Chapter 35 Ginger
Ginger
Arumbling growl broke me from my slumber.
I bolted upright, my heart launching into a gallop.
I reached for Bram, but he evaded my grasp and dashed for the main room of my cottage.
So much for being protective.
Reluctantly, I followed him.
My heart thundered even harder when I determined the source of the intrusion.
Shade was calmly sitting at my dining table, a steaming cup of tea in front of him and another sitting at the other end of the table—in front of the chair I always occupied.
I swallowed the scream threatening to erupt through my throat.
“Gods! What are you doing here?” I hissed.
“It is just me, you do not need to invoke the masses,” he chastised. “I do not like their names on your mouth. Only mine.”
My brow furrowed. Brambleby, to my utter shock and horror, curled up by Shade’s feet and settled in like he was familiar with the intruder.
“What are you doing here?” I asked again.
He gestured to the mugs. “I brought tea. Your favorite.”
There was a lot to unpack there. I braced my hands on the back of the chair. “You broke into my cottage. I was still sleeping! And how do you know it’s my favorite?”
“Sit, Ginger. It will get cold.”
“You want me to sit and act like this is normal?”
“What is so abnormal about this? We agreed to have tea tomorrow. It is now tomorrow. Is it not?”
“There is so much that is abnormal about this situation,” I grumbled under my breath, but I did as he asked.
I sat down, uncomfortably aware of the fact that I was in my sleep clothes. My hair was probably a tangled wreck, and he looked annoyingly perfect.
Dirty and windswept, sure, but in a deliciously tousled way. Not a crumbled and creased way like I surely looked.
I grabbed the mug to keep my hands busy. The scent of elderberry drifted up to meet me and I glanced at Shade suspiciously. It really was my favorite flavor. “Do I want to know how you guessed, is this some talent of the Gods?” I asked.
He examined my face. “I am learning that I have many talents.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
He inclined his head, dropping his gaze to smile lightly at Brambleby as he immediately started snoring. “I do not wish to say things that will upset you.”
I huffed out a breath. “Fine. Start talking about something else, then. You said your memories were returning?”
He drummed his fingers against his mug. “I admit, I do not remember much.”
“But what do you remember? Why are you here? Why are you so—so obsessed with me for no reason?”
“Three questions at once. But I have already answered the second, if you recall. I will start with the first. I remember bits and pieces—I remember that I am Erebus, yes. I have been—” he struggled to find the words “—stuck somewhere. Another realm. Those details are painful to recall. I was not alone, where I was. It was very dark.”
I nodded. “Okay… how long have you been back?”
“A few weeks, I believe. I arrived not long before Merry Day.”
“What’s the first thing you remember upon your… arrival?” I didn’t know what else to call it.
“Showing up at your door.”
My brows flew up. “That’s the first thing you remember? Just showing up at my door, declaring me as your wife? Incorrectly, might I add.”
“Yes. Something… led me to you. Instinctively. I did not have any memories then, just this knowing.”
“A knowing.”
“Yes, that is what I said.”
I bristled. “I don’t understand,” I admitted.
He sighed. “It is hard to explain. I simply knew. And it was all that I knew.”
“That you want me to be your wife.”
“That you were mine. That you are mine. That you will be mine. It is undeniable. My mate. My wife. My destiny. Simply mine.”
“Do I have a say in this?”
He nodded. “Of course. For I am yours just as much as you are mine.”
“We don’t even know each other.”
“That is easy to remedy. Let us learn about each other. Is that not what we are doing now?”
“That’s not the point!” I took a sip of my tea to quell my rising frustration. It was delicious, of course, but I was annoyed again at how he seemed to know my favorite without me telling him first.
He watched me patiently.
“Are you going to run?” I asked, not sure if I wanted to hear the answer. I braced myself.
My emotions were confusing me.
“No,” he said with conviction. “I am no coward. I can handle the wrath of a mortal King.”
“Mortal,” I mused. “And what does that make you? Immortal?”
“If you would like to call it that. I believe so, but I have not tested the theory.”
“An immortal god,” I mused.
“Yes.”
“No offense, but you look so,” I waved my hand helplessly. “Normal.”
He nodded slowly. “I admit, I do not think I have always been this way. I cannot say for sure since my mind is still muddled but I think I used to be different. I used to be… more.”
“Okay. Okay. And all of you are back?”
“All of the gods? Yes, that is a safe assumption. If I am here, they must be, also.”
I swallowed back nausea. “And what does this mean for the realm?”
“I do not know. Perhaps it means nothing.”
“Gods have been gone for thousands of years.”
He grimaced at that. “Thousands, you say?”
