Page 158 of Pack Scratch Fever
She needs to eat to get her strength back, anyway.
I rummage through the fridge and roll my eyes when I see the homemade cat food slop in a glass container.
Poe went from calling cats pests to adopting the most insufferable one, and now he’smakingcat food.
What a weirdo.
I raid the fridge, wondering what I should make for my Omega.
During Piper’s Heat, we kept our kitchen stocked with every ingredient imaginable, and we still have a ton of food leftover.
But I want to do something special for her. Something more than just cooking.
Any Alpha can cook for their Omega.
But we have the ingredients for something I rarely make, something that’s special to me and brings up the best memories of my childhood.
I’m so lost in the process that I don’t even realize Piper has entered the kitchen until I recognize the sweet aroma of her scent.
“What are you doing up?” She yawns, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She’s in grey cotton shorts and an oversized shirt, her hair half pulled back in a messy bun.
She’s breathtaking as always.
“Hey gorgeous,” I purr.
She eyes the oven. “That smells amazing,” she says. “What are you making?”
I shrug. “It’s an apple cake,” I reply.
“An applecake? I didn’t know you baked.” She sits on the barstool facing the marble island.
“I don’t. My mother used to make it for the holidays, and it’s my favorite recipe. I figured I’d share it with you.”
Her eyes soften. “Maddox,” she murmurs. “You don’t have to do that.”
I smirk and lean against the counter, crossing my arms. “That’s your favorite phrase, huh? I’m pretty sure you’ve said, ‘You don’t have to do that’ at least a hundred times in these past days.”
“Well, you don’t,” she argues.
My stubborn, independent Omega.
“It’s not abouthavingto do it, baby. It makes me fucking happy to do these things for you.”
She looks amused. “How happy?”
“Fuckinghappy, baby.”
She gives me a small secret smile. “Yeah. It makes me fucking happy too, I guess.”
I check the oven, and I feel her eyes on me while I take the cake out.
“I could eat that whole damn thing,” Piper admits. “My appetite is starting to come back, and I’m ravenous.”
“Good. I’ll make you ten more, if you want.”
“You do that, I’ll be as big as Mister Whiskers,” Piper says, and I laugh.
“More of you to love, sweetheart,” I add, turning to face her.
