Page 63 of Abandoned By My Alpha Husband

"Aren't you gonna eat?" Anya picked up a fry and held it to his mouth. "Here, I'll feed you."

The scene melted my heart into water. I sat across from them, watching Liam chew the fry carefully. The baby fat had left his face—his features were sharp and defined, a carbon copy of Lucifer. By werewolf reckoning, he was fifteen now, tall, and looked like he had half a head on me. I looked at the top of his head. Light brown hair dyed blue, with a few streaks of pale gold at the front. Two silver studs in his right ear, catching the light. When he opened his mouth, I saw a silver tongue piercing too.

No!

I almost fainted. An image of little Liam, all cute and sweet, flashed through my mind.

How did this happen?

What the hell had Lucifer done to my son?

"Why did you—" I reached out to touch his hair, but my fingers froze mid-air. Five years. Suddenly, I didn't know how to continue. Liam looked at my outstretched hand. His eyes widened slightly. Then he lowered his head, waiting for me to touch him.

My fingers landed gently on his hair. The texture was rough—dyed and not properly cared for. My fingertips slid from the fringe at his forehead to behind his ear. His body trembled slightly, but he didn't pull away.

"Have you eaten?" I asked, suddenly thinking Liam was still adorable like this. Still the same boy.

"Not hungry," he said, but his stomach betrayed him with a growl.

I couldn't help smiling. I waved the waiter over and ordered another meal, a large one this time, with chicken wings and onion rings. The waiter looked delighted.

"Why didn't you order for yourself?" I asked, puzzled why Liam would have no money.

Liam was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "My card got frozen."

"Why?"

"Fighting." He said it flatly, like it was nothing. "His Majesty wasn't happy."

His Majesty.

He called Lucifer His Majesty. Not Dad. His Majesty.

What was going on?

"Do you fight a lot?"

"More lately." He shrugged. "Nothing else to do anyway."

I looked at him, something heavy pressing on my chest. A kid his age should be in school, hanging out with friends, coming home to a hot meal. Not dyeing his hair, piercing his ears, fighting on the streets, broke and using his last cash to buy food for his sister.

"Liam," I said softly. "Are you... doing okay?"

He looked up at me. Something flashed in those gray eyes. Then he looked down, fingers rubbing back and forth on the table.

"Fine." He pretended not to care. "Got food and a roof."

"What about school?"

"I go." He paused. "Sometimes."

"Sometimes?" I frowned. Liam looked a little guilty but told the truth anyway.

"Skip when I don't feel like going." His voice dropped. "Teachers don't care about me anyway."

My fingers clenched tight.

"Does your fa—does His Majesty know you're skipping?"