I nodded. “Thousands. Or at least that’s what the old texts say.”
“Fates,” he mused. “It did not feel like that long. Or perhaps it felt longer. Like all of time itself.”
My stomach interrupted our conversation by growling loudly. His eyes jumped to my torso and then back to my face. “You are hungry.”
I stood, embarrassed. “I haven’t had breakfast yet. And are you hungry?”
He shook his head. “I have learned that I do not necessarily need to eat.”
“I thought so,” I muttered. Was there anything this god couldn't do?
I set about preparing myself breakfast. It was a welcome distraction. I cracked an egg over a pan and lit the flame on my stove, content to scramble myself an egg mash.
My breath caught when Shade drifted up behind me, leaving only a whisper of space between us.
I could feel him hovering over my shoulder, watching my movements. I suddenly felt clumsy and self-conscious.
“What are you making?” he asked quietly. His breath rustled my hair.
A shiver rolled down my spine and I squeezed my eyes shut. “Just some eggs.”
“Teach me?”
I clumsily sloshed the eggs around with a fork, tensing when the movement caused my elbow to brush against him. He didn’t back up. “You don’t eat,” I reminded.
“But you do.”
I swallowed. “You want to learn how to make food? For me?”
“Yes.”
This was crazy. Absolutely insane. The most ridiculous thing that had ever happened to me— even more ridiculous than being given a baby dragon to take care of.
And yet… I wanted to keep going. See how far it would go.
“It’s really not difficult…”
“Hmm,” he murmured, leaning even closer. His chin ghosted over my shoulder, his cheek brushing my hair.
If I leaned back even an inch, our bodies would be flush.
I stood as still as possible.
“What next?” he prompted.
“Salt, pepper, a few herbs,” I said with a strangled voice.
He reached around me, his deft fingers snatching a bundle of basil from the counter next to the stove. “This?”
“Mhm,” I confirmed. My head spun.
“Show me what comes next, Ginger.”
I swallowed past the tightness in my throat. I silently pleaded for the eggs not to burn. I knew I needed to walk to the other end of the kitchen and grab a knife, but I was reluctant to put space between us.
I reluctantly stepped to the side, and his arm pressed into my waist as I did so. My stomach lurched at the contact.
I could have sworn I heard his breath catch.
I continued on my path, retrieving the knife from the drawer, as well as a cutting board.
“Next, I chop the herbs,” I said quietly.
I turned to find Shade exactly where I had left him, gold eyes simmering as he watched me.
The basil leaves were bruised where his fingers clenched against them. I reached out nervously. My fingers trembled.
I had to tug the basil from his grasp, and when I did, he snapped from his stupor, stepping forward.
He took up entirely too much space in my small kitchen. I couldn’t breathe.
“Chop,” he echoed.
His eyes were quicksand, and I was being pulled under. “Yes.”
“Show me.”
I swallowed. “Right…”
With great effort I turned, lining the herbs up, as well as a fresh tomato. I curled my fingers into fists and begged them to be steady.
The last thing I needed was to slice a damned finger off with a god breathing down my neck.
He overwhelmed me.
Shade drifted behind me again, peering over my shoulder, bracing his hands on the counter on either side of my hips.
I was trapped.
I took two long, heavy breaths to steady myself.
“Ginger,” he said, the words a silken caress.
“Just give me a second.”
“Are you nervous? Your heart is hammering in your chest right now. I bet you can feel it in your throat, your ears…” He ghosted his fingers over my wrist. “Here.”
The contact, though feather light, nearly brought me to my knees.
I squeezed my eyes shut. “No.”
He tsked quietly. “Don’t lie to me, wife. I can feel it. Your pulse jumps when you lie.”
I couldn’t respond. After three breaths, his fingers brushed against mine.
My eyes snapped open.
“If you won’t do it, then tell me how,” he coaxed. “Teach me how to take care of you.” He pulled the knife from me, and his grip was frustratingly sure. Not a quiver to be seen.
Damned gods.
I silently panicked, wondering if he would somehow be able to sense my mental cursing. Oh, gods, would he kill me now? Strike me down for the blasphemy?
Panic took root and roared like the hungry beast she was.
My heart, impossibly, thundered even harder.
He huffed out a frustrated breath right by my ear. “What are you thinking about that’s got you so bothered?”
“Knives,” I lied.
He began chopping the herbs with surprising efficiency, without any instruction from me. The slices were neat and even. “I would kill to be able to read your mind,” he said darkly.
I choked, caught somewhere between relief and surprise. “You can’t?”
“No. Unfortunately, I am not all powerful. I don’t know if I ever have been.”
“Oh.”