“Fates,” he mused. “It did not feel like that long. Or perhaps it felt longer. Like all of time itself.”
My stomach interrupted our conversation by growling loudly. His eyes jumped to my torso and then back to my face. “You are hungry.”
I stood, embarrassed. “I haven’t had breakfast yet. And are you hungry?”
He shook his head. “I have learned that I do not necessarily need to eat.”
“I thought so,” I muttered. Was there anything this god couldn't do?
I set about preparing myself breakfast. It was a welcome distraction. I cracked an egg over a pan and lit the flame on my stove, content to scramble myself an egg mash.
My breath caught when Shade drifted up behind me, leaving only a whisper of space between us.
I could feel him hovering over my shoulder, watching my movements. I suddenly felt clumsy and self-conscious.
“What are you making?” he asked quietly. His breath rustled my hair.
A shiver rolled down my spine and I squeezed my eyes shut. “Just some eggs.”
“Teach me?”
I clumsily sloshed the eggs around with a fork, tensingwhen the movement caused my elbow to brush against him. He didn’t back up. “You don’t eat,” I reminded.
“But you do.”
I swallowed. “You want to learn how to make food? For me?”
“Yes.”
This was crazy. Absolutely insane. The most ridiculous thing that had ever happened to me— even more ridiculous than being given a baby dragon to take care of.
And yet… I wanted to keep going. See how far it would go.
“It’s really not difficult…”
“Hmm,” he murmured, leaning even closer. His chin ghosted over my shoulder, his cheek brushing my hair.
If I leaned back even an inch, our bodies would be flush.
I stood as still as possible.
“What next?” he prompted.
“Salt, pepper, a few herbs,” I said with a strangled voice.
He reached around me, his deft fingers snatching a bundle of basil from the counter next to the stove. “This?”
“Mhm,” I confirmed. My head spun.
“Show me what comes next, Ginger.”
I swallowed past the tightness in my throat. I silently pleaded for the eggs not to burn. I knew I needed to walk to the other end of the kitchen and grab a knife, but I was reluctant to put space between us.
I reluctantly stepped to the side, and his arm pressed into my waist as I did so. My stomach lurched at the contact.
I could have sworn I heard his breath catch.
I continued on my path, retrieving the knife from the drawer, as well as a cutting board.
