Beneath the Alpha's Moon

LUCIAN’S P.O.V.

The next morning, I woke up feeling like someone had replaced my usual grumpy mood with an even grumpier version. The worst part? My room felt painfully empty. Teresa and my babies weren’t here. She’d insisted on sleeping alone last night, and since I didn’t have a good enough excuse to keep her with me, I had no choice but to let her go. Ares wasn’t exactly thrilled either.

"Coward. You should’ve fought harder."

"What do you want me to do? Tie her up?" I shot back at him mentally, rolling my eyes. Ares, of course, just growled, his version of sulking.

I got up, tugging on a shirt I didn’t bother matching with anything, and sniffed the air. Something... divine floated to me. It smelled warm and inviting—like pancakes or maybe waffles. My stomach growled, and I sighed. At least one thing was looking up this morning.

Ares perked up. "Follow it. You’re pathetic, but at least you can eat."

With no sight to guide me, I let Ares lead. I took careful steps down the hall, following the smell like a blind bloodhound. The scent grew stronger until it stopped at what I guessed was the kitchen. I pushed the door open, and my senses flared.

The sound of a spatula scraping a pan and a faint, melodic hum confirmed it. Adrian. Of all people—or rather, vampires—I hadn’t pegged him as the cooking type.

"Adrian," I called, narrowing my eyes instinctively even though I couldn’t see him.

The smooth, measured voice I’d come to associate with the infuriatingly charming vampire responded. "Good morning, Lucian. Hungry, I assume?"

I stepped closer, sniffing. "What... are you doing?"