Page 59 of Alpha Mates

He’s nervous. The realisation makes butterflies swarm inside of me, fluttering about with all the excitement of a newly shifted pup, and it takes everything to keep my smile small as I peer at him.

“This is fine, Aiden,” I assure him. “In fact, this is a welcomed surprise. Honestly, I thought you were incompetent at anything that doesn’t have a touch of violence.”

“Funny,” he deadpans. “That’s exactly why I mixed your salad with chicken.”

Stiffening, I eye the bowl with newfound distrust. “You wouldn’t.”

Aiden forgets our dinner to step into my personal space. “We both know I would,” he says with a devious grin.

Before I can reply, he dips down and presses his nose to my shoulder. He doesn’t mask his desire as he nuzzles my skin, inhaling deeply as though he’s only just finding air again.

“Bless Goddess,” he groans over a heavy, satisfied rumble. “I missed that scent.”

My cheeks grow hot when he wraps his arms around my waist and draws me in for more as if it’s his Goddess-given right. It feels like it, and I don’t mind as he rubs his thumb over my neck.

Goosebumps prickle over my skin as he silently leaves his scent on me like a mark. My knees wobble, and when Aiden pulls away, I have to slam a hand on the counter to keep myself upright, holding onto it for dear life while I contend with the coaxing traces of his scent on me.

“Alright, time to eat,” Aiden says, stepping back. “I’m fucking starving.”

I watch, frazzled, while Aiden plates my salad before he grabs his towering sandwich and makes his way to the small dining table. He’s as giddy as everwhile I’m still trying to recover from the warmth of his touch. He’s all over me, his scent mixed with mine, and it’s far better than the passing traces he’d left on my wrist this morning.

“Julian?”

Shit.

Embodying the picture of calm, I bring my plate to the table. When I sit down, it does its job of hiding just how much I liked Aiden scenting me, and I do mine by keeping my eyes solely on my allegedly contaminated salad.

“I was joking earlier,” he says around a mouthful of his sandwich.How had he managed to calm down so quickly?“It’s fine.”

I hold his gaze, searching for a tell, but when all I find is boredom and dwindling patience, I gather up a forkful and take a bite.

“Or was I?”

My chewing halts. Eyes wide, I look up at my mate who lets a beat pass before he doubles over laughing, almost spitting out some of his food in the process. While he chokes and reminds me exactly why I’ve always hated him, I contemplate the best way to scalp him with a fork.

“I hate you,” I grumble, stabbing my salad.

“It’s not good to lie, Jewels,” Aiden chuckles as he sobers. He’s left with a big smile on his face, and I don’t hate it—can’t anymore.

We eat in silence after that. Aiden scarfs down his monstrous sandwich and, for all my teasing, the salad is actually good. What’s better is eating with him. It started by force with the bond, but we didn’t stop when the discomfort of being apart did.

In my house, I ate most of my meals alone. Breakfast was the only exception with my mother, which I’d never really enjoyed because she always found something to lecture me about. But it’s different with Aiden. It’s easy, comfortable—yet another thing I’m newly addicted to.

He takes his last bite and goes to speak like the pig he is.

“Swallow before you utter a single syllable, or I swear to Goddess Aiden, I’m going to stab you,” I warn, lifting my fork so he can see what I’ll use.

He rolls his eyes, but dutifully chews his mouthful and swallows before he sticks his tongue out for examination.

“Cute.”

“I try,” he retorts. “But I just wanted to know, all jokes aside, was it good?”

I raise a brow.

“The salad, Julian.”

“Oh,” I pause. “Yeah, it was good.”