Page 129 of Alpha’s Possession

“I don’t think we even have noodles, but we can check,” he tells me, gripping my ass and hoisting me higher, as he moves inside.

“I can walk. I know I’m heavy."

“Hybrid, and I want to hold you, so shh,” he hisses at me, and I roll my eyes at him.

* * *

There are no two-minute noodles. I am trying to work out measurements for a recipe I found online. It is one of those four ingredient recipes, which is a lie. Since when aren’t condiments an ingredient?

“Are you sure it says to add that much salt?” Leon asks. I look at the recipe again while clutching the spoon and salt over the pot. That glance makes the bag of salt tip and pour into the pot in a heap. I gasp, tossing it aside before dropping my spoon inside the pot.

I am making some strange version of pumpkin soup that I can't pronounce. Why not call it what it is: pumpkin soup. That’s all it seems to contain. It looks nice, though it smells a little funky.

“I can order pizza?” Leon offers as I stir the pot. Man, I would hate to be the one to wash all these dishes.

“I just spent all that time peeling that thing and working over this ridiculous stove, you’re eating it,” I snap at him, becoming flustered as I fish for the spoon, before giving up.

“I’m sure it will be tasty,” Leon lies, and I narrow my eyes at him.

“You know I can feel you right? I can tell you’re lying,” I say to him, pointing a finger at him.

“I will love it because you made it,” he tells me, and I shake my head before turning back to stir.

“Okay, I think I need to put cream in it,” I tell Leon. He hops off the counter to fetch it for me, and I pour in the amount of cream that the recipe asks for. Whatever this is, it does not look like pumpkin soup, and why is it so lumpy?

“Argh, it’s sticking to the bottom,” I tell Leon while using the ladle to try to break up the chunks of pumpkin, only to find the spoon I dropped in earlier.

“Are you sure you aren’t supposed to pour some of the water out?” Leon asks, peering into the pot.

“It’ll do, I’m hungry,” I tell him, retrieving some bowls. I’m about to dish it out as Rhen and Raidon walk into the kitchen.

“Thane is out there, on the verge of tears over being kicked out of his kitchen,” Raidon chuckles before he stops.

“Nope, he will definitely cry when he sees the state of his kitchen,” Rhen says, looking at the mess.

“What are you making?” Raidon asks as I pour the lumpy soup into the bowls. It looks nothing like the picture at all.

I push the bowl toward him, and he smiles awkwardly. “Looks interesting,” Raidon comments, but he accepts it with an awkward smile.

“I should probably take Thane’s out for him. He will die if he sees the kitchen in this state,” Rhen tells me before snatching his bowl off the counter and moving toward the dining room.

“That was quick,” I hear Thane say.

Grabbing a spoon, I scoop up some of my soup. I obliterate every taste bud with that one spoonful. It sprays out like a fountain, coating Leon, who’s leaning against the counter and has yet to take a bite.

“So much salt,” I choke racing to the sink and putting my mouth under the faucet, gulping the water down.

“I’ll order pizza,” Leon winks at me. I grab my bowl, dumping the contents into the sink before wandering to the dining room when I hear the whispers. Popping my head around the corner I see Rhen sniffing his bowl. No fucking way would I eat even another spoonful of that oversalted shit. I should have let Thane cook.

“Eat it. She made it; you’ll eat it. I don’t care if she served you dog food, you’re eating it,” Thane hisses at them. I duck back around the corner, trying to stifle my giggles. Leon raises an eyebrow at me, and he shows me the pizza options.

“Should I tell them you’re ordering Pizza?”

“Nah, let them suffer,” he says, and I elbow him. “Suffer deliciously,” he quickly adds, and I roll my eyes.

“You didn’t try it.”

“Pretty sure I did when you spat it all over me,” he says, placing his phone down after ordering. He helps me clean up the kitchen, my stomach rumbling. Curiosity gets the better of him, and he decides to try some from the pot as I stack the dishwasher. He blanches, and I look at him, watching him swallow down my shame as if he is swallowing a golf ball.