Chapter 205
AYLA’S POV
Three days had passed since the battle. Three days since Jake nearly died and scared the living hell out of me. Since I watched him dragged into the healer’s den with more blood than breath in his body and had to pretend I didn’t fall apart every time someone said, “He’s stable—for now.”
Now, he was home.
More accurately, he was in the packhouse’s tiny kitchen, staring at a pot of boiling water like it might try to kill him.
“Is it supposed to bubble that much?” he asked, squinting.
“That’s what boiling is, genius,” I said, stepping in beside him and lowering the heat. “You’re cooking pasta, not summoning a demon.”
He grunted and stepped back, arms crossed over that infuriatingly broad chest. “Still think it looks suspicious.”
“You literally shift into a seven-foot wolf monster under the moon, but boiling water is what makes you nervous?”
“I’m good at mauling. Not… meals.”
I laughed—actually laughed, the kind that bubbles up without warning. It felt so good to just… be. No blood, no witches, no ancient curses looming. Just me and this awkward man trying to make dinner for the first time in what had to be a decade.
“Go sit down before you hurt yourself,” I teased, bumping him with my hip. “I’ve got this.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Fine. But I’m still claiming credit if it tastes good.”
I rolled my eyes and started mixing the sauce while Jake settled into the chair by the fireplace. He watched me. Not in the “controlling Alpha” way I’d grown used to seeing in this world, but with this quiet, steady attention that made my stomach flip in the worst-best way.
“You always do that?” he asked after a few minutes.
“Do what?”
“Hum while you cook.”
I hadn’t even realized I was humming. Probably some song my mom used to sing while she stirred soup. It was a dumb thing to get choked up about, but I felt it anyway.
“I guess so,” I said, softer now. “Old habit.”
Jake nodded and didn’t push. Gods, I loved that about him. The silence between us was never heavy. It never felt like he was waiting to pounce on my pain. He just let me be.
Dinner came together surprisingly well. The pasta didn’t turn into mush, the garlic bread didn’t burn (miracle), and I even found a half-bottle of red wine stashed in the back of the pantry. We set the table in front of the fire—because neither of us was fancy enough for candles—and I forced Jake to sit down while I plated the food.
When I set his bowl in front of him, he raised both eyebrows. “You trying to seduce me with carbs?”
“Obviously,” I said, taking the seat across from him. “Pasta is my love language.”
He took one bite and his eyes actually widened. “Okay… damn. This is good. Like, restaurant good.”
I smirked and took a sip of wine. “Told you I could cook.”
Jake twirled his fork, then paused. “How come you never mentioned that before?”
“Because we’ve kind of been busy with, I don’t know, pregnancy, witches, kidnappings, demonic threats, and your near-death experience?”
“Fair point,” he said, chuckling.
Gods, when he laughed… It wasn’t just sound. It was warmth, this deep, rumbling thing that made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I could stop holding my breath.
We ate slowly, talking about nothing and everything. The food. The pack. How Chris had tried to delegate his Beta duties for a full day to someone named Kellan, who fainted after fifteen minutes of paperwork. Jake told me about the time he and Prisca got locked in the armory when they were teenagers and tried to dig their way out with spoons.
It was the first time he’d mentioned her since… well, since everything.
I waited, watching him.
“You miss her?” I asked gently.
Jake looked down at his glass, thumb running along the rim. “Yeah. Every day.”
“I get it,” I said softly. “You don’t have to feel guilty for it.”
His gaze snapped up to mine, surprised.
“I’m not her,” I said. “I don’t want to be. But I’d like to be… someone real to you. Not just the girl who happened to carry your child.”
Jake leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You already are. You have been for a long time. I’m just… not good at saying things.”
“I noticed,” I teased, my smile tugging despite the serious topic.
He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly flustered. “I meant… I want this. You. Even when you drive me insane and steal all the blankets.”
“You sleep like a dragon curled around a treasure chest. I have to steal them or I’ll freeze to death.”
Jake laughed again, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”
“You like it.”
He gave me a look. “Unfortunately.”
We were quiet again for a moment, the fire crackling, our plates mostly empty. Then Jake reached out, fingers brushing mine.
It was the softest touch I’d ever felt from him.
“I didn’t think I’d live to see you again,” he said. “When I was bleeding out… all I could think about was how stupid I’d been. That I hadn’t told you how much I—”
He stopped, cheeks flushing, throat tightening.
I grinned. “Are you choking on emotions, Alpha?”
“Shut up.”
“You were gonna say something romantic and now you’re panicking.”
“I’m not panicking.”
“You’re definitely panicking.”
Jake groaned and leaned back. “You ruin everything.”
“No, I make it better. Admit it—you were about to confess something dramatic.”
He stared at me, jaw clenched.
Then, under his breath: “I love you, okay?”
My heart stuttered.
I blinked. “What?”
“I said I love you,” he repeated, louder this time. “And you make me awkward and ridiculous and soft and I hate it—but I love you anyway. Gods help me.”
I bit my lip, heat blooming in my chest. “That’s the most romantic disaster of a confession I’ve ever heard.”
“Thanks,” he said dryly.
I stood and walked over to him, taking his face in my hands. He leaned into the touch like it grounded him.
“I love you too, Jake,” I whispered. “Even when you burn toast and snore like a dying bear.”
“Sexy,” he muttered.
I laughed and kissed him—slow, sweet, and full of everything I hadn’t said. Everything I’d been afraid to feel.
When we pulled apart, his expression was soft. Vulnerable. “You’re my future now,” he said quietly. “Not a duty. Not a consequence. You. Us.”
And for the first time in what felt like forever, I believed him.
No curses. No battles. No running.
Just this.
Just us.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
