Chapter Seven
JESSE
My mate is lying asleep in my enormous bed, the bed which once felt so cavernously lonely.
The bed is an old, hand-carved thing built from dark oak. It's piled high with blankets and furs, the kind of bedding meant for long winters and colder nights.
The covers are pulled up over her shoulders, the fabric rising and falling with each steady breath.
The fur throw draped across the end of the bed glints faintly in the morning light, silver against deep gray.
I used to think the bed was too big, but now, with her in it, it's exactly the right size.
Sunlight spills across the sheets, painting warm gold over everything it touches. The room smells like pine, smoke, and her—an intoxicating mix that makes the place feel more like home than it ever has.
I set the breakfast tray on the chest at the foot of the bed, careful not to wake her just yet. Watching her sleep, the corners of her mouth curved faintly in dreams, I know I'll do anything to keep her. To protect her.
A soft sound escapes her and she shifts beneath the blankets, burrowing deeper for a moment before her nose wrinkles. I can't help smiling.
The scent of bacon and maple syrup must've reached her.
I didn't know specifically what she liked, but I am determined to make sure that waking up to me is the best thing ever, so I basically made one of everything.
There's a tall stack of pancakes, golden, steaming, edges crisp, glistening with melted butter and a drizzle of maple syrup that's already pooling at the bottom of the plate.
Next to them, thick slices of bacon curl perfectly beside scrambled eggs flecked with herbs from the little garden by the back steps.
A bowl of strawberries and blackberries sits off to one side, plump and bursting with sweetness.
A mug of dark roast coffee, strong enough to wake the dead, and a glass of orange juice catching the sunlight like liquid gold.
Next to the coffee is a little white ceramic jug of heavy cream, and a bowl of sugar lumps.
She sits up, yawns, stretches, and rubs her face with her hands. Her gaze lights on the tray and she smiles. "That smells… dangerously good."
"Dangerous?" I echo with a smile, as I set the tray down on the bed and sit down next to it. "You think I poisoned breakfast?"
She smiles at that. "You'd never poison someone. You'd just shift and shred."
"You already know me too well." And I love that for us. "Did I make you enough food?"
"My God, yes. I don't know how much shifters eat, but this is enough for ten humans."
"Oops." I look down at the tray. I could eat that much, but shifters burn a lot of energy.
Her mouth curves up in a smile. Her hair's a wild halo of curls and tangles, and somehow she looks even more beautiful like that — soft and unguarded, but with that spark of mischief already lighting her gaze.
"No, it's very sweet. I could get used to this," she admits, peering at the tray as I move it closer. "Breakfast in bed, served by a giant wolf-man trying to seduce me into being his forever mate."
"'Trying'?" I repeat, feigning offense as I set the tray across her lap. "If memory serves me correctly, I already succeeded. Again and again."
"Hmm," she murmurs. "We'll see." But there's a small smile as she says it.
I settle on the edge of the mattress, watching her take the first bite. The sunlight glows across her face, and for a heartbeat, I forget about the council, the pack, the trouble that's coming.
"Well, join me!" She gestures at the tray. "I can't eat with you sitting there watching me like that."
So I obey.
And we spend a while sitting there in companionable silence, working our way through the breakfast tray. She eats about ten percent of it, and I finish the rest.
Then she yawns and stretches again. "That was incredible. Thank you. So, what's on your to-do list today?"
My mouth curls into an evil grin.
"What?" she says warily.
"You," I inform her. "You are my to-do list today."