Page 16 of Chaos At Second Sight

Lucien was dragging a bloodied boar by its hind leg, its tongue lolling out. He then dropped it on the ground, flattening the ferns.

“Mate.” He brought me to his chest and licked me from chin to ear. “Lucien missed you,” he said with a reverent tone.

I appreciated the lick-kiss—the mate-bond sparks were there—but I wasn’t going to return it.

He sat down, making a few pebbles jump with the movement, and dragged me over to sit on his lap. “Breakfast is here.”

I admired how he methodically removed the fur with his claws. Then he started pulling out and discarding parts of the animal. There were three piles: garbage such as the pelt and bones, the edible bits, and the best parts. Lucien picked the latter, chewing without offering.

He must be hungry. I stroked his arm absently. I didn’t take it personally that he didn’t offer me any. After all, he hunted the boar and deserved to feed himself first. But then I watched, horrified, as he plucked the chewed-up food from his mouth and brought it over to me. “For Mate. Best part.”

“Lucien! Don’t be disgusting!” I slapped his beastly hand away, my cheeks red with mortification and boar blood droplets.

He insisted.

My palm stayed firmly clamped over my mouth. I wrinkled my nose and turned my face to the left; his hand followed. I tilted my chin up, then down, but he shadowed my escapes. I knew I was acting like a spoiled brat after he went to get me food, but I’d challenge anyone to accept meat already chewed in someone else’s mouth.

Apparently, Lucien had already devoured two sheep on his hunt, further proven by the tuft of white wool still wedged between his fangs, and had dessert too—a badger—on the way back. Which meant this entire boar was for me. All of it.

A low, wounded whine slipped from him.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Lucien, I’m not a baby bird. I can feed myself!”

His ears dropped, his head following, as he stared mournfully at the mangled chunk of meat resting in his palm. Heartbroken.

Great. Just great. Now I’ve offended him.

“Listen, Lucien.” Every time I uttered his name, it seemed to excite him a little, his ears twitching in response. In the end, he was just an overgrown puppy dressed in beastly fur; all he wanted was cuddles and to take care of his mate. “I don’t eat raw meat in my human form. The bacteria would make me sick.” I palmed his forearm. “But I’m grateful you hunted this for me.”

He looked away, still unconvinced.

I sighed. “I’ll cook it over the fire. How about that?”

“But Mate teeth so puny.” He frowned at my mouth. “Lucien must chew meat for Mate.”

I bared my teeth with a small growl, and he immediately leaned in to lick them. I giggled and dodged him, also trying not to gag. “Please, Lucy?”

He huffed. “Okay…”

Relief flooded me. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings by explaining that food already chewed was revolting. Mate or not. I’d been born with a functional set of teeth, perfectly capable of chewing my own meal.

After gathering some dry wood and coaxing a crackling fire to life, I skewered the pieces of meat (those not chewed) and roasted them over the flames. Lucy watched the boar meat with fascination as it browned. So, I offered him some portions as I couldn’t possibly eat the whole animal and I didn’t want to waste it.

“Good, huh?” I nudged his arm.

He looked sheepish but nodded adorably before inhaling three-quarters of the boar. “Yes, good. Thank you, Mate.”

It was strangely relaxing to be here, in the middle of nowhere. The Highlands rolled out like a sea with big blue-green waves in front of me, with glinting waterways, shadows in their glens, and hollowed corries. A flock of wild geese passed above, and on the opposite hillside, five red deer grazed among the rippling purple heather while a soft Highland drizzle tapped on all of us.

I reached up my palm to collect it. “Rain is called smirr in Scots.”

“Smirrrr.”

I grinned and flicked it at him, giggling. His eyes widened in surprise. He also gathered water in his hands but didn’t throw it at me. Instead, he transferred over the rain into my cupped palms so I could throw it at him again!

Two large stags were eyeing Lucien, heads down. He ignored them, at least for now.

“Lucien doesn’t like deer,” he admitted when I asked about his preferences. “Lucien likes pigs and sheep.” To emphasize his point, he licked his muzzle before returning to his favorite activity: watching me. Minutes could pass without him blinking. The scientist in me wanted to time it; the woman in me was self-conscious under that unwavering gaze. It was hard not to imagine Logan somewhere behind those eyes, with that amber scent drifting over me. I probably looked like a savage…and I was okay with it.