Serve Me Cake, Set Me Free
On my fifteenth birthday, I begged my mom to teach me how to make a cream cake from scratch.
We only had cream at home. No flour. So we went out to buy some.
When we came back, we didn't walk into a birthday surprise.
We walked in on my father pressing a strange she-wolf down onto the dining table.
Cream was smeared all over her bare body.
That night ended with my parents signing the Mating Dissolution Agreement.
From that day on, cake became my nightmare, a taboo I could never touch.
The night I mated with Alpha Kaelen of the Shadow Pack, amidst the pain and pleasure of his marking bite, I whispered in his ear.
"Honey, if you ever want to end our mating, just bring me a cake."
He frowned, his eyes burning with possessiveness, and kissed the words away.
"Don't talk nonsense, Seraphina. You are my fated mate. How could I ever let you go?"
Later, on his birthday, his intern secretary Elena ordered a three-tier luxury cake.
Kaelen went into a rage, throwing both the cake and the intern out the front door.
Back then, I was moved, even telling him not to be so harsh on a low-ranking wolf for my sake.
But six months later, Elena had been promoted to Kaelen's personal assistant.
On my birthday, she walked into my laboratory, swinging her hips, holding a burnt, homemade cake.
I called Kaelen, asking him to remove the provocative item.
On the other end of the line,his tone was casual.
"Elena put her heart into making that for you. It would be cruel to throw it away. Be a good girl, don't be so sensitive. Have the grace of a Luna."
The phone slipped from my hand.
It turned out my mother wasn't wrong.
Cake really is best served with a side of rejection papers.