.

That one word made her shoulders tense. Slowly, she turned to face him, her expression cold, unreadable. Her eyes—sharp and intelligent—locked with his.

“Hunting humans again?” she asked quietly, but the disappointment in her voice struck harder than a shout.

Jason smirked, unbothered.

“Mother, I thought we spoke about this.”

Cillian took a slow step toward him, her eyes never leaving his.

“Have you forgotten your father’s warning?” she whispered. “If he finds out… there will be trouble. He was very clear about hunting humans. Killing them. Killing innocent souls.”

Jason let out a short breath, almost a laugh.

“You should relax. I stopped hunting humans a while ago,” he said. “Now let’s talk about something important.”

Immediately, Cillian sensed where the conversation was headed. Her expression shifted—tiredness, avoidance, maybe even fear flickered through her eyes for a second. She brushed past him, moving toward the table to set her mug down.

“We can discuss it in the morning,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “I’m exhausted. I need to rest.”

Jason watched her head for the stairs, irritation flickering across his face.

“You can’t avoid the topic forever,” he called after her. “We need to talk. I’m not letting it go.”

Cillian didn’t answer. She just continued up the stairs, her footsteps soft but her silence loud. As she disappeared into the hallway, she released a long sigh—one Jason wasn’t meant to hear.

He huffed, running a hand through his red hair, then turned and walked toward his own bedroom. The night had worn him out more than he wanted to admit.

He’d let her rest—for now.

But the conversation wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

........

It was early in the morning, the kind of morning Luke’s grandmother had lived through thousands of times. She woke up before the sun, as she always did, stretching her bones gently before rising from the bed. After washing up in the bathroom, she tidied her room with practiced ease, smoothing the blankets, opening the window for fresh air, and making everything neat.

She stepped out of her room, ready to start preparing breakfast—

But the moment she walked into the hallway, a rich aroma hit her like a warm wave.

She halted.

The house smelled of fresh pancakes, something frying gently, and… was that coffee?

She frowned slightly, confused, then heard soft noises coming from the kitchen. Pots, utensils… someone moving around.

She walked toward the kitchen, curious.

When she stepped in, she froze—then smiled.

Luke was busy at the stove, flipping pancakes like he’d lived here his whole life. He looked so focused, humming softly under his breath. The sight warmed her heart more than the aroma in the air.

“Morning,” she greeted softly.

Luke lifted his head, turning toward her with a bright smile.

“Morning, Granny.”

She stepped inside fully, hands on her hips.

“And what exactly are you doing in my kitchen this early?”

“Making breakfast,” he replied simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh no, my boy, there’s no need—”

Before she could finish, Luke wiped his hands on a cloth and walked to her. He gently pulled out a chair and guided her to sit.

“Grandma,” he said teasingly, “I just wanted to spoil you a little. Is that a crime now?”

She let out a soft laugh and sat, shaking her head.

“You’re trouble,” she murmured affectionately.

Luke began serving her a plate—fluffy pancakes stacked neatly, scrambled eggs, and perfectly fried bacon. He then served his own plate and sat opposite her.

“Thank you, my boy,” she said warmly, her voice full of pride.

The two began eating together, smiling, talking lightly, the peaceful morning wrapping around them like a warm blanket.

For the first time in a long while, the house felt full again.

.....

Sofia’s Morning — Narrative POV

Sofia woke up with a pounding headache that felt like tiny hammers knocking inside her skull. A low groan escaped her lips as she forced her eyes open. Her body felt heavy, sore, and her mouth tasted like regret.

“Ugh… never again,” she whispered to herself—even though she knew very well she would do it again.

She pushed herself up, rubbing her temples, and glanced at the time on her phone.

11:47 AM.

She had slept way too long.

Dragging herself out of bed, she stumbled to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face. It helped a little… but not enough.

When she walked downstairs, the house was quiet. Breakfast was already over—she could smell the faint scent of toast and bacon lingering in the air, now cold.

In the lounging area, she found Molly and Zoe sitting comfortably on the big velvet couch, munching on snacks like it was a movie day.

Her voice came out rough.

“Morning…”

Molly looked up at her and burst out laughing.

“You look like you got hit by a truck.”

Zoe giggled, covering her mouth.

“You really drank too much last night.”

“Don’t remind me,” Sofia muttered, dropping beside them.

Molly quickly got up and walked to the kitchen.

“Sit. I’ll make you strong coffee. You need it more than oxygen.”

Sofia leaned back with a deep sigh, her head resting against the couch. When Molly returned, she handed her a steaming mug.

“Thank you,” Sofia said, taking a grateful sip.

Zoe popped another chip into her mouth.

“Your aunty left earlier. She said she’s going shopping—maybe groceries or something for the house.”

“Oh,” Sofia nodded, sipping again. “Good… at least she didn’t see me crawling in last night.”

That made all of them laugh.

Soon they were chatting about the party—

How crowded it was.

How wild Sofia danced.

How Jayson almost slipped trying to show off.

How Molly tried to flirt with the DJ and got ignored.

Their laughter filled the room, wiping away the last bits of Sofia’s headache and reminding her how much she loved moments like these.

.....