Page 78 of Alpha Mates

Aiden

I wake up on a mission to show Julian Heil how to let off some steam.

If anyone had told me a year ago that I’d be doing anything nicefor Julian, I would’ve punched them in the face—my future self included. And yet, here I am.

I, Aiden Jade Calderon, am doing this shit of my own free will because I want to make that veggie-freak I call a mate happy. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

And fallen we have,Max agrees while I work on breakfast. “Work on,” because scraping together a meal that isn’t a salad for a vegetarian keeps upping its difficulty level.You do know that this mission of yours is impossible, right? Julian Heil doesn’t have fun; he alphabetises it..

Which is exactly why I’m fixing that.Were potatoes supposed to look like this?I’ll ease him into it. We’ll start with the stuff he likes.

It’s been just under a month since Julian and I learnt we were mates, and in that time, I’d come to realise that our definitions of fun lived in two different ballparks. I like to fuck around in any way that promises a spiked heart rate, while Julian willingly spent his free time reading books and going on walks. But where we differ doesn’t matter ’cause today isn’t about me. It’s about Jewels, which means taking things at his pace, and if that leads to the most mind-numbingly dull day ever, then I’d find a way to survive it.

Careful, Aiden. You’re starting to sound smitten.

I ignore Max’s taunts as I lift the pan off the flame and empty its mushy contents onto the awaiting plate. I’m not “smitten” with Julian. I mean, he’s my mate, and I no longer hate spending time with him, but exactly how muchI now like Julian is not something I plan to think about.

“What poison are you concocting in here?” Julian shuffles into the kitchen, still half asleep and already critical.

“Good morning to you too, Jewels,” I greet, watching him rub one of his eyes as he drags himself over to my side. He leans against me, and my heart tries to fold in on itself.

“Um.” I clear my throat, glancing desperately at the plate like it might remind me what I was doing before Jewels came in here acting all cute. “It’s a vegetarian hash. I found the recipe in one of your books.”

Julian’s sharp gaze flicks from the open cookbook I’d snagged off his bookshelf, to the steaming plate. A single golden brow arches. He looks between the photo and my attempt once, twice. By the third time, I flip the piece of shit off.

“It’ll taste good,” I insist, snatching the book off the counter and slamming it shut.

“I didn’t say anything,” he says, laughter muffled behind his hand. “It doesn’t matter how it looks. Like you said, it’ll probably taste good.”

“You see, it’s that ‘probably’ I don’t like,” I reply from the living room. I find the empty slot and work it back into place before shouting, “You’re eating it even if it doesn’t!”

Julian’s snort drifts from the kitchen, filling the already warm space with his laughter.

Yesterday, Julian and I moved into his hobbit cottage. It looked the same way it had the night of our birthday, with boxes waiting to be unpacked, but somehow, we’d managed it all last night. Now, our crash point for the next few weeks looks like it’d been pulled straight out of a human magazine spread.

I like my place fine—it’s perfect for me—but I can admit that Julian’s home is actually … nice. The wood panels on the outside of the house are dark, mirrored on the inside with soft, brown leather furnishings, and the contrasting silver of stainless steel appliances. The open layout is flooded with light from the entire wall of floor-to-ceiling sliding glass doors that face the waiting woodlands. It isn’t my style, but it’s very Julian and, like always when I was with him, I slept like a baby last night.

“I thought I’d find you burying it in the trash,” I say, walking back into the kitchen to find him shovelling the hash into his mouth instead.

“It’s good,” he says, eyes wide with surprise.

“Of course it’s good,” I say—never mind that towards the end there, I’d just started throwing stuff in and hoping for the best.

“Where’s your food?” he asks after swallowing another mouthful.

“I’llbe hunting my lunch, and you’re going to help me.”

Julian’s chewing halts. “I will?”

I nod.

“Are you forgetting that I’m a vegetarian?”

“How could I forget?” I retort, and he scowls. “I know you don’t kill or eat anything unless it’s made of grass, but that doesn’t mean you can’t help me hunt, right?”

I try to sound casual, even though it sort of isn’t. All werewolves, except for Julian I guess, hunt. We always hunt with others, whether that was as a pack or as a family. But with mates, it’s supposed to be more … intimate. Usually, the more dominant wolf hunts for their mate while they watch on. My skin itches to do just that, but it would offend Julian, just like it would offend me if he tried to pull that shit. And because I can’t hunt legumes, I came up with a compromise—we’d hunt together, with Julian helping me corner my prey. And maybe, just maybe, we could do it without killing each other in the process.

“Alright,” Julian replies eventually, and then nods, solidifying his decision. “I’ll help you hunt, but that’s it.”