I dipped a clean spoon into the brownie batter and held it out to him. “It’s extra chocolatey.”
He accepted the spoon, his large fingers brushing mine in a way that usually sent a pleasant shiver through me. But now heseemed almost to be avoiding my gaze as he tasted the chocolate mixture.
“Good,” he said simply, setting the spoon in the sink.
I frowned slightly. “Just good? Not ‘exquisite’ or ‘delectable’ or whatever fancy word you usually use?”
A slight flicker of amusement crossed his features, but it was quickly replaced by that same neutral expression. “It’s very good, Clara.”
I poured the batter into the prepared pan, my mind whirling as I tried to identify what had changed in the last ten minutes. Everything had been fine—more than fine—in our texts earlier. I’d been excited about seeing him tomorrow, about spending the evening in his labyrinthine home.
And then he’d shown up unexpectedly, encountered Mark, and turned into… this. Silent, withdrawn Rion.
Oh.
The realization hit me with sudden clarity. He’s jealous.
The thought was so unexpected that I nearly laughed out loud. Rion—magnificent, intelligent, physically imposing Rion—was jealous of Mark? Ordinary, human Mark with his ordinary human charm?
But as I slid the brownies into the oven, I began to see it from his perspective. He’d arrived to surprise me, only to find me chatting and laughing with an attractive neighbor—one who was completely normal, who could walk down the street without causing a stir, who didn’t have to hide his true nature from the world.
I turned to face him, wiping my hands on my apron. “So… that surprise visit. It was a nice thought.”
He leaned against my counter, careful as always not to put his full weight on my furniture. “It seemed like you were already entertaining.”
The slight edge to his voice confirmed my suspicion. Beneath his controlled exterior, something was simmering—not anger exactly, but definitely discontent.
“Mark’s just a neighbor,” I said carefully. “He needed a ladder. Ironic, right?”
He made a noncommittal sound, his dark eyes studying a point somewhere over my shoulder.
“He’s the one I was trying to text that day,” I continued. “When I accidentally texted you instead.”
“I gathered as much.” His voice had that low rumble again, like distant thunder. “You seemed… friendly.”
I raised an eyebrow. “We’re neighbors. Being friendly is kind of the default.”
He shifted slightly, his massive shoulders tensing further. “Of course.”
I set the timer for the brownies and wiped a smear of chocolate from the counter, trying to decide how to navigate this unexpected jealousy. Part of me was undeniably flattered—the idea that someone as extraordinary as Rion could feel threatened by ordinary Mark was both surprising and oddly thrilling.
But another part of me felt a flicker of annoyance. Did he really think I’d be swooning over Mark after everything he and I had shared? After the way my entire world had expanded since meeting him?
“You know,” I said, keeping my tone light, “if I’d actually managed to text Mark that day instead of you, I’d probably still be using that rickety old ladder at the library. And we never would have met.”
“A fortunate typo,” he said, with just enough warmth returning to his voice to give me hope.
“Very fortunate,” I agreed, moving closer to him. “Life-changing, even.”
He met my eyes finally, and I could see the complex emotions swirling in their depths—uncertainty, possessiveness, and something deeper that made my heart beat faster.
“He seemed… interested in you,” he said carefully.
I shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m not interested in him.”
“No?” There was a vulnerability in the question that tugged at my heart.
“No,” I said firmly. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m kind of into minotaurs these days. Specifically, one minotaur. With amazing horns and a talent for baking biscuits.”
