Tristan's POV
I finally finished cooking.
Not that I’d ever admit it out loud, but I’d spent the last hour glaring at the stove like it had personally offended me. Cooking wasn’t exactly my forte—Aitana did everything in the pack house—but I wanted to make something nice for my mate, especially after seeing her exhausted and marked all over, sprawled in our bed.
So I burned my three attempts at cooking—two tasted like s**t, and one wasn't even edible—before I settled on soup.
Soup.
Fucking pathetic.
"I mean... considering you don't know how to do s**t around the house, I'm glad you didn't burn the whole house down," Remiel snickered.
I rolled my eyes. "I know how to cook, but I wanted to surprise her," I countered, bristling at Remiel's smug amusement in my head.
"Sure, sure," h
