Page 97 of Feral Alphas

My stomach rumbles with hunger and I snicker, digging into my beans and scrambled eggs the second he moves away. When I’m done, I rinse my plate, watching as Luka puts it back in and scrubsit properly when he thinks I’m not looking. I have so much to learn, and today I want to go over the basics. I’ve had enough outings to last for a while.

“Okay, my queen. You need a throne,” Luka says, popping his hands on his hips and surveying the room.

“Indeed,” I play along. “I must be able to see my kingdom.” I giggle at the silliness and clap my hands over my mouth.

He arches one eye. “Indeed, a good view is a must.” He disappears into the half-gutted office and comes back with a beanbag which he plops onto the kitchen table. He pulls a chair out, then goes down on one knee beside it.

“Here, my liege, if you will. The stairs to your throne.”

I pop my hand in his and step up on his thigh, trying not to put weight on it as I move to the chair and then climb up onto the table. I flounce down into the beanbag with a rattle of beans.

“Wait right there,” he orders.

A few wriggles of my bum get the curves settled comfortably around me, and Luka’s back in a minute. “Symbols of your royal person, Queen Rose. Your scepter.” He hands me a fluffy duster. “And your crown.” I laugh as he passes me a colander from under the sink. “And the order of affairs for you to conduct the court with.” He passes me a piece of paper, still warm from the printer.

He reaches for my foot, peppering kisses across my ankle and his touch makes butterflies flock in my belly.

My eyes widen as I catch sight of the long list printed on the page. “You do all this in one day?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, and we’re behind schedule already. Please order the first item.”

I lift the duster with a flourish. “First. Court attire is required.”

His brows lift. “And what is the uniform, my liege?”

“No shirts.” He laughs and strips off his singlet obediently, folding it neatly over the back of a chair. “Better?”

“Yes. Now put on a load of laundry!”

Luka salutes and darts into the bedrooms, bringing out the baskets of clothes from both my room and his before going down the hall to knock on Kye’s door. “Starting the washing if you have any,” he calls.

A cold wind blows in as he goes out through the sliding door to get the machine started.

“What’s going on here?” Kye asks with a laugh as he brings out a linen bag.

Luka lunges in through the door and raises his hand. “Stop! Address Her Majesty with the respect she deserves and pay the tax whenever you pass by.”

Kye shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “What’s the tax?”

I lift my foot imperiously and Luka grins as I declare ankle kisses are the only payment accepted in our kingdom.

Kye happily complies before passing his laundry bag to Luka. Instead of releasing the bag, he asks, “If Rose is queen, what does that make you?”

“The whipping boy, of course.”

Kye smirks. “And what does the whipping boy get every time I crosshispath?”

Both men look at me and giddiness bubbles up inside as I tap my cheek and joke, “Kisses when he’s good, smacks when he’s bad.”

Luka groans as if he likes that idea, and to my surprise Kye darts in to kiss his cheek, shocking us all. “I was only joking!” I cry in case they get upset with me.

Kye bows deeply. “Who am I to disobey the commands of royalty? I’ll finish up my business, and then I, the court musician, shall return to amuse you.”

I blow him a kiss then return to my list, which is a printout from some kind of organizational app. “Refresh the starter. What does that mean?”

“Oh, that’s for the sourdough.” Luka takes a big jar from the bench near the stove and pops it on the island. “We have to feed the yeast with more flour.” He taps a finger against the pale-brown goop dotted with air pockets and grins as I lift my eyebrows in question. “I’ll show you.”

As he works around me, Luka shares how little he knew about keeping a house before he met Colt and how he tried out several different organizational apps until he found one that works. His morning starts with the chores he does every single day, then he moves into ones that cycle through the week and even month.

---