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Daven’s hand slid to the back of Ryneth’s neck and pulled him flush against his chest. “It won’t,” he said. “Now stop worrying. Let’s eat something.”

Daven set the pan on the stove and reached for the oil, grinning to himself when he felt Ryneth watching him from across the island.

“You can cook?” Ryneth asked.

Daven glanced up, one brow lifting. “Does that surprise you?”

Ryneth flushed. “Maybe a little. But it’s sexy.”

“Sexy, huh?” Taking out the fresh vegetables he’d had delivered after Ryneth left that morning, he set them on the counter. Granted, his fridge was usually empty, but he’d wanted to impress Ryneth.

Anything to be fucking sexy for him.

Always Ryneth.

He’d become the center of Daven’s life in such a short span of time.

Ryneth shrugged, but his blush had spread to his throat. “I just didn’t take you for someone who can cook.”

“That’s because you don’t know much about me yet, baby.” Daven grinned. “You know how big and hard my cock is, and how good I can fuck you, and⁠—”

“Daven, stop.” Ryneth threw a pencil his way, which Daven barely dodged.

“Why?” Daven batted his lashes as he turned to stir in his pan with a grin. “I got you another surprise.”

“Yeah?”

Ryneth sounded… excited. Kid-like excited. That was new. Apparently the way to easing the snappy pressure in his aethera was by showering him with surprises.

Daven could do that.

“But you have to help me with the food first. Can you cut the carrots?”

Ryneth huffed and started for the drawers. “Of course I can. I used to help Mara cook, you know.”

“No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me about it?” Opening the fridge, Daven took out two beers and handed Ryneth one. He leaned back against the counter and took a swig.

“There isn’t much to say. I used to help her cook, is all.”

He became defensive again. Daven wondered why.

There were so many things he wondered about Ryneth.

“What’s your favorite dish?” he asked after they’d been cutting and stirring for some time.

Ryneth looked up. “What?”

“Your favorite dish.” Shouldering Ryneth gently aside, Daven grabbed the tray Ryneth had cut the carrots and onions from and put them into the pan to fry with the fish.

Ryneth let out a dry chuckle. “Daven, in case you hadn’t noticed, I didn’t really grow up in a family with much cuisine.”

Daven heard the sharp edge to his voice. “I did notice. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a favorite dish.”

“There was only one dish,” Ryneth said. “Mara made the same stew almost every night. I used to call it Mara’s stew.”

One dish? Okay, that was not what he’d expected.

Taking a swig of beer, Daven wiped his mouth with his sleeve, buying himself a moment to think. He suddenly felt like an incredible asshole. Not for asking, but for living in a world where a favorite dish had never even needed to be a question.