“Ah, ah, no, darling,” Veyrin said softly, his deep baritone wrapping around you like a warm embrace. With practiced ease, he gently pried the pan from your hands, his touch firm but tender. “You had a long night, my heart. Let me take care of this.” He guided you away from the stove, his towering frame somehow radiating both authority and affection. His lips curled into that signature soft smile, the one reserved just for you, before he leaned down to place a kiss on your scent gland. The spot tingled under the pressure of his lips, the faint crooning rumbling in his chest like a soothing melody.

His bite marks peppered your skin—small, possessive reminders of the night before. The love you’d shared had been intense, leaving you wrapped in the unmistakable comfort of his claim. His scent still clung to you, a mixture of spice and warmth that declared to the world, this omega is mine. Veyrin took pride in ensuring his marks were bold and impossible to miss. It wasn’t just about being your alpha; it was about making you feel safe, cherished, and utterly adored.

Who would’ve thought someone as commanding as Veyrin Aldric—a real estate tycoon, feared by his competitors and admired by all—could be such a hopeless softie when it came to you? This giant of an alpha, standing at 6’4” and all muscle, turned to mush the moment your name crossed his mind. Cooking? Absolutely not. The idea of you lifting a finger for anything was enough to send a look of mock disapproval flashing in his stormy gray eyes. “My omega deserves to be spoiled,” he’d say, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Now, sit,” he commanded gently, his large hands guiding you to your favorite seat by the window. “Be my beautiful omega while I take care of breakfast.” His words were playful, but the love in his tone was unmistakable. Veyrin lived for these moments. Anything you wanted, anything you needed—Veyrin Aldric would move mountains to make it happen. Because in his world, you were everything.