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She felt a flush meet the ends of her smile. The entire night had been amazing, better than her most indulgent fantasy. The warmth of a family who only needed each other. A lover’s safe and gentle caress, and a much-needed restoration after.
Ana reluctantly peeled herself away from the bed. She was still nude, but her gown, crumpled on the floor at the foot of the bed, was a muddy disaster. The idea of anything so foul touching her skin after she’d been kissed by happiness seemed an affront to the gift the Ancestors had given her last night.
She pulled the quilt from the bed instead, wrapped it around her shoulders, and padded into the kitchen.
Tyreste was at the small stove, flipping bread in an old iron pan. But that wasn’t what caught her eye, nor what stirred her desire. He hadn’t bothered putting on a shirt and wore only trousers, that, without his buckles, sagged around the edge of his hips. His muscled back rippled as he tossed the bread in the air and deftly caught it, chuckling to himself in approval.
Ana, smiling, tiptoed across the usually creaky boards, avoiding detection until she craned up to kiss the back of his neck.
Tyr leaped, pan swinging, and nearly clocked her with it. “Woman!”
She covered her mouth with laughter at his narrowing eyes. He set the pan on the stove and charged forward, scooped her up, and tossed her over his shoulder, growling playfully through her squeals.
“All right, I’m sorry!” Ana protested, swatting his ass as he spun her. “But that smellssolovely.”
Tyreste sat her down, offering another squint of warning before he returned to the stove. “Damn right it does. When do you ever get to eat fry bread at Fanghelm?”
“I don’t eat breakfast, so I wouldn’t know what they serve,” Ana replied. “At least, not anymore.”
“Don’t care for it?” Tyreste asked over his shoulder.
“It’s more the company than the food,” she muttered.
He nodded to himself and didn’t probe further.
“If my father ever tasted your cider, he’d pay you a fortune for the recipe.”
“No recipe,” Tyreste said. He dumped the last piece of bread from the pan onto the others stacked on a plate and pushed the pan off the flame. “It’s just... the way I made it when I was at the Reliquary.”
Locked away in their dungeonwas what he meant, but if he’d wanted to talk about it, he would have elaborated more. “Well, I love it. It’s a comfort to me. It feels...” She trailed off, feeling silly.
He turned and leaned against the hearth. “Feels what, Ana?”
“It’s nothing.” She lowered her eyes.
“We’re past that, right?”
“What?”
“Holding back. Keeping our truths from each other.”
She nodded and shrugged. “It feels... safe, I was going to say. Like home should feel.”
Tyreste’s mouth stretched into a grin. He tapped his hands on the stone behind him and pushed off. “Have a seat. Go on. I’ll bring everything over.”
Ana breathed deep and sat in the chair she’d always chosen. He’d often fed her before their acrobatic sessions, but in the years she’d been coming to his cabin for sex, they’d never just shared a meal because they wanted to.
Everything was different now, and she wasn’t sure what it meant.
Tyreste hummed to himself as he flitted about the kitchen, gathering the plate of bread, the mugs, and linens for them both. He set it all on the table and snatched a thin jacket from a nearby rack, then shrugged it on, to her dismay.
“Eat up,” he demanded, nodding at the plate and then her. He swallowed a mouthful of cider and dug in without waiting.
Ana just watched him, her heart swollen with confusion.
“What?” he asked, his mouth full of bread. “Not hungry?”
“Famished,” she said softly and pulled a piece of bread from the plate. She picked at the corners and pushed a delicious bite into her mouth, forcing herself to chew. Shewasfamished, but her mind was heavy, and she had things she needed to say to him before she lost her courage.
