If he never wishes to join me, at the very least he could move closer. I could spend my days working with my father and make the journey back to Rhydian’s arms every night. It’s a compromise I’m willing to make to keep him.
Once he learns there is nothing to fear, I hope he will join me amongst the others.
I capture his hand in mine and tug him forward.
“Come. I want to cook for you.” A frown carves my lips. “If only my cookies had survived the fall. I promise you’ve never tasted anything better in your life.”
Rhydian’s grin stretches as his mouth finds my ear.
“Hm, I’m sure their sweetness comes second to your delicious cunt.”
“Rhydian!” I smack his arm as my face heats.
“Don’t get shy on me now, Bloom. You were confident last night—demanding.”
“That was different. It was dark for one.”
Rhydian raises a brow.
“Am I forbidden from voicing my wanton desires while the sun’s up?”
My glare withers the wildflowers growing through the kitchen window.
“No.”
“Good.” His palm smacks soundly against my ass. “As I have plans on enjoying you again just as soon as you’ve eaten. In the light. Where I can see every beautiful inch of you.”
“What happened to the shy male I met last night?” I ask.
“As I said, the taste of your pussy changed me.” He kisses my cheek. “I’ll be needing another very soon.”
“Me too,” I confess, rubbing my thighs together. “Show me what you have for food.”
Trudging into the kitchen, I take in the small space.
There is a wood-burning oven with an accompanying stovetop. A small water basin and a smattering of cupboards. A few pots of sun-roasted herbs lay dead on the windowsill. A stack of chipped white plates rests on a barren shelf. Copper pots and pans hang from rusted hooks along the wall.
I inhale the floral breeze floating in from the mild morning.
In the daylight,the Woodsdon’t look as foreboding. A doe grazes in the distance on a patch of tall grass. White birds soar between the thicket of trees. I hadn’t noticed it last night, but Rhydian has a small farm off to the side.
A pair of plump cows lounge in the sun. The pink snout of a grey mare sniffs through a bushel of hay. A flock of chickens cluck and run around in their small pen.
Rhydian is at my back.
His chest presses against my shoulder as he reaches over and opens a cupboard. Inside are basic ingredients. A sack of flour, a canister of sugar, and a few small ceramic cups of spices.
“I have eggs and milk as well.” I look back at him as his eyes shift away. “It’s not much. I grow most of my food or hunt in the forest.”
Surveying my options, I know just what to make.
“Sit,” I command.
Rhydian settles into the kitchen chair. It creaks under his weight as I get to work.
Selecting a pale green mixing bowl, I whip up a simple pancake batter. Enhancing it with cinnamon, I heat up a pan. Finding a small package of butter, I wait until it sizzles atop the copper before pouring in small circles of batter.
While they cook, I make fresh whipped cream and fold in wild blueberries from Rhydian’s garden. The yeasty scent of the pancakes quickly overpowers the smell of flowers. The warmth of the stove is familiar, making me miss my father.
