Page 29 of Ruthless Alpha Beast
I will choose later.
When I don’t respond, he concedes and heads upstairs to grab something to cover himself up.
Once he’s back downstairs, an awkward silence settles upon us. I half expected him to say some snarky comment like ‘better for you?’ Or ‘Happy now?’
But he doesn’t.
I hear him pulling more things out from the fridge, setting the fire on the stove, and jostling about the pots and pans.
From the corner of my eye, I notice the shirt he has on; it's blue, tight—honestly, not even covering much.
But to distract myself, I walk around the connecting sitting room, pretending to be curious—and then I notice he has some books.
I trace my fingers along their edges. Let’s be clear, he doesn’t have many, there are probably about five? But still, more than I thought.
Three of the books are on Alphaship, pack politics, and method of rule (yawn). One is a book on the history of wolf dentistry—what?
Another isThe Art of War. I know that one. Of all the human books he could have,of course,he has that one.
So this book collection couldn’t actually be any more boring, but hey, something to pretend to keep myself busy with at least.
Following the sound of spitting, crackling oil comes a smell my stomach can’t ignore. Bacon. Garlic. Butter.
All the things I wouldn’t usually make for myself. Well, I’d use garlic, but for pasta, not for breakfast.
“It’s ready,” he says, and I respond ‘okay’ but only in my head.
I’m bracing myself for battle.
I hate how nervous this all makes me feel. So nervous that I almost don’t want to eat.
Almost, because it does actually smell good.
Jasper instructs me to help myself, and so we tiptoe around one another, filling our plates with eggs, bacon, sausage, and bread.
I’ll give it to him; it looks decent.
“Juice?” He asks me, once we’re sat down.
“Sure,” I nod. “Thanks.”
I hold out my cup and watch the way his veins wrap around the underside of his bicep as he pours. Maybe I’ll start requesting he wear a tunic—I’m sure he’ll love that.
“How is it?” He asks between shovels.
I swallow down some juice. “I haven't tried it yet.”
“Well, try it.”
“I am.”
I cut up the egg, and the yolk spills out with the perfect consistency. I take a forkful along with a piece of bacon and bread.
When the flavors hit my mouth, I feel like swooning.
Wow.
“So?”
