Stiles woke up early, body deliciously sore, pussy and ass still tender and sticky from last night’s kitchen punishment. She slipped out of bed quietly, Eli still dead asleep, and padded downstairs in one of Lydia’s oversized silk robes.

The kitchen was quiet, sunlight just starting to spill through the huge windows. She moved like she belonged there—grinding beans, brewing coffee, arranging mugs on a tray like the perfect future daughter-in-law.