Okay, so he wasn’t going to help. This was on me, which was how it had to be because I’d left, saying I needed to think and understand the shifter world.
“It doesn’t create something that doesn’t already exist.” That was what I’d learned. I wasn’t being pushed into something I objected to. The link to him was part of me, just as the instinct to mate me was in his DNA.
“What is it like when we’re apart?” I asked.
“Like a constant ache. A pull toward you that never eases.” He rested his arms on his knees.
I’d been experiencing the same symptoms, though a wave of queasiness interrupted what I was about to say. That had been happening on and off and was due to me stressing over the trial.
“Are you all right?” Riven held out his hands to steady me. “You’re very pale.”
“Gee, thanks.” I took a deep breath. “It’s stress or stomach flu, but nothing to worry about.”
He glanced toward the kitchen. “Have you eaten today?”
Had I? I tried to remember. “Coffee this morning and a piece of dry toast.” The thought of food made my stomach roil again.
“You should eat.” He strode into my kitchen. “I can make you something.”
How many times had Riven said the same thing when we shared a cabin? “You don't have to.”
“I want to.” He checked the fridge and the cupboards. “Where do you keep your groceries?”
“There are cans of soup in the cabinet above the stove. And crackers somewhere.”
Riven rummaged through my kitchen. I watched from the couch, comforted by him taking charge but also suffering from another wave of nausea.
“Are you sure you're alright?” Riven glanced over his shoulder. “You don’t look well.”
“I’m just tired.” I leaned back on the sofa and closed my eyes. “It’s been a long couple of days.”
“This might help settle your stomach.” His voice was close by, and I opened my eyes. He was standing beside me with a glass of what I guessed was ginger ale.
“Thanks. I didn't know I had any of that.”
“You didn't. I found ginger tea and mixed it with some soda water.” He moved back to the kitchen. “Old pack remedy.”
The concoction soothed and eased the queasiness.
“The soup will be ready in a few minutes.” He opened my refrigerator again. “Do you always eat like this? No wonder you're tired and weak.”
“I've been busy with the trial.” I hauled myself up. “And I usually order in.”
He tutted, saying I had to look after myself.
I did, and I would, but I was grateful he was doing it.
“You don’t mind me eating something I brought with me, do you?” He pulled a package from his backpack and unwrapped it. “It’s dried venison.”
“That's…” My voice trailed off as the scent hit me, and my stomach growled. I licked my lips at the enticing aroma.
He raised a brow. “Hungry after all?”
“No, I don’t… but maybe.” I'd never liked dried meat. But now, saliva pooled in my mouth.
“Do you want some?” Riven picked up the saucepan containing the soup.
The broth I’d eaten countless times smelled gross, and another wave of nausea hit me. I returned to the couch, and he placed a tray on the coffee table with soup, crackers, and his dried meat. Pushingthe bowl toward me, he instructed me to eat. But the smell made my stomach turn, and I pushed it away.
