Marked Twice by the Alpha King Chapter 147

The word stirred something in my heart. Since leaving the Rivers house, I hadn't truly called any place home.

The bathroom was more luxurious than I'd imagined, with a massive jacuzzi tub occupying the central position, surrounded by carefully carved stonework bearing Silverpeak's moon totems. I filled it with hot water, adding some herbal bath salts from the shelf—they smelled of moonflower and silver pine, two plants with particular healing properties for werewolves.

As I sank into the water, a satisfied sigh escaped my lips. The hot water enveloped my tired muscles, the salts' medicinal properties immediately penetrating my skin, repairing the damage received at Hayes territory and the sweet soreness from last night.

This was worlds apart from the basic communal bathroom at Hayes territory. There, the water was always lukewarm, the soap rough as sandpaper, and privacy practically nonexistent. Bathing there felt more like a battle than relaxation.

I closed my eyes, letting my thoughts drift with the rippling water. I'd never experienced such a transformation—from prisoner of one pack to the Alpha King's... what? Lover? Mate? None of these words accurately described the complex relationship between Blake and me.

When the water began to cool, I reluctantly rose. My reflection in the mirror stopped me in my tracks—on my neck, Blake's gold mark had almost completely covered Jackson's silver imprint. Only the edges retained a silver glow, and even that was rapidly fading.

I reached up to touch the mark, feeling it pulse beneath my fingertips. Once upon a time, I viewed Jackson's mark as a constraint, as betrayal; yet Blake's mark, though equally possessive, gave me a strange sense of security. Perhaps the difference wasn't in the marks themselves, but in the men who gave them.

The kitchen was filled with the aroma of fresh bread and coffee, much later than my usual waking time, but someone had clearly anticipated this.

"Good morning, Miss Rivers," a tall man straightened up from the oven, holding a tray of freshly baked muffins. "Or should I say, good afternoon?" His eyes sparkled with friendly teasing.

"Just Ava is fine," I responded with slight embarrassment, realizing it was indeed almost noon. "And you are...?"

"Daniel," he introduced himself, placing the muffins on the counter. "Head chef of this little paradise. Fancy title, but I'm basically the guy who keeps everyone fed."

I studied him—about thirty-something, handsome but not flashy, with small crinkles around his eyes when he smiled. He carried an easygoing aura, completely different from the tense servants at Hayes territory.

"Nice to meet you, Daniel," I sat at the counter, taking a muffin. The first bite made me utter a sound of satisfaction—crisp outside, soft inside, with perfectly tangy blueberries. "This is... wow, amazing."

"I'm honored to receive praise from a warrior," he smiled, turning to attend to something on the stove. "Alpha King mentioned you might be hungry, especially after..." he cleared his throat, obviously choosing his words carefully, "um, a long night."

My cheeks instantly heated as I realized the entire staff knew what had happened between Blake and me. But Daniel's tone lacked any hint of impertinence or disrespect; he was simply stating a widely known fact.

"Speaking of which," he continued, sliding a steaming cup of coffee toward me, "Ruth mentioned you haven't told us your favorite foods yet. As a professional chef, that's practically torture."

I laughed, amused by his exaggerated expression. "Honestly, that time at Hayes territory made me forget what being picky even means. The food there..." I wrinkled my nose, remembering those bland, barely-food rations.

Daniel's expression turned serious. "Heard about the situation there," he said quietly. "Those bastards." He suddenly realized his word choice, "Sorry, I shouldn't talk about them like that."

"No, you're right," I shrugged, sipping my coffee. "They are bastards."

This triggered his laughter, a sound as refreshing as a mountain spring. "You know, most new guests stay uptight for days. You're different."

"Is this your permanent residence?" I changed the subject, not wanting to discuss the Hayes family further.

"Yes," he nodded, flipping something in a skillet—smelling like vanilla-infused eggs. "All staff live in the north wing. Conditions are quite nice—private suites, full kitchen privileges, excellent pay, and a complete vacation system."

I raised an eyebrow, noting how different this was from how the Hayes family treated their servants. "Blake... treats you all well?"

He paused his work, looking at me seriously. "Not just 'well,' Miss Rivers—sorry, Ava. The Alpha King's treatment of staff is legendary throughout the werewolf world. Nobody's treated as a servant, but as part of the pack." He paused momentarily, "I used to work for another pack's Alpha, and the difference is like heaven and hell."

I nodded, my admiration for Blake growing another notch. Power typically corrupts, making those in charge forget compassion for the vulnerable, but he seemed to be an exception.

"What's your favorite food?" Daniel suddenly changed topics, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Don't give me that noncommittal 'anything is fine' answer. Everyone has a favorite food, even the toughest warriors."

His enthusiasm made me smile. "Well, if you must know... I have a secret weakness for apple pie with a flaky crust and soft filling, preferably with a scoop of vanilla ice cream." This little secret was known only to Sarah and Ella, but sharing it now felt unexpectedly comfortable.

Daniel's eyes lit up as if I'd just revealed the mysteries of the universe. "Apple pie," he nodded solemnly, as if recording a state secret. "Tomorrow after dinner, you'll taste the best apple pie you've ever had in your life, I guarantee it."

I laughed out loud, infected by his enthusiasm. "I'll hold you to that."

During the meal, I noticed Daniel's interactions with other staff members—witty but never crossing boundaries, friendly yet professional. Especially with a young female assistant, his smile seemed warmer, and she blushed slightly each time she caught his gaze. It seemed the head chef was skilled not only at combining ingredients but also at the art of flirtation.

The breakfast—or lunch, technically—revived me completely.

As I stood to leave, Daniel called after me, "The trails behind the house are gorgeous this time of year. If you're looking to explore, there's a map in the mudroom."

I smiled gratefully. "Thanks for the tip. And the incredible food."

He waved dismissively. "Just doing my job. Though fair warning—once Ruth finds out you're up and about, she'll want to give you the full tour. That woman knows every inch of this property better than anyone."

"I'll keep that in mind," I laughed, already looking forward to it.