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Aela sniffed. “If you need an official taste tester, please, let me know because I volunteer as tribute.”
Finn snagged his arm around my waist. “She’s already got an official taste tester. Me.”
“Now, now, there’s plenty to go 'round,” Aela countered. “Don’t be selfish, Finn.”
“She’s mine,” he growled under his breath, but though his lips were smiling, I saw the stamp of possession in his eyes. That stamp that was always there. That always branded me.
I pressed a hand to his abs to soothe the beast. “I’m yours. Always.”
He snagged my mouth in a kiss that I felt to my bones, and just as the brownie platter started wobbling in my hold, Aela snapped, “Watch the brownies, Finn. For God’s sake.” I felt it being snatched out of my hand as Finn bit down on my bottom lip, hard enough to leave indentations.
“Mine,” he rasped.
I smiled, but it turned smug. “Yours.”
He tapped me on the nose. “Witch. You weren’t going to let me try the brownies, were you?”
He knew me too well. “They’re not right. I was going to wrap them up for the food bank.”
“If these are wrong, Aoife, then I want to taste everything that comes out of your oven,” Aela groused.
“Being pregnant is messing with your taste buds,” I argued.
“Is it messing with mine too?” Finn drawled, making me laugh.
Aela sniffed as she shot me a pointed look before she headed over to the other end of the kitchen where Jake was playing.
“Hey little dude, you don’t know how lucky you are to have a mom who makes magic in the kitchen.”
As she ruffled his hair up, Aela switched on the TV, and after flicking through a few channels, the news came on.
My brow furrowed as I saw the screen. “That’s that hockey player you like, Finn.”
“I know. Haven’t you heard? He was kidnapped.”
“Jeez. Isn’t he Canadian?”
“Yeah.” He laughed. “Canadians get kidnapped too.”
“Apparently.”
He tugged on my hand and walked us over to the sofa where Aela was gorging on what looked to be her fourth piece.
“Babe, you eat another brownie and you’ll puke.”
She shrugged. “I puke all the time anyway. This one would be worth it.”
“If you say so,” I muttered but I was smiling. Maybe that recipe wasn’t crap, after all.
Finn slung his arm over my shoulders, but even as he hauled me into his side, flour dusting and all, his focus was on the screen.
“Bastards,” he mumbled under his breath.
Aela peered up at him. “You pissed because he was kidnapped, because he’s a good player, because the Points didn’t get to him first, or all of the above?”
I felt his tension, but he let it simmer as he told her, “The Points rarely stoop to kidnapping.”
“Rarely being the operative word there, Aoife.”
