Chapter 16
Julian
“Alright, get up,” Aiden mumbles into my hair.
Eyes closed, I groan.
“No, not that again.” He shakes me, and I grunt again. “It’s way past midday, Julian. The sun’s probably about to set.”
Midday? I can’t remember the last time I slept so late.
I hadn’t even really. I’d been out patrolling before sunrise, then in the market—it was a Saturday, which meant the morning belonged not to me, or to Aiden’s weekend of fun, but to my pack and their concerns.
Would there be just one market space when the packs merged, and if so, where?
Or would they remain separate? And what if everyone grew to prefer one over the other?
The questions carried on well into the morning, and by the time I returned home, I barely fumbled through a shower before collapsing back into bed beside Aiden.
I’d felt him leave a few times to put out his own fires, but he’d crashed back beside me eventually. And now, it’s allegedly nearing sunset.
“Julian,” Aiden huffs, just as I’m about to doze off again. “I’m hungry!”
He wiggles, trying to free himself, but the leg I’ve slung over him keeps my body pillow exactly where he is.
“You can’t keep me hostage like this!”
“But I’m sleeping,” I mumble into his chest.
“But you’re not,” Aiden protests. “You’re speaking right now. We’re literally having a conversation.”
“Semantics.”
“Julian.”
“Fine, be selfish,” I yawn as I roll over, snatching his pillow from under his head to take with me. I hear his appalled gasp while I fluff it.
“You little—” he starts, but I don’t hear the rest of it as I smush my face into the soft treasure covered in his scent.
I’m already drifting off again when I feel him climb off the bed, leaving me to my peaceful sleep. But then hands latch around my ankles. My eyes pop open a second before I’m dragged down the length of the bed.
“Aiden!” I yelp as I try to crawl away, but it’s too late.
He frees my ankles and grabs my waist to haul me over his shoulder.
The world sways and I land against his ass.
“Aiden,” I groan, pushing away, looking up at the bed he’s already walking us away from.
“No!” I wail, slamming my fist against his back. “Stop, you monster!”
Aiden cackles, turning into the hall and cutting off my view of the bed. I slump against him, bouncing with each step.
“What happened to helping me relax?” I groan, my arms hanging limp.
“I did my job too well, I guess,” he replies with a pat to my leg. “You haven’t eaten all day.”
“All we do is eat,” I complain, and he laughs. “I’m not even joking.”
I thought I had a pretty balanced diet before, but I’ve since learnt that I don’t eat nearly enough for a wolf of my rank.
Aiden takes his mealtimes and their portions very seriously.
And as his mate, I’m forced to entertain three full meals a day, no exceptions, which means my fate is already sealed.
I’m resigned to it by the time Aiden sets me down onto one of the kitchen stools.
Still, I glare at him like a sulking child when he beams at me.
“It’s for your own good,” he says with a pat on my head.
I slap his wrist away, relishing his wince. “That was for your own good too.”
“Wicked,” he hisses, backing up, but his eyes stay warm where they linger on me. “What do you want for breakfast?”
I sit up straighter. “Salmon!”
I’d had my doubts about trying fish last night, but Aiden vowed he was a skilled chef when it came to salmon.
I agreed to give it a chance even though I’ve seen him cook, and I wouldn’t call any of that “skilled.” But my mate proved me wrong when he served me a steaming plate of perfectly cooked salmon to go with my sticky rice and aubergine.
It had all but disappeared after my first bite, because I’ve never tasted anything like salmon. Not. A. Single. Thing.
“You can’t have salmon for breakfast,” Aiden states while he opens the pantry doors.
“Why not?” I ask, frowning as he sets out two cereal boxes.
“Because you ate all we had last night,” he gripes, turning in time so I can see his frown. “Did you forget how many times you made me cook more for you? Did you think we had a never-ending supply?”
“Oh …” I say quietly.
“Oh,” he mocks, and I scowl. “You’re having your stupid Lucky Charms.”
“How is this a full meal?” I grumble as he slides the box my way.
“You’re the one who likes that brand, not me,” he says while he showcases his beloved box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. “And if you eat it all, that’s a full meal in my book.”
I glower as he retrieves the milk, pinches the fresh bag open, and jostles the sugary pieces into his bowl.
“Why did you ask what I wanted if I don’t have a choice?”
“I don’t know. It’s stupid to give you options sometimes,” he says with a shrug. “It’s like giving a newborn the remote. I should know better, so really, that one’s on me.”
