The Deal

Damien's POV:

 After the long run, I returned to the pack house, took a quick shower, and headed over to my mom's place. The house was quiet, and I knew they had already gone to bed. Using the spare key I always carried, I unlocked the door, careful not to make a sound. Slipping inside, I made my way to my old room, only to find my tiny mate sprawled across my bed. A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. She looked so peaceful, so utterly adorable in her deep sleep.

 If I could, I'd watch her sleep all night, memorizing every delicate feature. But I knew that if she woke up and caught me staring, she'd probably think I was some kind of creep—especially with all the wild thoughts her pretty mind was likely spinning. With a soft sigh, I closed the door as quietly as I could and headed downstairs, passing the door that no one ever opened. It was an unspoken rule in our house, a memorial we all respected.

 Just seeing that door reminded me why I avoided coming here. It was a painful reminder of what I'd lost through my own foolishness, a heartache I preferred to leave buried in the past. But thinking about my mate, asleep in my room, brought a smile back to my face. Soon, the scent of her would linger there too. Call me a creep if you want, but I'd gladly be a creep—for her, and only her.

 With nowhere else to sleep, I opted for the couch instead of heading back to the pack house. Tomorrow, I'll wake up early and cook for my mate. The thought warmed me. It was something I'd always promised myself I'd do when I finally found her, the reason I'd taught myself to cook in the first place—just for the sheer pleasure of making something special for her.

 At the first light of dawn, I woke up and headed straight to the kitchen, passing by the table where all my childhood photos were laid out. I groaned inwardly—Mom must have shown my mate those embarrassing pictures. That woman will be the death of me. How am I supposed to present myself as a macho guy now, after she's seen every awkward moment of my life? Trying to push the thought aside, I grabbed my earphones, plugged them into my phone, and let the music take me to another world as I started cooking for my mom and my mate.

 But then, I felt the weight of someone's gaze on me. Turning around, I was shocked to see my mate standing there, chuckling at my ridiculous dance moves. The surprise made me lose my grip on the egg I was holding, and it slipped out of my hand, crashing to the floor. Well, that was embarrassing. She offered to help, but I quickly refused, insisting that I wanted to cook for her and my mom. For the first time, she gave me a soft smile and took a seat at the counter, watching me as I cooked.

 I couldn't help but steal glances at her, and that's when I noticed she was wearing my favorite outfit from when I was a teenager. Back then, I wasn't much of a fan of jeans, so I usually wore sweatpants and a hoodie. Seeing her in those old clothes made me feel a strange sense of pride, like it was a small victory for me and Midnight. One point for us, huh?

 She caught me glancing at her and looked down at herself, trying to figure out what was so fascinating about her appearance. It didn't take her long to realize that I was probably staring at my clothes that she had borrowed. She apologized for wearing them without asking, but I quickly assured her that I didn't mind at all—in fact, she should keep them since she looked absolutely adorable in them. If I had my way, she'd wear only my clothes, though I kept that thought to myself. It sounded a little crazy, even to me.

 Soon after, my mom woke up and joined us, joking that she'd keep my mate at her place if it meant I'd visit more often. I had stopped visiting as frequently, partly because I was busy, but mostly because of the guilt I carried. I thought the less she saw me, the less she'd be reminded of that painful incident.

 Once the food was ready, I served them both, making a mental note of my mate's preferences. She liked her tea with an absurd amount of sugar and milk—definitely a sweet tooth—and she preferred tea to coffee. Her pancakes were plain, with just a drizzle of sauce.

 As we made small talk, she praised my cooking skills, and both my wolf and I basked in her compliments. But that fleeting moment of pride was quickly crushed by my mom, who, with her usual flair, decided to share some of my most embarrassing cooking mishaps. She eagerly recounted how many times I had begged her to teach me to cook, so that I could impress my future mate. She even brought up the infamous morning when the entire family was jolted awake by the smoke I'd caused while attempting to bake a cake. Apparently, I thought leaving it in the oven longer would make it sweeter. Then there were the countless meals where I either drowned the dish in salt or overloaded it with sugar—until my dad finally banned me from the kitchen for a whole month, claiming I was one step away from poisoning the family.

 My mate couldn't stop laughing, and I was genuinely worried she might choke from how hard she was laughing. But despite the embarrassment, I found myself grinning like an idiot. Her laughter was so mesmerizing, I could listen to it forever—even if it was at my expense.

 Then, with a soft smile, she mentioned that she'd like to meet my dad someday. The atmosphere immediately grew tense, and I feared the painful memories would overwhelm my mom. But she handled it with surprising grace, simply saying that he wasn't somewhere we could reach him but that she was sure he'd be happy knowing his son had found his mate. My mate quickly realized she'd touched on a sensitive topic, but my mom brushed it off with a smile, insisting that she was fine and even joking that she now had someone new to pamper. After all, her "stubborn son"—me—was too proud to let her spoil him.

 Wow, I thought, as I watched my mom effortlessly paint herself as the perfect mother-in-law while making me out to be the ungrateful son. She certainly knew how to make an impression.

 Looking for a way to escape my mom's teasing, I quickly asked my mate if I could show her around and have that talk we needed. She agreed without hesitation, and I could tell she was eager to avoid hurting my mom by revealing her thoughts of rejecting me—especially after my mom had so openly embraced her as part of the family.

