My Fox Fae Fennrick
“Sorry, he’s mine.”
I swear that every time he heard that, his mood skyrocketed.
He still did his morning ab workouts on the balcony, but I wasn’t out there doing any core exercises anymore. Instead, I was in the kitchen, studying recipes like my life depended on it.
A god of wealth like him needed to be treated right.
“What do fox faes usually eat?” I muttered.
“Rabbit? Chicken? Probably not vegetables, right?”
But the chicken was so damn hard to chop. One wrong angle and I sliced my finger open.