Chapter 0091

"Son? What brings you here?" Alistair's voice cuts through the moment like a knife.

I instinctively step in front of Adrian, shielding him. Whether I'm protecting him or bracing for Alistair's reaction, I don't know. But this was my idea, so I'll face the consequences.

"Alpha Alistair. I invited Adrian to dinner tonight. I know this is your time with my father. If you'd prefer Adrian not to be here, we'll leave and let you two have your evening."

His eyebrow arches. "You and Adrian will leave?"

"That's right." I feel Adrian trying to move around me, but I subtly shift to keep him behind me. Alistair's gaze flickers between us, assessing.

"Alistair," my father calls, wheeling closer. "Haven't you learned your lesson about challenging Guardians yet?"

Alistair studies me for another heartbeat before his lips curve into a smirk. "You're right, Grant. One encounter with your fierce little warrior was enough for me." He turns and follows my father outside to the grill.

I exhale and face Adrian. "Well, come on in."

As he passes me, his lips brush my cheek again, sending heat rushing to my face.

In the kitchen, I gesture upstairs. "Be right back. Need to grab a vase." He takes the flowers while I dash up to my room, retrieving the vase holding the wilted roses from our first date.

When I return, Adrian is studying our living space with quiet intensity.

"Cozy," he murmurs as I reach the bottom step. "Feels like a real home. I like it."

I pause, seeing our house through his eyes for the first time. The worn leather couch where Dad reads. The photos lining the stairwell. The faint scent of pine and leather that always lingers.

"Yeah," I say softly. "I guess it is."

His gaze drops to the dead roses in my hands. "You kept them?"

"Couldn't throw them away." My fingers tighten around the vase.

Adrian takes it from me, handing me the fresh bouquet. "I'll replace them whenever you want. Where's your trash?"

I point to the bin. He disposes of the old flowers with care, rinsing the vase at the sink before filling it with fresh water. His hands are sure as he arranges the new blooms.

"Dining table for now?" he asks.

I nod. "I'll move them to my room later."

He sets the vase down with a satisfied smile. "Now, what's for dinner? Something smells incredible."

"Steak. It's a Thursday tradition with our dads."

"But that's not what I'm smelling."

"Lobster mac and cheese," I admit. "Hope you like it."

Adrian closes the distance between us in two strides. His hands settle on my hips, drawing me close. "You made me lobster mac and cheese?"

"It's for everyone," I stammer, my palms flattening against his chest. The heat of him seeps through our clothes. His muscles tense under my touch, and suddenly I'm imagining tracing every ridge down to his beltline.

His scent envelops me - crisp pine and rich chocolate, the same comforting aroma from when he rescued me. Our house may feel like home, but Adrian smells like safety. Like coming back to where you belong after the longest day. Like everything you never knew you needed.