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I don’t know how to respond, so I opt for a quick nod.
“Sit,” he says in his signature moody voice, but it sounds much less angry than normal. He points at a chair, and I do what he says. Within a minute, he brings me a plate with an egg and some mushrooms, all grilled with herbs on top.
As he places a glass of water and cutlery in front of me, I mutter, “How …?”
“Birds,” he answers. “They lay eggs.”
I frown, dumbfounded by his answer. “Here? In this forest?”
He shrugs. “Birds like trees.”
Right.
I pick up my glass and take a sip of the water.
I don’t get it. How does he go from completely grumpy asshole to doting on me like a … husband?
I almost choke on my water and swallow it down in one go, coughing afterward.
“You okay?” he asks.
I stick up a thumb.
Why does he care so much all of a sudden?
Did something change?
Or is it because of something I said?
Like perhaps telling him I’m a virgin.
My stomach drops, and I stare at Soren as he brings another plate and sits down across from me. “Enjoy.”
But all I can do is gape at the food in front of me, wondering if that’s all it took for him to be nice to me. Maybe it’s a trap.
Panic fills my veins. “What is this?”
He frowns. “Food.”
“No, what does it mean?”
I just want to know why he did all of this, but he continues to frown, only much heavier. “Food. Eat.”
Goddammit.
With a sigh, I pick up the cutlery and cut into the egg, which looks as delicious as I think it will taste. “I see you cleaned up the mess you left.”
I raise my brow at him, but he simply shoves some egg into his mouth.
“Any particular reason?”
“It was messy,” he responds.
Sure.
But then why do I get the sense that he’s trying to make me feel better? That he feels guilty?
I take a bite, and a small smile forms on my lips. It’s that good.
“I didn’t know you could cook.”
“I’m full of surprises,” he replies.
And I can’t help but snort.
He raises his brow. “What?”
“I’m just … I’m amazed you managed to clean the house and make breakfast for us, all while pretending you didn’t do this because I was pissed at you.”
He swallows deeply and puts his fork and knife down.
“I didn’t.”
I stare at him the same way he stares at me.
The silence between us is deafening.
“But you know what you did,” I say.
“So do you,” he retorts.
The fork in my hand bends under the pressure I apply. “I tried to help you.”
“And I warned you not to,” he rebukes. “Now, eat.”
I put down my fork. “No.”
He glares at me. Clutching the ends of the table, he scoots back his chair violently and stands up. This table isn’t that long, and even with that standing between us, he still looks menacing.
He leans forward and pricks my egg onto my fork, then holds it in front of my mouth. “Open.”
I wait a few seconds, contemplating my options. If I don’t, he might get mad again. Or shove it inside. If I do … If I give in to his demands, that means I no longer hold any power.
But am I willing to risk it?
I swallow and decide to open my mouth. He gently lays the fork onto my tongue until I take the egg. It feels oddly intimate, the way he looks at me chewing and swallowing. Sexual, almost. And it turns me as red as a beet.
He shoves the fork into my hand and sits back down again. “Finish it.”
With another loud sigh, I reluctantly pick up my food, eating it as slowly as I can because I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that I like his food.
“Are you in a hurry or something?” I quip.
He chows down on his food without responding, but he does look at me with intent.
Did I catch onto something?
After finishing, he picks up the plate and brings everything back to the kitchen. I shove the rest of my food down before he snatches that away too.
He picks up the metal from the floor and grabs his bag, tucking it inside. Then he fills it up with everything he’d taken out and more, including some of the food from the pantry and other important supplies. Finally, he throws some water over the fire.
“Are we … going somewhere?” I ask.
He marches over to me with a rope in his hand.
My eyes widen.
“Please, don’t do that again. I told you I—”
A tight knot is tied around my waist, and with it, I’m bound to him again.
Goddammit!
I groan out loud. “Really?”
“Time to go,” he says, and he turns around and marches toward the door.
I don’t even have the time to catch my bearings before I’m already tugged along.
