“Good.” She pinched his cheeks. “You are so adorablewhen you smile. Let her see it, and she will certainly fall in love!”
“Have I ever confessed that I sometimes loathe your company?”
She smirked, eyes sparkling. “Many times. But I know they were lies.”
He shook his head and waved her away. “Off with you, then. I’ve mortal matters to attend.”
Starling giggled and disappeared.
Despite what she’d done and the mess she’d left him trapped in, he adored the sprite.
She really is like a sister to me. Just as the witch said.
“Nyte?” Ember called.
He shook his wings, but the gesture could not shed the turmoil within him.
Composed. Confident. In control. I am a nocturnus of old, a being possessing power beyond her fathoming.
Standing straight with his shoulders squared, he walked back to the kitchen entrance. Ember wasn’t in sight. He continued through the kitchen, following the direction her voice had come from to find her in a connected dining room. She stood beside a round table upon which two plates of food had been set, each paired with a glass of water.
“What is this?” he asked as he approached her.
She gestured to one of the plates. “I made spaghetti Bolognese.”
“Are those words intended to mean anything to me?”
“It’s food. You eat it.”
Nyte stopped behind the chair near the plate she’d indicated, staring down at the food. Long noodles covered in red sauce with meat and vegetables mixed in. “I don’t eat human slop.”
“Wow. Okay. That’s not a very nice thing to say.”
His brow furrowed, and he looked at Ember. She was glaring at him with a gleam of hurt in her eyes.
“I’ve told you, witch, that I feed on fear.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t know that was all you ate.” She picked up the plate and turned toward the kitchen. “That’s fine. If you don’t want thisslop, you don’t have to eat it.”
This brief stay in the world of mortals had introduced him to many things he did not understand, but this exchange was perhaps the most perplexing—and by far the most distressing. Seeing her upset did something to Nyte. It felt like a taloned hand had reached into his chest, grasped everything within it, and twisted it all into knots.
She cooked this food. She put time, effort, and thought into it, and she wanted to share it with me.
And he’d insulted it. Had insulted her.
Nyte darted in front of Ember before she could reach the kitchen. Eyes flaring, she halted with a gasp.
He took the plate from her. “No. You made this for me, so it is mine.”
Mine.
There was that word again. It echoed through him as their eyes met, thrumming into every part of his being.
He grasped her wrist with his free hand and led her back to the table, struggling to keep from focusing on the warmth and softness of her skin. Returning his plate to its place, he dragged out the chair from her spot and pointed to it. “Sit.”
She blinked at him with wide eyes and sat.
“Good witch,” Nyte said huskily, and his chest heated when her cheeks pinkened and her lips parted with a sharp inhalation.
