Feral Bonds: Claimed By Rogue Alpha Brothers

Evaline:

The mansion's kitchen was large and bustling, the air warm with heat and spice. Pots clanged, knives chopped against cutting boards, and the staff moved with quick efficiency, all immersed in their rhythm of preparing dinner.

But the instant River stepped in with me trailing behind him, the entire kitchen froze.

It was like someone had pressed pause.

Every pair of eyes darted toward us, then immediately lowered in respect as the air shifted with awareness. The cooks and maids bowed their heads, their movements stilling, even the sound of bubbling broth seemed quieter.

"Alpha," several voices murmured together.

I wasn't used to being the center of attention, but in that moment, I knew it wasn't me they were staring at... it was River, and then, briefly, me. Confusion passed through their faces, but none of them dared to speak it aloud.

"You may all leave," River's voice cut through the silence, low and firm. "Take a break. I'll prepare dinner for my brothers, and…" his gaze flicked to me for a brief second, making my breath catch, "…for Miss Evaline."

The kitchen staff blinked, stunned. I caught the tiny flicker of disbelief in their gazes, some darting quickly toward me before returning to the floor. River cooking? That had to be unheard of. He was their Alpha, not someone who ever had to set foot near stoves and knives.

Still, none of them dared to question him.

"Yes, Alpha," the head chef murmured, bowing slightly.

River added, "Return in an hour to prepare dinner for the rest of the staff."

"Yes, Alpha."

Within moments, the kitchen cleared. The maids and cooks slipped out quietly, leaving behind only the lingering scent of herbs, sizzling oil, and River's presence filling the space.

My palms pressed against the side of my jeans. The silence was heavy now, almost intimate, as if the entire mansion had vanished, leaving just the two of us in this cavernous kitchen.

River moved with the same unhurried confidence he always carried. He slid his suit coat off his broad shoulders, his fingers working the fabric with precise care. For a second, I thought he was going to place it on one of the chairs.

Instead, his eyes lifted... directly to me.

I froze.

Before I could process, he crossed the short distance between us, and in one fluid motion, draped his coat over my shoulders.

My breath hitched.

The fabric was warm, carrying his clean, familiar scent that seemed to seep straight into me. It was overwhelming in the best, most terrifying way.

"Sit," he instructed in a calm voice, as if nothing unusual had just happened. As if lending me his coat was something he had done countless times before.

With my heart hammering in my chest, I obeyed, sliding onto one of the high chairs at the counter. My legs swung slightly from the height, a nervous habit I didn't manage to control.

He turned back to the counter, rolling the sleeves of his crisp white shirt with practiced ease. The fabric stretched against his forearms, and my eyes betrayed me... they stayed glued to the ridges of his veins, the strength beneath his skin.

I swallowed hard.

Then, almost lazily, he loosened his tie, pulling it from his collar and without glancing, handed it toward me.

For a second, I blinked at it, not understanding. Then, hesitantly, I reached out, my fingers brushing the soft silk. It felt like an exchange far too intimate for words.

He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt next, exposing the faint line of his collarbone, the barest glimpse of skin. My cheeks were burning at this point.

It almost felt like he was… teasing me.

Seducing me.

And Moon Goddess help me, it was working.

My eyes refused to leave him. I watched every move as he pulled out pots and pans with sure, confident hands, as if he had spent his whole life in kitchens rather than boardrooms or packhouses. He moved gracefully, slicing vegetables with precision, stirring oils and spices into pans, the air filling quickly with rich aromas that made my stomach tighten with hunger.

He didn't look at me once, but I somehow knew that he was very aware of my gaze burning into him.

The silence wasn't uncomfortable. It was thick with something else, something that made my pulse quicken and my chest tighten.

Minutes slipped by, and twenty minutes later, the kitchen was rich with the scent of seared meat, garlic, onions, herbs blending together. My mouth watered just breathing it in.

Then, his voice broke the quiet.

"Call Oscar and Draven," he said simply, as he dropped diced vegetables into the pan. "Ask how long before they arrive."

"Oh," I blinked, scrambling. "I… I left my phone in my room."

I slid off the chair, ready to dart upstairs. But before I could take more than a step, he finally lifted his head and looked at me.

"Where are you going?"

His voice stopped me mid-motion. I turned, chewing my lip. "To get my phone."

He surprised me again.

Instead of saying anything, he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his phone. With one hand, he extended it toward me. "Use mine."

I froze.

"Uh…" My hand hesitated before taking the device. His phone was sleek, expensive, and heavy in my palm. Something about holding it felt… personal, almost more so than using my own. "It's locked."

"1227," he said smoothly, without hesitation.

My fingers tapped in the digits one by one. 1. 2. 2… and then 7.

The password sounded nothing special at first, but by the time my finger tapped on 7, realization struck me like lightning.

My chest stuttered, breath catching.

December 27th.

The day our mate bond ignited.

I looked up, wide-eyed, only to find him watching me. He wasn't smirking, not really. But there was a shift in his expression, something satisfied, something darkly pleased that I had figured it out. Like he had been waiting for me to notice.

Heat bloomed through me, twisting low in my stomach.

I didn't dare say anything, though the air between us hummed with the unspoken weight of it.

My fingers trembled slightly as I scrolled to the contacts and tapped Draven's name.

The phone rang once, twice, and then connected.

"River?" Draven's familiar voice answered on the other end.

"Uh… it's me," I said softly before I could stop myself.

There was silence. A sharp inhale.

"Eva?" His voice shifted instantly, stunned.

"Yes," I murmured, gripping the phone tighter.

"Why are you calling from River's phone?" He sounded confused, and clearly surprised.

I licked my lips, my gaze darting to River, who was calmly stirring his pan like he wasn't listening to every word. "He… he asked me to. He wants to know how long it'll be before you and Oscar are back at the mansion."

There was another pause. I could almost hear the wheels turning in Draven's head on the other end.

Finally, his voice came through again. "We are already on the way. Ten minutes, maybe less."

I nodded to myself. "Okay… I'll tell him."

I hung up, my heart pounding with River's phone still warm in my hand.

And when I looked up, he was watching me again.