Aiden peeks up to wink at me, and my finger twitches under the table. He doesn’t see it, but he knows me and can sense my mounting irritation.
His smirk widens, and well, that’s just a little too much.
I wait until he sets his cereal box down before I grab his stacked bowl and throw every crumb of cinnamon in his face.
Eyes snapping shut, Aiden jerks as the cereal smacks into his face, sugar raining down in a glittering drift.
Some lands on his shoulders, but most scatters across the counter.
His fists ball at his sides and his clenched jaw ticks.
I bite my lip to keep quiet, but when he blinks his eyes open, causing sugar to fall from his dusted eyelashes, a slight wheeze slips free.
A familiar thrill rushes through me when his eyes snap to mine, flaring with the anger I was so familiar with before everything changed between us. That look had always coaxed me to push him further, because when Aiden was upset, I was happy—it was the general rule of thumb.
Now, strangely, I’m still happy, but for different reasons. Because while Aiden glares at me like he wants to tear me apart … I almost wish he would.
“And I’m supposed to be the immature one?” he says through clenched teeth.
“Yes,” I reply, resting my face in my hands as I watch him dust cinnamon from his sparkling cheeks. “I’m just meeting you halfway.”
A flash of red flicks through Aiden’s eyes, and I perk up.
He pushes off the counter, rolling his shoulders before pointing a finger at his face. “I’m going to wash my face,” he says with deceptive calm. “Why don’t you try not to waste any more food?”
“I will try my best,” I vow with a smile that grows as I watch him circle the counter.
Humming, I reach for the milk carton, but it turns into a blur as a hand snatches it up before I can. The world slows as I turn. Aiden’s wired black eyes lock on mine before the cold milk gushes over my head.
“Shit!” I yelp, scrambling back, almost tumbling from the stool as I try to escape.
I hiss as I clutch at my shirt, pulling it away from my skin as if that’ll stop the milk from rushing down my back and chest. It doesn’t. The milk soaks through my clothes in seconds.
With my arms raised at my sides, I lift my head slowly and look at Aiden. He’s smiling from ear to ear, dangling the now-empty carton of milk from his fingers while its contents drip off of me.
My jaw clenches, and his canines flash behind his smirk.
We stare at each other, hearts pounding.
“Are we really going to do this?” I ask, pushing the wet hair from my face.
His grin turns wicked. “I’d be disappointed if we didn’t.”
We lunge at the same time, but I’m faster. I shove him with enough force to send him sliding across the spilt milk, then dart for the cupboards. Behind me, I hear him scramble towards the fridge—an arsenal, yes, but it doesn’t have what will undoubtedly be the deadliest weapon in this war.
Flour.
I yank the cupboards open and grab the brand-new bag, along with the bottle of oil sitting beside it.
I hoist myself onto the counter for an aerial advantage before I tear the bag open.
When my eyes settle on the target, I uncap the bottle and throw as much of it as I can at Aiden.
He doesn’t even flinch, too busy digging through the fridge, so he has no warning when I turn the bag of flour over and let it all rain down.
The kitchen vanishes in a cloud of white powder.
“What the fuck?” Aiden wheezes from inside the haze. “Julian, what is wrong with you?!”
Laughing, I try to climb down off the counter, only to slip straight onto my ass. Aiden cackles from inside the flour bomb, but it devolves into sneezing and coughing. I spot dark eyes a moment before I ram into him, shoving him away from the fridge in a desperate plight for more ammunition.
“You psychopath!” he shouts, disappearing into the flour.
I grab the first thing I can from the open fridge doors which, luckily for me, is the crate of eggs Aiden must’ve been digging for.
Ducking behind the counter, I clutch one in my hand, ears straining for any sign of the enemy.
Most of the flour has settled, but there are still wispy traces in the air that make for the perfect camouflage.
My nerves set in as I dare to peek over the counter. There’s no sign of movement.
“Are you scared?” I taunt, jumping around one corner, expecting to find Aiden crouched low. Nothing. I spin around, but he’s not behind me either. He’s nowhere.
“Looking for me?”
I jump with a shout, but before I can run, Aiden grabs the back of my shirt and, in the space of my stretched collar, dumps a lump of something freezing cold. I howl as cold needles stab my spine, and his laugh is pure wickedness.
“Your favourite’s chocolate, right?” he asks before another lump falls on my head. “Enjoy.”
Ice cream slides down my back, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting him pull another ninja act on me. I grab onto his arm, focusing on the mission at hand, and not what’s dripping into my waistband. Shouting, he tries to wiggle free, but I smash an egg straight into his face.