A Mate To Three Alpha Heirs Chapter 165: The Perfect Moment

{Elira}

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For a mont, silence settled among us until Rennon broke it, softly adjusting his tone as if to soothe .

"Don’t worry, Elira. You will have the bedroom and we can take the parlour."

But Lennon barked a laugh, throwing an arm around Rennon’s shoulder. "Why does it have to be like that? She is our mate, not a guest we are babysitting. It’s not like we are going to touch her."

Then his grin turned sly. "Unless she asks."

My jaw dropped. "Lennon!" How shaless of him to say that. What does he take for?

Rennon shoved his arm off with a glare, but it was Zenon who cut the mont short. He stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as they pinned Lennon with cold steel.

"Does her face look like one that is comfortable enough to share a bedroom with a man?"

The weight in his voice made even Lennon blink, his grin faltering for just a mont.

I shifted uneasily, hugging my arms to myself. He wasn’t wrong—I didn’t want to admit how hot my face felt at the thought of it.

And just then, Zenon’s gaze slid toward , still hard but not unkind. "She takes the bedroom. That is final."

---

Inside, the cottage was even smaller than I imagined. The living room opened directly from the door, a low sofa pressed against one wall, a woven rug on the floor, and a little kitchen tucked off to the side.

And there, down the short hall, was the single bedroom.

My stomach knotted tighter as I glanced around. The place looked... cozy. Almost too cozy, like it belonged in soone’s secret life, a place you wouldn’t share unless you wanted to.

Zenon moved through it like he had already mapped every corner, checking the locks and closing the curtains.

Rennon set his bag neatly by the sofa, already planning where he would sleep. And Lennon—he sprawled imdiately across the couch, arms thrown wide, claiming space that wasn’t even his.

I hovered uncertainly near the doorway until Rennon gestured toward the hall. "The bedroom’s yours. Freshen up first; you have had enough for one day."

I hesitated, my eyes rounding the small living room, wondering if the three big brothers would really fit in it.

And as if Lennon knew my thoughts, he propped himself up on one elbow, his grin flashing. "See? We’ve survived worse. Besides..."

Then his gaze swept deliberately toward the closed bedroom door. "I can think of worse fates than sleeping right outside our mate’s door."

I rolled my eyes, trying not to let my cheeks fla again.

Zenon shut the final curtain with a sharp tug and turned toward . "Go." His tone left no room for protest.

So I nodded, slipped down the hall, and pushed open the bedroom door.

It was simple: a bed with neatly folded blankets, a small desk by the window, and shelves with a few worn books.

Still, as I sat on the edge of the bed, I felt a strange tightness in my chest. I hadn’t been alone like this since arriving at ESA.

Through the wall, I could hear Lennon shifting, Rennon’s low murmur and Zenon’s steady movents.

I thought it was useless to try to poke my ears to see if I could hear what they were secretly talking about, so I went into the bathroom for a shower.

I let the hot water wash away the gri of the long day, but not the weight of it.

When I finally stepped out of the shower and slipped into a simple, loose-fitting cotton dress, my body felt a little lighter. Then, I towel-dried my hair and left it damp, the strands falling heavy down my back.

The bedroom was quiet when I returned, but sothing in the air caught my attention—a sll.

My stomach gave a humiliating growl before I could stop it. Garlic, herbs, and sothing rich were simring.

I froze for a mont. Cooking?

And right at this mont, a firm knock sounded at the door.

I tugged the hem of my dress self-consciously before opening it to see Lennon leaning against the fra, his smirk already in place.

Just then, his eyes caught imdiately on my hair, the red strands damp and shining in the lamplight.

He leaned in just enough to breathe exaggeratedly near , his grin widening. "Mmm. I like the sll of your shampoo."

I blinked at him, leaning instinctively away. "Um... Thank you?" The look I gave him was one of equal parts confusion and disapproval.

He chuckled, clearly pleased with himself, and dropped his voice into a whisper as if he were letting in on so scandalous secret. "Want to guess who is making dinner?"

I arched a brow. "You?"

He scoffed. "Please. Do I look like I would slave over a stove?"

I tapped my chin, pretending to think. "Rennon, then?"

But Lennon was already too impatient for guessing gas. He caught my wrist with a playful tug. "Nope. Co on. I will show you."

’Don’t tell —.’

I stumbled after Lennon, protesting quietly, but the mont we rounded the corner into the little kitchen, I froze.

Zenon stood at the stove, sleeves rolled up, moving with steady precision as he stirred sothing in a pan. The scent of herbs and broth thickened in the air, warm and grounding.

I blinked, completely caught off guard. "You... cook?"

Zenon glanced at briefly, his expression unreadable, before turning back to the pan. "Soone has to."

Lennon leaned down and whispered conspiratorially in my ear, "Told you it would be worth it."

I swatted him off, my gaze still on Zenon.

Sothing about the sight—this man who spent most of his ti cutting down with a glare or a sharp word, now calmly cooking in a kitchen, unravelled in a way I hadn’t expected.

Just then, at this perfect mont, another growl from my stomach rumbled, loud enough for Lennon to catch it. His grin turned wolfish.

"Hear that, Zenon? She is starving. Better not ss this up, or our mate might die before the fire even gets her."