I leaned against the counter and watched him work. His shoulders shifted when he stirred. He tasted the sauce before adding more of something from a small bowl.
He was making human food for me. Learning recipes and wearing silly aprons and trying.
“Laina?”
“Yes?”
“You’re looking at me with an unusual expression.”
“I’m appreciating you.”
His ears darkened. “Ah.”
We ate at the table, pasta served in bowls that were too large for me but perfect for him. The dish tasted amazing. It wasn’t quite authentic, but it was made with care, and that mattered more.
“This is really good,” I said.
“You sound surprised.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Those feel similar.”
“They’re completely different.” I wound more pasta around my fork. “One is about expectations. The other is about recognition of skill.”
“I’ll accept the recognition.”
After dinner, we washed dishes together as if we’d been doing this for years instead of days. When the last dish was put away,I dried my hands on the towel and turned to find him watching me.
“What are you thinking?” I asked, stepping closer.
“I’m considering whether I should tell you what I’m thinking or whether I should keep it to myself until the moment is more appropriate.”
“Tell me.”
He backed me against the counter, his hands coming up to bracket me on either side, caging me in.
“I’ve been thinking about this morning,” he said. “About waking with you in my arms. Watching you release Cooper. How you look when you’re excited to learn something new.”
My pulse kicked up. “And what have you concluded?”
“That I would like more mornings like that one. More evenings like this. All of you, in whatever way you’re willing to give.”
I lifted my chin. “I don’t want to wait anymore. I want this. Us. Whatever we’re building. I’m done being afraid. I don’t want to hold back because of what might go wrong. I want to move forward with you.”
“Are you certain?”
“Completely.”
He searched my face for whatever he needed to see there. Whatever he found must have satisfied him because he leaned down and kissed me.
This wasn’t like the kisses we’d shared before. Those had been questions, explorations, careful tests of how far we could go. This was an answer, a declaration that we’d both arrived at the same conclusion.
“In the kingdom,” I said, “when an orc wants someone, they claim them.”
He nodded. “With witnesses and gifts and formal declarations.”
“We don’t have witnesses.”
