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Meg continued, “I had to figure out how to substitute honey for
sugar, but I think I have it. It’s an oatmeal cookie. It’s better with
chocolate chips, but we don’t have any. Try one.”
That wasn’t what he wanted to try. He wanted to get his mouth on
her breasts and that sweet, soft pussy of hers, but he was playing a
long game. Still, he couldn’t disappoint her. He took the “cookie” and
prayed it tasted better than the other meals she had attempted to cook
him. His bride was beautiful and possessed a sharp mind, but she was
crap when it came to cooking. He’d had to choke down dinner all
week and smile and tell her how edible it was. Flanna was attempting
to teach her a few tricks to Fae cooking. So far, it wasn’t working.
Her hand was on her hip, and there was an offended look on her
pretty face. “It’s not going to kill you, Ci.”
He was pretty sure it wouldn’t. He quickly calculated his odds of
surviving Meg’s cookie experiment. He was confident, when applying
the laws of rational deduction, that his odds were in the 99.783%
range. Meg’s foot tapped impatiently on the floor. He had a 100%
chance of pissing off his wife if he didn’t eat the damn thing and
manage to smile. Cian shoved the cookie in his mouth. He gamely
chewed.
It was not half-bad. “It’s good.”
The smiled that quirked up her lips was wry. “You don’t have to
sound so surprised, Cian. I never was a very good cook, but I always
could bake. I didn’t get these hips from following the Atkins Diet.”
Cian would have asked her what she meant, but he was eating a
second cookie. It wasn’t just good. It was great. He had never really
liked oats. They tasted like paper, but Meggie’s cookie was soft and
sweet. He reached for a third.
Meg pulled the platter back. “Hey, I need those for the goblins.
Flanna said they’ve set up camp on the other side of the village in the