 As we got up, my mate offered to help clear the table, and I watched as the two of them chatted and giggled like old friends. Knowing my mom, she was probably sharing more of my embarrassing childhood stories, drawing out those sweet, melodic laughs from my mate. The sound of their shared laughter filled the kitchen, a mixture of warmth and amusement that made it hard to believe how tense things had felt just moments ago.

 When it was time to leave, I kissed my mom on the cheek, thanking her quietly for everything. Then, I gently ushered my mate outside, careful not to touch her. The last thing I wanted was to make her uncomfortable, especially with so much still unsaid between us.

Leslie's POV:

 Ann arrived just as Damien was finishing up in the kitchen. The aroma that filled the air was so mouthwatering, I could barely wait to eat. He carefully plated the food, setting it on a tray before leading us to the dining room. As we sat down to eat, I took my first bite, and it was every bit as delicious as I had hoped. I couldn't help but compliment him, and I noticed how pleased he was—until his mother chimed in.

 "It's a good thing you weren't around when he first started cooking," she said with a playful smile. "He begged me to teach him, but the boy was utterly unteachable," she mused, her eyes gleaming with fond memories of the old days. "There was this one time he nearly burned down my kitchen trying to bake a cake. He later confessed that he thought the longer it baked, the sweeter it would get."

 I couldn't hold back my laughter. The image of a younger Damien, determined yet clueless, was too funny. My ribs ached from how hard I was laughing, but that didn't stop his mother from continuing.

 "And then there were all those times he'd add either way too much sugar or salt to everything he made. We tried to support him, eating whatever he proudly served, until James—my mate and Damien's father—finally put his foot down. He banned Damien from the kitchen, saying he was going to kill us all with his cooking experiments."

 Hearing about Damien's childhood was heartwarming, and I realized I hadn't laughed like that in what felt like forever. His mother had a way of bringing out a joy in me that I hadn't felt in years—a fleeting wish that I had grown up in a family like this, instead of becoming the shell of a person I was now, filled with bitterness and a thirst for vengeance.

 "I wish I could meet James," I said, the words slipping out before I fully grasped their weight. That's when I noticed the sudden change in the atmosphere.

 "Too bad he isn't where we can see him," his mother replied, her voice softening. "But I'm sure he'd be thrilled to know his boy has found his mate."

 Understanding the true meaning behind her words, I silently cursed myself for not realizing it sooner and for bringing down the mood. I stumbled through an apology, but Ann gently brushed it off with a reassuring smile.

 "It's fine, really," she said warmly. "After all, I now have you to pamper. This stubborn son of mine won't let me, just because he's an Alpha," she added with a playful roll of her eyes.

 I chuckled, though a part of me couldn't help but wish that things weren't so complicated. I didn't want her to know that I was planning to reject her son, the thought weighing heavily on my mind. But for now, I was grateful for the lighthearted moment, and silently thanked the Moon Goddess as Damien subtly shifted the conversation.

 Damien suggested that we talk in private while showing me around, as if he had somehow read my mind. As I helped Ann clear the table, she teased me, saying, "You should keep him on his toes. Don't go easy on him."

 "Serves him right for ignoring me all the time," she added with a wink, making me giggle. We laughed together like teenagers gossiping about boys, a lighthearted moment that felt oddly comforting.

 Once we were done, Damien led me outside, careful not to touch me, for which I was grateful. I didn't want his mother to see me flinch at her son's touch. He guided me around the pack, pointing out various landmarks, but I noticed he was avoiding the real reason we were out here. We couldn't dodge the inevitable for long. I gave him a look, and he sighed, understanding exactly what I wanted. I couldn't help but appreciate how in tune he was with me, even without the mind link that most mates shared.

 He led me to a secluded spot in the forest, where a small stream flowed peacefully. Just a short distance away, a small waterfall cascaded gently into a pool below. The area was so serene, so breathtaking, that I couldn't help but whisper, "Beautiful."

 "Yeah," he responded softly, but when I looked at him, I realized he wasn't talking about the scenery. He was looking at me instead, and I felt a strange flutter in my chest.

 "Okay, let's get this over with," I said, turning to face him. "I, Leslie, reject—" But before I could finish, he quickly covered my mouth with his hand. I was too shocked to react immediately, and he pulled his hand away just as quickly, muttering an apology.

 "Sorry, I didn't mean to touch you," he said hurriedly, looking almost panicked, as if afraid I'd lash out at him.

 "Just wait, will you? At least let me have my say," he pleaded, and I nodded, signaling him to continue.

 "Right, uh... I want to offer you a deal. Give me three months to prove that I can be the best mate you'll ever find. If I fail to change your mind, then you can reject me," he said, his voice laced with desperation.

 "Two months," I countered, skeptical.

 "Three," he insisted, his eyes pleading with me.

 "One," I pushed back, watching him panic but remain determined.

 "Three," he repeated, still hopeful.

 "One week," I teased, raising an eyebrow. "Don't you believe in yourself, Alpha?"

 "Okay, fine—one month," he finally relented, and I agreed. But he quickly added a condition. "You can't say no if I want to take you on a date, and I promise I won't touch you without your permission—unless you're in danger. If I break that condition, you're free to leave and reject me anytime."

It was a fair deal, one that I couldn't refuse.