EARLY MORNING
A soft golden hue spilled through the tall windows as morning blanketed the island with warmth. The scent of freshly brewed coffee drifted into Maika's room, followed by the sweet fragrance of buttered pancakes and a faint trace of vanilla—again, that scent.
Her eyes fluttered open slowly.
For the first time in a while, she felt… at peace. No screams, no dreams, no whispers of ancient bloodlines or royal duties—just the comfort of something normal.
She slipped out of bed and walked barefoot down the hallway. The soft fabric of her satin robe brushed against her legs as she followed the trail of warmth and aroma.
When she turned the corner and entered the kitchen, her breath caught in her throat.
The scene before her was something out of a dream—no, something far more dangerous.
Carl stood with his back to her, wearing a simple white shirt that clung to his broad frame and a pair of brown silk pants that hugged his form like they were made for sin. An apron was tied carelessly around his waist, the string slightly crooked. His dark hair was messily pushed back, strands falling over his forehead. There was flour on his cheek and concentration in his gaze as he flipped a pancake in the pan.
And next to him, standing on a small wooden stool, was Caveen in a pair of green dinosaur pajamas, tail and all, tongue peeking out as he carefully poured syrup into a tiny ceramic bowl.
They hadn't noticed her yet.
Maika stood frozen at the entrance. Not because she didn't know what to say—but because her heart had started pounding. Loud. Too loud.
It was the first time she'd seen Carl like this—raw, unguarded, domestic. He looked nothing like the intimidating lycan Lord who could command fear with a single glance. Here, in this light, in this setting, he looked like a man. A father. A protector.
Something twisted in her chest. Something warm.
"Lady Maika!"
Caveen's excited little voice jolted her from the haze.
She blinked and forced a smile as the little boy jumped off the stool and rushed toward her with open arms.
"You're awake! Daddy and I are making pancakes! I made the syrup myself!" he declared with pride, tiny hands gripping hers tightly.
Carl turned at the sound, and for a second, their eyes locked.
A silence fell—brief but charged.
Maika's throat tightened as she tried to keep her tone light. "Where… are the maids?"
Carl, wiping his hands with a towel, approached casually but with a glint in his amber eyes. "Back in the city," he said simply, gesturing toward the hallway. "They only come once a week for supply drop-offs. We don't need them here."
Maika tilted her head, confused. "Then who… usually does this?"
Carl glanced at Caveen and ruffled his son's hair, smiling.
"We do. It's our little tradition," he said softly. "Whenever we stay on the island for bonding time, Caveen and I cook breakfast together. No guards, no staff. Just us."
Maika blinked, something fluttering behind her ribcage.
The thought of Carl—Carl the feared Lycan Alpha—cooking breakfast in his apron and flour-streaked cheek while his son giggled beside him in dinosaur pajamas… it wasn't just adorable. It was dangerous.
Because it made her heart ache in a way she didn't understand.
Caveen tugged at her hand again. "Sit with us! Daddy makes the best pancakes! And I made rose tea for you!"
Carl cleared his throat and motioned toward the small dining table on the sunlit patio just beyond the open kitchen doors. "Come join us. You haven't had a real breakfast since you got here."
Maika hesitated—but only for a heartbeat—before nodding and following them.
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MOMENTS LATER
They sat together at the round stone table, the ocean breeze brushing softly against their skin. The plates were warm, the tea fragrant, and the air filled with Caveen's joyful chatter.
Carl served her first, placing a stack of golden-brown pancakes in front of her with a small smile. "Caveen added the blueberries. So if they explode, it's on him."
"Hey!" Caveen huffed with a giggle, puffing his cheeks.
Maika laughed—genuinely, unexpectedly. She hadn't laughed like that in a long time.
As she took a bite, she let her eyes drift between the two of them—the father who watched her when he thought she wasn't looking, and the boy whose scent still held secrets her mind couldn't yet unlock.
And for the first time since she stepped foot on the island… she didn't feel like a prisoner.
She felt like a woman caught in the middle of something beautiful. Dangerous. And maybe… destined.
But she couldn't shake the feeling that none of this was simple. That behind Carl's casual tone and quiet smiles was a secret so heavy, it made the silence between them buzz with tension.
Yet for now, she let herself enjoy it.
The breakfast. The boy. The man.
Even if the storm was coming.