I wave this off. “That isn’t necessary. Come sit and keep me company.” The moment the words leave me I question them. How very…bossy of me. Clearing my throat, I shake off the unsettled nerves and stop questioning myself. “If you’d like,” I add to soften my demeanor. Our eyes catch then, and my heart does the same little torturous flip. Ripping my gaze from his I lead the way.
The wolf shifter moves his pack to the door, where it won’t be underfoot, and follows me into the kitchen. I put the kettle over the fire and chop up the potato. Then I move on to some vegetables I grew the day before last and tip them into a pot with beans and broth and some meat I had under a preservation spell. On a stormy night like tonight the kitchen witch in me demands a hearty soup. Smugly I wonder if the smell of the soup will tempt him to eat. He’s already denied me twice and a third time won’t do.
After all I feel a desire to feed him. To offer him warmth and comfort. My mind drifts and I quickly shut down the thoughts that come.
The shifter accepts a seat at the kitchen table and a cup of tea, sipping it slowly while I move around the kitchen. His large hand around the delicate porcelain saucer forces my lips to pull into a smirk. I have to make an effort to keep my hands steady. I am not embarrassed about cooking—the moons know I have been the only one to cook for myself for the last three years—but I can feel his eyes on me. As the spices are added I ask them to nourish our bodies. I speak more to the soup itself, in my head, than I do to the company I currently keep.
I don’t know how to start a conversation. Every time my lips part, my breath seems to leave. As if it rushed out of me and left the words themselves behind. I saw how his eyes went wide when he saw me before. I can feel the heat in his glances. He finds me interesting, and I like the way he looks at me. I more than like it.
The soup bubbles in the pot, and I lean over it, the strangest feeling in my chest.
Is it hope?
Is it something more?
Should I feel this way, when I am meant to be alone?
The questions pile up as I ladle out two bountiful bowls of soup.
The storm is the loudest part of the meal. The soldier tries to ask a few questions about the cottage and the storm, and I tell him that I have lived here nearly all my life, and I have never seen a storm this strong come through. I can barely look at him while we speak. What has come over me?
Otherwise, we focus on eating the stew by candlelight. My smile grows with the small groan of satisfaction as he eats. An urge to tease him for denying his hunger at first threatens to spill from my lips. But I keep them shut, merely admiring the roughness of his hands as he eats.
When the stew is gone and we’ve shared a small loaf of buttered bread to wipe the bowls of every drop, I show him to the small bathing room in one corner of the cottage. It only takes a wave of my hand to fill the bathing tub with hot water. I don’t miss the way his shoulders straighten as I wave my hand. How he pays attention to my every movement.
He’s intrigued and I love that. I, too, find myself intrigued.
He accepts a small stack of towels and washcloths with an expression of mild surprise on his face, then shuts himself in. I stand with my back to the closed door, hand on my racing heart, wondering what he looks like in the nude. The moment I catch myself wondering I roll my eyes at myself.
I do not listen outside the door. Even if I wanted to, I could not hear sloshing water in the tub over the storm. He is a temporary guest, of extreme sexual attraction, but a guest nonetheless.
A little while later, he steps out into the firelight with the towels wrapped around his waist, and I spin around averting my eyes but it’s of no use. My mouth waters and my pulse quickens: the view is forever etched into my memory.
I don’t want to look away, but the glimpse of chiseled abs and corded muscle over every inch of him made my face flame hotter than I thought it could get. Absent-mindedly, I snatch some crystals from my worktable and pretend to concentrate on rearranging them. I think I hear some movement near his pack.
When I straighten up again, he has returned, and is wearing a pair of trousers and what looks to be a clean shirt. Better for my racing heart, but I don’t think the color of my face has returned to normal just yet.
“Is there anything else you need?” I look him in the eyes when I say it, though the question feels dangerously close to inviting him into my bed. My voice is a little tight, a little higher pitched than I’d like.
He shakes his head, a noticeable smirk making his handsome face look even more tempting. “Thank you.” The rough tone of his voice seems to connect directly to my clit. Oh the moon plays a deadly trick this evening. I shut down all racing thoughts and tell him calmly, “I think I’ll ready myself for bed.”
The soldier nods, then goes back to the kitchen table and sits while I head to the bathing room.
My hands have never shaken so much from changing into my nightgown and splashing water onto my face. Gripping the handles of the faucet I whisper internally to myself, it’s only one night.
It is probably one night. All the soldier needs is a charge in his crystals, and he will be gone again, back to his life. My eyes lift to the mirror and I tell myself I can keep it together for one night. The poor shifter has been through enough.
I focus on being a good hostess, and nothing more than that.
The first thing I do when I step back into the main room is calm the fire. It does not need to burn all night, but a little heat wouldn’t hurt. It is cooler out with the rain, and might get cooler as the night goes on.
The soldier stands and watches as I find another spare pillow and a lighter blanket than what’s already in the pile on the floor.
“What is this?” he asks when I offer them.
“For your bed.” Saying the word bed to him feels risky, too. As if I’m attempting to seduce him when I am very much not. The cottage is so small. It has seemed so large around me without my coven, and now it feels like I can’t breathe without touching him.
Even though we have not touched. I am very aware of such details.
