Page 140 of The Wolf King's Mate

I reached out mentally to my Alpha anyway, to make sure Fletch wouldn’t have to wait long.“Hey, I’m back in our room. I think Fletcher is waiting outside.”

“On my way.”

“I can meet you wherever you are, if you want.”

“My brothers and I were just talking about possibilities. I’m headed to you now.”

The door opened. Enzo said something to Fletcher, and it closed again. He stepped up to me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Clay wants to do a birthday thing for you and Fletcher in a few hours. He says it’s because you’re a part of the family now, but he just loves cake.”

“Who doesn’t?”

Enzo’s lips curved upward, and he kissed me. Lightly. Gently. It was the first time he had really, truly kissed me for a reason that wasn’t just sexual.

It ended too soon, though.

“I need to make you a cake,” Enzo said, kissing my nose.

I wrinkled it. “You don’tneedto do anything for me.”

“I want to make you a cake, and I’m going to,” he corrected.

“I have to make Fletcher’s cake, actually. He always makes mine. We do a cake swap.”

His forehead creased. “Why not just agree on one you’ll both like?”

It seemed safe to assume he did that with his brothers. Or maybe they usually bought cake.

Actually, scratch that. Enzo rarely ate things other people made. Something told me cake wasn’t an exception.

I shrugged. “It’s a thing we do. He likes fluffy, strawberry cake. I like rich, chocolate cake. We make them for each other, then trade and eat them together.”

“That’s… sweet,” he finally said.

“It’s cake, so yes. It’s always sweet.”

He snorted, and I couldn’t bite back a grin. Making the angry Alpha laugh, or anything close to that, always felt like a victory.

twenty-three

ASPEN

Enzo satme on the countertop and refused to let me help as we started the cake. When I told him I needed a job, he assigned me to turn the stand mixer on and off for him.

Like I was four years old.

I rolled my eyes, but I knew taking care of me made him feel good, so I just turned the mixer on and off at his directions.

His hand rested on my thigh while we creamed the butter and sugar, and I studied him.

He lifted his gaze to mine for a beat, and I held it.

“What do you guys do for your birthday?” I asked.

“Not much. Clay asks what kind of cake we want a few days before. We all agree on either red velvet orFunfetti, depending on the year. I always make it, either on the day of or shortly after, depending on if I’m hunting a rogue or not. We eat it together when it’s done. If Clay’s feeling festive, he forces us to play card games or board games. Monopoly isn’t allowed.”

My smile grew, slightly. “Monopoly always causes fights.”

“Every time.”

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