The Lycan King’s Mark (Nevara) by Tiffanie L. Campbell novel Chapter 50

CHAPTER 50 – Cupcakes and Caution

Nevara

I was halfway through peeling off my training shirt when the knock came.

“Door’s open,” I called, yanking the fabric over my head with a wince. Every muscle in my body still ached

from drills.

Michelle peeked in with a too–bright smile and a casual bounce in her step. “You busy?”

I blinked at her from the edge of my bed. “Uh. Kind of. Just got out of training.”

“Perfect!” she chirped. “You’re limber. Come run errands with me.”

I stared. “Errands?”

She nodded like it was the most exciting word in the realm. “Come on. I need a second opinion on a few things. And I hate going alone.”

I hesitated. My body screamed for a bath and a nap. My brain was already halfway through the book waiting on my nightstand. But Michelle’s smile was disarming–sweet with just a hint of

don’t–make–me–drag–you energy.

“Fine,” I groaned, standing up and pulling on a fresh shirt. “But this better not involve lifting anything heavier than a cupcake.”

She beamed. “Funnily enough… our first stop is a bakery.”

I blinked. “Wait–running errands involves baked goods now?”

“Running errands always involves cake,” she said as if it were gospel. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Life is too short not to have cake.”

I smirked. “Okay… that’s actually a pretty solid mantra.”

“I thought so.” She twirled toward the hallway. “Come on. You’re going to love this place.”

Downtown was bustling, all warm stone streets and bustling windows glowing with late afternoon light. The bakery she led me to was tucked between a florist and a stationery shop, the display window bursting with frosted perfection.

The bell chimed as we stepped inside, the scent of sugar and fresh bread wrapping around me like a hug I

didn’t know I needed.

Michelle sighed dramatically. “Smells like happiness.”

Rows of cupcakes lined the glass counter–perfectly piped swirls in every color imaginable. Chocolate, lemon, salted caramel, strawberry shortcake. A few even sparkled with edible glitter.

“Oh my gods,” Michelle whispered. “They have lemon. I love lemon.”

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I chuckled, drifting toward the other end. “I don’t know what to get. I’m picky.”

She gave me a playful side–eye. “You strike me as a red velvet girl.”

+25 Points

“I do love red velvet,” I admitted. “But I’m not huge on the cream cheese frosting. I usually scrape it off.”

“Scandalous,” she gasped.

I grinned. “Also love carrot cake, but it’s hard to find without raisins or nuts. And I’m extremely allergic to

nuts, so… yeah. Risky choice.”

Michelle tilted her head. “No way. I hate raisins in carrot cake. And nuts just ruin the texture.”

My eyebrows lifted. “You’re one of the few who get it.”

“Oh, I make a fabulous carrot cake,” she said, brushing a curl off her shoulder. “No raisins. No nuts. Just

moist, spicy perfection. I’ll make you one sometime.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but she was already turning back to the counter.

“So…” she prompted. “What’s the verdict today?”

I eyed the rows. “I think I’m going with the white chocolate raspberry.”

Michelle clutched her chest like I’d proposed. “Excellent choice! Bold, romantic, just the right amount of

drama.”

I snorted. “It’s a cupcake, Michelle.”

“No such thing,” she said solemnly, turning to the attendant. “We’ll take one of the raspberry, one lemon, and–ooh, throw in a double chocolate. For balance.”

As the cupcakes were boxed up, I glanced toward the little sitting nook in the corner–pillowed bench, ivy–wrapped windows, sunlight spilling in like something out of a painting.

“I can’t decide if this is the most random errand run I’ve ever been on,” I said, “or the best.”

Michelle winked. “Why not both?”

We left the bakery with our little box of sugar treasures, Michelle linking her arm through mine like we were childhood best friends instead of women who barely knew each other a week ago.

“I needed this,” she sighed. “Sugar therapy. Criminally underrated.”

I chuckled. “You say that like it’s a real thing.”

“Oh, it absolutely is. No one cries with a cupcake in their hand. It’s science.”

We rounded the corner, the cobbled sidewalk buzzing with quiet foot traffic and the scent of roasted chestnuts from a street vendor. Michelle tugged gently at my sleeve.

“Ooh! One sec–I need to pop in here real fast.”

I looked up at the glass storefront she was pointing to. A stationery shop. Delicate hand–painted lettering

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< CHAPTER 50 – Cupcakes and Caution

curled across the door: Script & Quill.

“For stationery?” I asked, already amused.

+25 Points

“Yes,” she said firmly. “I adore stationery. And junk journaling. Don’t even get me started on fountain pens

-I will talk your ears off. It’s a sickness.”

She held the door open for me, the little bell overhead chiming as we stepped inside. Warm golden light spilled across polished wood floors, shelves lined with wax seals, ink bottles, handmade papers, and

stacks of artfully chaotic washi tape rolls.

“Gods, I love this place,” Michelle whispered with the same reverence some people reserved for temples.”

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