18

Livia POV

This man is rude!

I had officially had enough. I didn't need a soothsayer to tell me that my presence in his room was no longer needed, and frankly, my body was screaming for sleep. 

So, I dramatically bowed my head, turned on my heel, and led myself out of his room. I didn't want a situation that would trigger another episode like last night. Truth be told, I was still a bit shaken by the whole thing. 

What if Alpha Tarian had actually died in my arms? 

He was so large, so impossibly strong, yet surprisingly fragile under the right circumstances. I needed to be extremely careful around here.

The very first thing I did when I finally reached the safety of my own room was tear off that hideous burgundy nightie. I locked the doors behind me—determined to suffer zero interruptions—and was just about to crash into the plush king-sized bed when my phone chimed on the stand.

I froze, easing off a long groan before picking it up to read Livyana’s message:

“Liv, I am so sorry for being insensitive about last night! But the situation demands that you continue to play me in a style and manner that sounds authentic, so it's easy for me to blend back in later. I prepared a list of things I would do as Alpha Tarian’s Luna that you MUST follow.”

I yelped under my breath. A NEW set of rules?! Are you kidding me?!

I scrolled down, reading her bulleted list of demands:

“1. I will be an early riser. If you are planning on sleeping and snoring by this time, I am sorry, but you will have to reconsider. You don't want the Queen Mother thinking you are lazy!”

I glanced at the gold clock on the wall. 

It was barely past six o'clock in the morning! 

I distinctly remembered the Queen Mother specifically telling me to enjoy my life, and now Livyana was trying to force me into waking up on early-mornings?!

But then, on second thought, I really didn't want my first official morning in the Kai-Edwards household to be the kind where I was caught snoring in bed at dawn.

"Oh, Goddess, what do I do?" I muttered, rubbing my aching eyes. "I am so damn tired."

Before I could even process the first rule, Livyana’s second message popped up:

“2. As Luna, I would dress decently at all times. I understand you have a flair for provocative and revealing outfits, but can you please NOT do that while you are there?”

I re-read her message as I pushed open the walk-in closet doors. And goodness... it was pure torture. There were racks after racks of absolute ugliest outfits I had ever laid eyes on. Yes, they were expensive, colorful, royal-grade apparel, but I would rather be caught wearing a pair of handkerchiefs sewn together than be caught dead in most of these.

I could already envision how deeply depressed I was going to be over the next couple of months. Against my better judgment, I decided to try on one of the high-collared pastel dresses and I hated it with passion.

Telling Livyana I hated her wardrobe was as good as useless. I snatched up my phone and typed a reply: “Are there any other rules? You might as well just send me the Ten Commandments.”

Setting my phone down on the vanity, I forced myself through the motions. Thirty minutes was all it took for me to shower, do light makeup, and get fully dressed. I looked at my reflection in the tall mirror and wondered where all the natural spark in my eyes had vanished to. 

I looked a bit older than my age in this dreary ensemble. These dresses deserved to be anywhere else in the world except on my body. Oh, Livia, you have truly suffered.

I pulled my dark hair back into a neat ponytail—exactly how Livyana normally wore hers—and finally stepped out of the room.

My stomach was rumbling, begging for food. Following the distant sounds of clattering pans, I managed to navigate the maze of hallways until I found my way to the kitchen. Standing near the central island was Maris, the head housekeeper, barking firm orders at a group of Omega servants and urging them to be quick on their feet.

Just as I stepped into the room, my phone vibrated in my pocket. Rule number three had arrived:

“3. I would like to take charge of my kitchen, whether I have help or not. Your first task this morning is to make a sumptuous breakfast for my husband! Remember, I am trying to impress him to show him I am a good wife.”

My blood pressure spiked instantly. Sumptuous Breakfast for your husband?!

It was bad enough that the man had tried to force himself on me during his heat, practically kicked me out of his room like a common whore, and now I was expected to slave over a hot stove to impress him?! I felt like screaming through the phone, but I forced my rage down, and plastered a polite, gentle smile on my face.

There were already several large pots of soup boiling on the stove, and I had to admit, it smelled incredible and I hoped it tasted as good as it smells. I liked making my own meals; food was something I never joked with, and I blessed the Moon Goddess daily for giving me a naturally banging body with a snatched waist despite how much I ate. 

Cooking for the Alpha was purely against my will, but I figured doing this small task might ensure he wouldn't go ratting me out to the Queen Mother about last night's chaotic episode.

"Good morning, Maris," I greeted politely, stepping further into the kitchen.

Maris turned around, and her reception was completely off. It was awkward, cold, and downright frosty.

"Good morning, Luna Livyana," she said clippedly, her tone sounding as if we were in the middle of a heated feud, before turning right back around to stir a simmering pot.

I pressed my lips together, trying not to jump to conclusions or read too much into her bitter expression. 

I cleared my throat, stepping up beside the counter.

"What’s for breakfast?" I asked smoothly. "I would actually like to prepare it myself this morning."

Maris immediately reached out, turned off the gas burner with a sharp click, and rinsed her hands under the tap. 

She pulled a cloth table towel off the rack, drying her fingers slowly as she turned to face me dead-on.

"I am sorry, Luna, but this household strictly follows a set timetable," Maris said, her voice devoid of any warmth. "Queen Mother Raychel has given specific orders on who prepares every single meal. If you are interested in cooking, you will have to ask for her explicit permission first."

I blinked, taking a step back. "Excuse me... what? Permission?"

Okay, I was willing to excuse her stoic, chilly attitude at first, but she better be joking right now.

The Luna is suppose to take permission?

Wonders!

"Permission?" I repeated, my eyebrows pulling together. "To prepare my own husband’s food?"

Maris looked me dead in the eyes and bluntly replied, "Yes."

What is with the hostility?! She looked like such a pleasant, sweet person yesterday when the Queen Mother was doing the introduction!

The idea of asking for permission to cook food sounded utterly ridiculous. I tried to imagine the Livyana having to ask for permission to do something as basic as making a meal, and I began to wonder if this was really how she is going to live the rest of her married life—asking for permission to breathe, to bathe, or to visit her own family. This better be a rule meant strictly for the kitchen staff and not the Luna,

I cleared my throat, forcing a small, nonchalant smile onto my face. "Right. Well, then."

I turned and walked out of the kitchen. Truth be told, I hated cooking almost as much as I loved eating, so if I didn't have to touch a stove, I was more than happy to go get busy doing something else.

As I walked down the 

 corridor, my phone gave a sharp beep.

“4. As Luna, I would like to—”

Livyana’s fourth rule popped up on the screen, the three little dots flashing below it as she continued typing out her endless list.