Damn soufflés. His guest had been in the pride house for over fifteen minutes and he hadn't even said hi yet, but he knew without any doubt that the moment he glanced away from the oven, they'd all deflate. Soufflé was food of the gods, and Ian had reason to suspect that a jealous divinity had cursed the dish to make it near impossible to bake right for mortals.

"Starters in five!" he called out loud. 

It needed another ten minutes in the oven, actually, but soufflés needed to be served immediately, and damn if he was letting the pride ruin all his efforts by turning up late. 

"Sweet," said Jas, mixing a large jug of virgin apple mojito on the breakfast bar for the kids. "Whatever you're making in that oven smells divine. Christine is going to be pissed she's in Texas when I tell her you went all out."

Ian grimaced. She would be pissed, and she'd also demand a redo. He'd spent the last hour in the kitchen, and it'd take him another half hour to finish all the dishes.

"Any chance you don't tell her?"

Jas snorted. "Yeah, right. You know half the pride will take pictures and post it on social media. Your fans always go crazy when you cook."

He sighed, slicing apples a millimeter thin.

"What's that for?" Jas asked, peeking at his counter.

"You'll see."

He'd said that every time she'd asked over the last hour. Patience wasn't her forte.

He was placing two dozen slices under a heat lamp when he felt her presence right behind them. He smiled, turning around as Tania entered the open space that was divided in three sizable areas; the living room, dining room, and kitchen.

The moment he saw her, his smile disappeared. Not only because she was obviously worried. He noted a shade on her left cheek that hadn't been there the previous morning. A very faint bruise.

Ian strode right to her, lifting his hand to her chin, gently tilting it.

Tania blushed and he sighed. "Your father," he guessed.

She crossed her arms. "That's none of your business."

She was right on that account, and it pissed him off.

"I'm glad you left. Come, take a seat."

He gestured toward the long oval dining table that comfortably sat twenty; they always had room for at least a couple of guests, and if it wasn't enough, there were occasional tables they could add. Fairly typical in a pride house.

"Are there specific places?"

"Wherever you find room," said Daunte, walking in and wrapping his arm around her neck like they were long lost acquaintances. "Hey, newbie. I'm Daunte Cross, beta. Thanks for taking care of the smelly mutt."

Tania chuckled. "You're welcome, I guess? Where is he, by the way?"

Jas laughed. "Sulking upstairs with the kids. He's feeling very sorry for himself since his snip. I'm Jas. Do you want a drink? I'm making cocktails." 

"I don't drink, thanks." 

Jas pointed to the pitcher with mint and ice. "Non-alcoholic apple mojitos for the kids and whoever's on patrol duty."

"That'd be great."

The dining room filled up; everyone introduced themselves pleasantly. Ian attempted to relax, returning to the kitchen, but his mind remained on her cheek. If she'd left the previous day and there still was a mark he could see, it hadn't been a little tap—not that that would have been any better. She'd been hit pretty hard. The silicone spoon in his grasp bent as his fist curled around it.

Shit.

A glance at the oven, and he announced, "Food's ready now. If you're not in your seat, Daunte'll eat your portion."

Daunte grinned, but all around the house, there were heavy, fast-paced steps, and by the time Ian came in with four ceramic ramequins balanced on his hand, wrist and arm, everyone was seated, except for the four enforcers on duty, Theo, Ari, Ava, and Coveney.

"Holy shit, this smells amazing," Daunte drooled when he placed a starter in front of him.

"Language!" said Ace. "Thank you, Ian."

He returned with a further four.

"Can I help?" Tania offered.

Clari snorted. "Ian doesn't trust us with his precious food. Not that anyone's complaining. He cooks and serves, we tidy up. That's the deal."

"Your mate dropped a whole bowl of chili once. We ate it in our animal form so it wouldn't go to waste. Never again."

Eating as felines was just as satisfying as eating in their human form, but the animals didn't truly appreciate food—especially when it was cooked. They favored fresh kills.

He finished serving and went to take a seat. The pride had kept a free place at Tania's left.

"All right, dig in."

No one talked for a while, devouring their soufflés. The gods had been lenient, and they were perfect: light and airy, smooth and delicious.

"Holy shit, Summers!" Luke drawled. "Someone tell me why you don't cook every night."

"I'd also like to know," Rye grumbled. "It's been a whole decade since you've made this."

Ian shrugged. "Too much effort. Slim chance of success. I only tried because we have three courses, so if I'd messed it up, we would have skipped the starter."

"Three courses," Rain repeated dreamily. Then she pointed her fork towards Tania. "You need to visit more often."

Tania laughed, asking, "You don't usually cook like this?"

Ian shrugged.

"His food is always ridiculously tasty," Daunte explained. "But yeah, he typically makes one big dish that takes him as little effort as possible."

"I don't really enjoy cooking," Ian said.

"Really?" Tania asked. "It's pretty rare to be that good at something you don't like doing."

Ian hesitated. Some among the pride knew that story; they'd been there when it had happened, years ago, in the royal pride. He hadn't really spelled it out and no one discussed it.

"My dad was an enforcer in our original pride. Busy life, for a single parent, but he could have gotten help; in a pride, you need some assistance, you ask for it. Instead, he made my cousin and I keep house for him, clean, cook, laundry. It wasn't a big deal. Then he was hurt in a raid and lost a leg. From that point, he stayed home. We still had to do everything, but he also abused us verbally at every opportunity. It wasn't a good time. Learning to cook with my nonna was actually fun, but most of my memories in the kitchen have to do with someone telling me what a piece of shit I am, and so on."

The table was silent for a beat. Then Daunted chuckled. "Way to ruin the mood, dude. But I get it now." On that note, Daunte got up. "Come on, then. Everyone's done. Let's get going." 

Ian tilted his head.

"You, stupid dude, aren't locking yourself in the kitchen by yourself anymore. Consider me your sous-chef, or whatever. You're stuck with me."

Ian grunted. "I don't need your help."

"‘Course you don't. You got it anyway."

The beta had made his mind up. Begrudgingly, Ian returned to the kitchen with him and gave him the most menial tasks as he finalized the entrees.

To his surprise, he didn't exactly hate it.