Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 152

Lisa's POV

The clang of pots and the low hum of chatter filled the kitchen when I stepped inside. The smell of herbs and broth clung thick in the air, heavy enough to make my stomach twist with both hunger and curiosity. Calla stood by the counter, her sleeves rolled high, her hair tied back in that effortless knot she always seemed to manage, while two of the younger maids argued over what to cook.

“I’m telling you,” one of them said, arms crossed, chin tilted stubbornly. “Alpha Enzo prefers venison. He always clears his plate when it’s roasted right.”

The other scoffed, tossing her rag onto the counter. “That’s because you drown it in gravy. I say lamb stew. It’s easier, and he eats it without a word. Men like him—strong, busy—they don’t care about delicate flavors. They just want to fill their stomachs.”

“Not Alpha Enzo,” the first shot back, her voice rising. “He’s got taste. He notices. He—”

I cleared my throat softly, stepping closer to the counter. Their argument faltered as both pairs of eyes swung to me.

“Maybe I can help?” I offered, forcing a small smile. “I don’t mind cooking.”

They exchanged glances, surprise flickering between them. Calla’s laugh broke the silence, warm and teasing as she dusted flour off her hands.

“Oh, look at this,” she said, leaning on the counter with a sly grin. “Our lady wants to impress her Alpha through his stomach now.”

Heat rushed up my neck before I could stop it. “That’s not—it’s not like that, Calla. I just thought—since you’re busy—I could lend a hand.”

Her grin widened. “Mhm. Busy. Sure. Or maybe you just want to make sure his meal comes straight from your hands, so when he takes that first bite he thinks, *ah, Lisa made this for me.*”

The maids giggled, suddenly much more interested in me than their argument. My face burned hotter, and I busied myself with tying the apron around my waist, refusing to meet their knowing eyes.

“Anyway,” I muttered, reaching for the vegetables laid out on the counter. “What does he usually prefer? Meat? Stew? Something lighter?”

One of the maids, still smiling faintly, answered, “He likes meat. Strong flavors. But he eats almost everything, as long as it’s well-prepared.”

“See?” Calla said brightly, wagging a finger at me. “Perfect chance for you. Imagine, Lisa, if he tastes your cooking and looks at you with those eyes of his—sharp, dark, like he’s seeing right through you. Tell me you wouldn’t melt right there.”

“Calla!” I hissed, swatting her arm.

She only laughed, dodging away and picking up a knife. “Don’t act so scandalized. It’s written all over your face anyway. Every time his name comes up, your cheeks turn red. Every time he enters a room, your eyes find him before anyone else’s.”

The maids giggled again, nodding as if they’d noticed too. I shook my head quickly, focusing on chopping the onions in front of me. My hands moved fast, maybe a little too fast, because my eyes stung from more than just the onion fumes.

“He’s the Alpha,” I said firmly, though my voice wavered. “It’s only natural that people notice him.”

“Mhm,” Calla hummed, clearly unconvinced. “And it’s only natural you stare at him like he’s the sun and you’re the poor moth burning up just to get close.”

“Calla!” I swore under my breath, feeling my whole body flush.

Her laughter filled the kitchen, bright and merciless. She loved this too much, and no amount of glaring could dim her amusement.

The maids went back to their tasks, still smiling, while I focused on the rhythm of my knife, the neat slices falling against the board. But Calla didn’t let up. She slid closer, nudging me with her elbow.

“You know,” she said softly, almost conspiratorial now, “falling for Enzo isn’t the worst thing. He’s powerful. Loyal. And gods, Lisa, the way he looks at you sometimes—”

I froze, my knife hovering midair. “What do you mean?”

She smirked knowingly, lowering her voice even more. “You haven’t noticed? Of course you haven’t. You’re too busy pretending you’re not in love with him. But the rest of us see it. He watches you, Lisa. Like he’s measuring every breath you take.”

My throat went dry. I forced myself to set the knife down carefully, not trusting my hands.

“You’re imagining things,” I whispered, but even to me, it sounded weak.

Calla arched a brow. “Am I? Tell me then—when you sit at the table, why does he always pass you the dishes first? Why does his voice soften when he speaks to you, even when he’s snapping at everyone else?”

I swallowed hard, unable to answer.

Calla grinned in triumph, reaching for the onions I’d left unfinished. “That’s what I thought.”

I busied myself with the carrots instead, chopping them with more force than necessary, trying to drown out the heat crawling up my neck. My mind betrayed me, conjuring images of his eyes locking with mine across the dining hall, of the small ways his presence seemed to wrap around me tighter than it should.

“Lisa,” Calla sing-songed, pulling me back. “You’re smiling.”

I snapped my head up, horrified, only to realize she was right. Somewhere in the swirl of thoughts, I’d let a small smile tug at my lips.

“I—It’s nothing,” I stammered, turning quickly back to the carrots.

“It’s everything,” she countered, her grin unstoppable.

The kitchen door swung open then, and another maid entered carrying fresh herbs. She set them down, glancing at the scene with mild curiosity before joining the chatter. The noise grew again—pots clattering, knives working, fire roaring under the pots.

But beneath it all, Calla’s teasing lingered in my ears, wrapping around my heart until every beat felt too loud, too obvious.

Maybe she was right. Maybe I had fallen for him—deeply, hopelessly. And maybe everyone else could already see it.