She could rent a room at the Saltwater Lodge and I could keep her safe there just as well. She’s only hiding from the press. It’s not like she’s in anyphysical danger.
But here she is, in my lair, surrounded by my scent. And if I was a stronger man, I would tell her to pack her bags and take her away. Instead, I’m bringing her more food. More gifts.
This means nothing, I lie to myself.This is just business. Just my job.
More lies. We’re way past that, Rona and me. At least, I’m way past that. I never felt this way about a woman before. Never felt this level of possessiveness, of protectiveness.
And I hate myself for it. Because it’s wrong and it’s dangerous.
I kill the headlights but stay inside the car, listening to the engine ticking heat into the frozen air. Through the front windshield, I watch Rona cross past the kitchen window, her silhouette backlit by warm lamplight. The sight of her, so comfortable and peaceful inside my space, settles the restless feeling in my chest.
Don't go in. Wait until you can breathe normally again.
I try. I fail.
The hunger that lives under my ribs wakes the instant she turns toward the glass and looks straight at my SUV. I know she cannot see me through the tinted glass, but it feels like she can see me sitting here in the dark, watching her like some kind of monstrous stalker. Which I am, apparently. I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles go white, telling myself I've succeeded in staying away all day.
Chopping wood. Hauling supplies. Fixing stuff inside the cabin. I didn’t even dare sit across from her while she ate. Didn’t dare watch her enjoy what I cooked. Didn’t dare think about all the ways I want to feed her.
I can't stay in this fucking car all night. I have to go in.
I grab the two paper sacks full of groceries from the passenger seat. After a second of hesitation, I reach for the glass jar I purchased at Elga’s shop. The rose petal bath salts. The ones Rona held like treasure before setting them down with that wistful expression.
I'm an idiot. But I'm an idiot with excellent hearing, and I heard exactly what she said.I love this.
I shoulder the door against the bitter cold and trudge up the shoveled path, groceries in my hands, the jar clutched stupidly tight in my grip like it might escape. Snow crunches under my boots, and my breath forms white clouds that dissipate immediately in the dry air.
I step inside and stop dead.
The cabin is warm, lamplight low and golden, the fireplace murmuring contentedly. But it's the smell that hits me like a sledgehammer to the chest. Roasted meat, garlic, and rosemary, rich and complex and absolutely fucking perfect.
Did Rona cook? Did she cookfor me?
The meaning lands hard enough to buckle my knees. She cooked in my lair. For me.
I swallow against the sudden tightness in my throat. She probably doesn't understand what this means to an ogre. How cooking in a male's lair, using food he gathered, translates in the most primitive part of my brain.
She's claimed me. Whether she knows it or not.
Rona stands at the kitchen table, cheeks pink from the heat of the stove, wearing a cozy pink sweater that softens all her lines and jeans that hug her legs like a second skin. Her hair falls over one shoulder in a loose French braid, the thick rope of it resting heavy against the swell of her breast. When she sees me, her face lights up with pride and something that might be shyness.
"I cooked," she says, like she's offering me the world. "For you."
I set the grocery sacks on the counter, my eyes glued to her despite every warning bell going off in my head.
Don't look like a starving beast, I think.Don't let her see how much this affects you.
I fail spectacularly. The world tilts on its axis, everything in me recalibrating around her smile like the entire universe is feeling the gravitational pull of this moment.
I clear my throat, suddenly remembering the jar in my death grip, and hold it out across the space between us.
"For you."
She takes it, puzzled at first, then brings it to her nose and breathes in. The gasp that escapes her is soft and delighted.When she looks up at me again, I know I can never be the same man I was just a few days earlier.
"Darhg." She looks at me with those pale-blue eyes gone soft. "Thank you."
No joking. No teasing. Just warmth, spreading through the space between us like honey.
