Page 90 of The Alpha's Bullied Rejected Mate

She gave a teasing hum. “You look like someone awaiting judgment on a food competition show.”

“I mean, this kind of is a competition,” he said under his breath. “I’m trying to win you over with all of these.”

The silence stretched for a heartbeat, then her laughter burst forth. It was rich and full, and the tightness in his chest eased just a fraction.

God, that sound. If he could bottle it, he would.

He waved a hand toward the feast. “There’s, uh—a bit of everything you like. I tried to remember them all.”

“Marcus…” Her voice was tender now,

He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly hyper-aware of his own babbling. “Honeyed apples, chicken seasoned soup, and—yeah. There’s your favorite dessert, too.”

Shut up.

“You remembered everything,” she said, her eyes roaming around the table. “Even the wine.”

He looked down, shy for a second. “Well… you’re worth remembering.”

She didn’t speak right away. Just reached for the goblet and sipped, her eyes never leaving his face.

“You know,” she said after a moment, “if you ever quit being a hunter, you could definitely pass for a chef.”

“An Alpha chef?” He made a show of considering it. “I would be the black sheep of the family.”

“Or the trailblazer,” she grinned. “Legacy of Marcus Vale: the first multi-talented Alpha of Moon Ridge. Epic. You have my support.”

They both laughed into the night.

But then her laughter quieted, and her voice dropped again. “Marcus—” she drawled.

He knew where this was going. They had avoided it long enough. He raised his hand gently.

“Please, let me start.”

She nodded and went silent.

The air between them thinned, as if the world leaned in to listen.

“I know I can’t fix it all with one dinner,” he began, his voice unsteady.

“Or a flower. Or these ridiculous, beautiful candles that are melting way faster than I expected.”

She gave a soft, teary laugh.

“But I remember what it felt like to make you happy,” he continued, his eyes raw. “And I never want to forget that again.”

Athena looked at him for a long, aching moment.

“You said this wasn’t meant to be romantic,” she whispered.

He gave a helpless shrug. “I know. I tried. I really tried. But it’s hard not to feel things when I’m with you.”

It was the most honest thing he had said all night.

Something inside him stirred—his wolf pressed closer to the surface, aching to reach for her hand. But he stayed still.

She didn’t look away from him. She didn’t smile. Didn’t say a word. But her eyes shimmered to his softly as they held each other’s gaze.