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“For orcs, a rage is like a coven of vampires or a pack of shifters. It’s our community.”
“A rage. You three are a rage?” she asked.
“No,” I said, refilling her water glass. “The four of us are a rage now.”
A sweet smile tugged at the corners of her full and pinked lips. “And we’re safe here? The children? Our future children?”
Genuine concern blanketed her tone. She was already worried. Already caring. “You and our future children are safe here. That’s why we have all of these measures in place. The cameras. Our hidden entrance to the mountains.”
We curled up together on the couch once again. Draven had come in but said he was going to train with Menace for a while. I knew he was giving us time alone, and I appreciated it, but all ofus needed time with Ilya. “Is that why they train so much? Can you three train me? To defend myself or the babies if you are not around?”
She brought up a valid point. One that I now wanted to discuss with Menace and Draven. It would be smart to teach our female how to use a weapon and to defend herself, especially since she didn’t have the extra senses that we did. When Menace invited her to come with him, he’d likely not been joking.
“I think that’s a great idea, Ilya. We can talk to them about it.”
Chapter Seventeen
Ilya
Draven took me up on my offer to cook with him, and I was so excited! After eating way too much of his delicious food, I couldn’t imagine I’d be able to come anywhere near his skill level, but with his guidance, maybe I could learn enough to be able to feed the three of them if they were too busy.
“Sit down, Ilya.” He patted the chair next to him at the kitchen table. “The first part of any great meal is planning it. Because we have everything delivered and it’s not easy for me just to run out and buy whatever I want whenever I want.”
“That makes sense.” Although sitting this close to him made it hard for logic to happen in my brain. Did they emit stronger pheromones than other males? “Show me?”
He had a journal in front of him and a pen. “I could do this online, and I keep telling myself I should, but I enjoy keeping the records this way. It feels…”
“Special?”
“Something like that. Anyway, you can see I have pork chops and rice down for dinner tonight, but I have a list of available alternatives, and I was thinking we might try the beef Wellington recipe I reworked for one of my clients. I mean…if you like?”
“Uh. Pork chops I have made, although probably not nearly as good as yours. Isn’t beef Wellington really hard?”
“Not so much hard as taking patience. The meal kit this was for gives the customers puff pastry already made up, but I thought we’d make our own today.” He arched a brow and cocked his head. “If you’re up for it?”
Making puff pastry? “I’ve seen it done on that British cooking show… Some of the contestants had real disasters.”
He waved that away with a laugh. “Time pressure and can you imagine trying to do something with all those cameras on you? Who could perform at their best under those circumstances?”
“Not me?” I wasn’t sure I could do this, but I’d asked for the opportunity.
“Not almost anyone. If you agree, we can get started now so the puff is ready in time for dinner.”
“I’m in your hands.” I held mine up. “But I hope you know what I’m doing.”
“We’ll see.” He grasped my hands and brought them to his lips one by one, grinning when I shivered. “But I’m betting on you. Let’s get started on the puff.”
“Does it really take a slab of butter as seen on TV?” I was joking but also a little scared of the whole thing.
“Yep! Ready?”
“Absolutely.” I tried to put enough enthusiasm in my reply, but his smirk told me I hadn’t quite hit the note I sought. “Let’s do this.”
Half an hour later, we were doing the first set of folds, encasing that giant hunk of butter and placing it in the refrigerator for its first chill. While the various chills and rolls and folds were happening, we prepared the other parts of the meal, and it was just amazing to watch him at work. He took the time to show me every step and made me laugh often. His hands were so sure; his ease with tasks I found so intimidating, admirable.
My favorite part was when he stood behind me and guided me doing the last set of folds before the final chilling in the refrigerator. “That’s it, Ilya. You’re a good student.” They weren’t kidding when they said their body temperature was higher than humans. How he managed not to melt the butter, I’d never know. He was a few inches away, but his warmthradiated through my back and buttocks in a way that I’d never experienced before. “One more. There you go.” He stepped back while I carried the parchment-wrapped packet to the fridge.
“What now?” I asked.
