Kapitel 11

Faelyn moved with hasty excitement through the sunlit kitchen, her short light-brown wavy hair bouncing with every hurried step as she rummaged through the open drawers and cabinets, gathering the cutters, trays, and every tool she needed with quick, precise fingers. The marble countertops gleamed like polished glass under the morning light, scattered with the remnants of last night’s ingredients and the faint, lingering aroma of spices that had already begun to fill the air.

Vesper watched her from the island, arms crossed over her chest, body language relaxed, her dark brown eyes curved in amusement as Faelyn pulled a heavy package of frozen elk haunch from the fridge. The meat still encased in thick cold plastic, its weight pulling at the pack.

“You want to make something with elk haunch?” Vesper asked, her hips shifting slightly to the side, one shoulder dipping as she casually leaned against the marble. She tilted her head, her dark brown eyes carrying a quiet sparkle, while the faint curve of her lips hinted at playful disbelief.

“Yeah. Winter Cauldron,” Faelyn said without looking up, already dropping the heavy haunch onto the kitchen slab. She focused entirely on peeling the packaging away, fingers working with care as the plastic crinkled loudly in the room.

“Master Draven never eats breakfast,” Faelyn explained, finally lifting her head from the elk haunch. She brushed a loose strand of wavy hair behind her ear with the back of her wrist before resting both hands on the countertop, a small, matter-of-fact smile settling on her face. “It's usually just Maryanne and me in the mornings.”

Her shoulders rose in a tiny shrug, as though she had long since grown used to his unpredictable routine. “He's home for dinner most of the time... but we never really know when he'll walk through the door.” She glanced toward the hallway for a brief moment before looking back at Vesper. “We always make sure there's something ready for him anyway.”

A hint of pride slipped into her voice as she continued, “And we cook for his men too. There are always at least five guards on every shift, and none ever leaves this house hungry.”

“Do they live here as well?” Vesper asked, out of genuine curiosity, her head tilting a fraction as she studied Faelyn’s face.

Faelyn wiped her hands on a nearby kitchen towel and nodded. “There's another extension behind the penthouse,” she explained, gesturing vaguely toward the rear of the residence. “Master Draven calls it an office, but it's much more than that. It's like a fully furnished private apartment with offices, meeting rooms, a gym, and bedrooms.” Her smile widened as she looked around the enormous kitchen.

“Most of his men stay there while they're on duty, but they don't have to. If they want to, they can live there full-time or just rest between shifts.” She gave a small shrug before adding, “This place is far bigger than it looks from the outside. Honestly... calling it a penthouse doesn't really do it justice.” A soft laugh escaped her lips as her eyes swept across the soaring ceilings and elegant interior. “It's basically a mansion.”

“Hmm,” Vesper hummed, the sound low and thoughtful, she watched the way Faelyn’s fingers lingered on the meat.

Just then the older Omega from the night before stepped into the kitchen, the subtle sweetness of vanilla lingering softly in the air as she entered. Her gray hair was pulled into a neat bun. A small smile played on her lips.

Faelyn gave a small bow, her shoulders straightening with respect. “Good morning, Maryanne.”

“Good morning,” Maryanne replied, her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes with warmth as she turned her head to regard Vesper directly. “It’s good to see you are looking better today.” Her voice carried a note of concern, as her hands clasped softly in front of her.

Vesper offered a small nod, her head tilted forward in a soft greeting, “Yes, thank you.”

“I was requested to give you these,” Maryanne said gently.

Only then did Vesper notice the large designer bag in Maryanne's hands. She froze. Her pulse skipped before racing wildly against her ribs. Could it really be...? Her eyes never left the bag. There was only one person she wanted it to be from. Only one person who mattered enough to make her heart react like this. Draven... was it him?

She looked up at Maryanne before carefully taking the bag, her fingers brushing against the soft, luxurious material. "Are they from Draven?"

Maryanne smiled, the corners of her eyes creasing gently as she watched Vesper. "Yes, they are from Master Draven. I'm just as surprised as you, young wolf. You must mean something to him."

Vesper's lips curved faintly as her fingers tightened around the bag. Something was never going to be enough. A gift, a glance, or a moment of his attention would never satisfy the growing hunger inside her. She would not stop until she became Draven's first thought every morning, his last thought every night, and her presence became as inevitable as his next breath.

“I hope so,” she murmured, voice low and gentle, a perfect contrast to the storm raging inside her.

Faelyn’s voice suddenly cut through, sharp with excitement. “I was going to teach Vesper how to make Winter Cauldron. Because maybe they could be mates soon.”

Maryanne’s eyes widened in shock, her head snapping toward Faelyn. “Faelyn, don’t say things like that. Such matters don’t concern you.”

Faelyn huffed and pouted slightly, arms crossing over her chest, her eyes flashing with defiance. “He did buy her clothes.”

Maryanne simply smiled and shook her head before walking toward the concealed spice cabinet hidden behind the pantry wall. As she slid it open, rows of gleaming glass jars and artisan ceramic canisters came into view, each meticulously arranged and labeled in elegant calligraphy.

Vesper's fingers twitched around the bag. Every instinct begged her to open it. Her wolf stirred with possessive satisfaction, lingering on the thought that every piece inside had been chosen by Draven's hands. The anticipation coiled tighter inside her, until waiting itself began to feel unbearable.

She couldn't wait any longer. It had to be now. "I'm going to take a shower," she murmured, already walking toward her bedroom. The bag remained clutched tightly against her body as need consumed her, drowning out every other thought.

“Hurry back, you’re the chef!” Faelyn called after her, a teasing smile evident in her voice.