Chapter 12 #3
Rising, I make my way to the kitchen. I examine what she purchased at the store with all three of us in mind.
It still makes my heart swell that she took both Calida and I into account while she shopped.
Sometimes, the smallest kindnesses are the most telling.
As far as she’s concerned, we’re two strangers in a strange land.
She has no idea what the offering of food, that consideration, would mean to both of us, to say nothing of the offering of her home.
I go through the icebox and pull out the vegetables she’s purchased. I think I can make a decent salad of this, provided she has some sort of salad bowl. Some rummaging in her cupboards yields a bowl big enough for what I have in mind.
I chop the various leafy things she has on hand, hoping in an offhand way that they all can go together and that I’m not about to make a fool of myself. Calida will have no interest in this — it’s not furry or squealy — but I’m hoping that since she bought it, it means she likes it.
After some hit and miss with the flame on this contraption, I manage to cook the meat she’s purchased.
Calidas gets only the barest hint of heat, as she prefers her meat bloody.
I take a plate from the cupboard – I watched her closely last night — and put the barely warmed steak on it.
Placing it on the floor, I call for Calida with my mind.
‘Foods on,’ I say.
‘About time,’ she replies.
Spoiled brat.
Going back to the kitchen, I eye the bag of potatoes she put on the counter. These were always her favorite. Looking around, I realize she has nowhere for me to cook them. There has to be something.
I spy a door on the cooking box I used to cook the meat. It has a power and temperature button. How hard can this be?
I set it to what I feel is an appropriate number and throw them inside. While they are cooking, I wrap the finished meat in the weird tin paper I spotted last night. That should keep everything warm until Ash comes back to the world. The potatoes will need time to cook anyway.
Feeling like everything is under control, I go back to the book I borrowed.
So far, there’s a human female who appears to be interested in at least two different men and I feel like I am about to get an education.
Is this a widespread thing? Do many women want multiple men?
Maybe it’s a human thing? Then again, Fae Females are a mystery on a good day, so it’s possible they also have these desires. It just… sounds like so much work.
For her, I mean. Really, for the men, it may be half the work. I don’t think I could do it, though. I’m not built for sharing, especially not my female.
I go back to the story, resolutely ignoring Ash who has taken to muttering to herself.
I assume she’s either stuck or the story isn’t cooperating the way she’d hoped.
Either way, I’m reluctant to make myself known and pull her back to the here and now.
If I did so, she might have questions, want me to fill in her story holes and, based solely on what she’s said up until now, I’m almost positive she’s writing about home.
In the back of my mind, I wonder how that’s possible. The aftermath of the battle, the powers that were in play… she shouldn’t remember anything. Her reaction to me confirms that she doesn’t. But then, how is she writing about the battle, about Goira, at all?
The Gods and their fucking balances. While none of the wise women in Goira will tell me exactly what happened, it’s obvious that the consequences of her wielding the type of power she did in that final battle had disastrous consequences.
There’s no other explanation for how Ash came to be here.
She’s living in the mortal world as Casie, with no recollection of her life, our life.
She’s living as a human, working in a bookshop and feeling inferior.
While my powers have never been even close to hers, I do have the ability to detect the emotions of those around us and Ash is spending entirely too much time feeling less than.
The trouble is, I can’t detect if she feels that way in general or if it’s due to what she sees as her inability to write.
Her lack of memory may prove difficult with the timeline I’ve been given. If she isn’t able to remember in time… if I don’t fix this by the deadline, then we’re all fucked.
Suddenly, it smells like something is on fire. Shitfuckdamn.
I lurch to my feet to investigate, noting that Ash is still engrossed in her machine and story. Great. Maybe I can salvage this without looking like a total asshole.
The second I open the door, a large plume of smoke escapes. And, of course, Ash chooses that moment to look up and start paying attention. Sure, she can’t acknowledge me when I’m looking good, but has no problem focusing when I’ve created an inadvertent shit show.
Peering through the haze, I note that the potatoes are small black lumps by now. Ash shoves me aside and closes the door.
“What the actual fuck?” she demands.
I’d forgotten how sexy she is when she’s flustered, but force myself to focus on the problem at hand.
I glare at the contraption, oddly offended. “I’m generally a very good cook.”
“Clearly you would excel at smoking!”
I look at Ash and can’t help the hint of power I feel rolling through me. I’m sure it’s reflected in my eyes. Shit. I’m embarrassed, amused, and would give pretty much everything to hug her into me right now but despite the kiss last night, I’m pretty sure it’s too soon.
“This thing is defective!” I snarl, in my own defense.
“Oddly, I’ve never had any trouble with it!”
Damn it. I look down. I was just trying to do something nice, for Gods sake. Besides, I have always been the better cook of the two of us.
I hear Ash sigh. “What is this?”
Struggling against the embarrassment, I try to explain myself. She needs to eat. She’s already lost a lot of her muscle mass in the time she’s been gone and she’s never going to gain it back if she isn’t eating appropriately. She always did need a keeper.
She’s studying the kitchen and I can feel the blood rushing into my face. I have no doubt I am blushing.
“What’s in the oven?”
“Potatoes,” I mutter. “I was trying to bake potatoes but this thing doesn’t have any instructions. Cooking over an open fire doesn’t require a temperature or a timer so…” I trail off.
“That’s okay. We have other ways to bake potatoes.”
“We do?”
“We do.”
“…can you show me?”
I feel a butterfly surge in my stomach when she takes my hand and smiles. She pulls me to the sink and shows me how to use a different box in the kitchen to make potatoes after stabbing them with a fork.
In short order, we are seated together again on the couch, with bowls of salad, steak and hot potatoes.
I watch with — fuck, those are nerves, aren’t they?
— as she cuts into her meal and takes the first bite.
She closes her eyes as she chews and lets out a little moan, then starts wiggling her shoulders, swaying side to side.
One causes a lump to rise in my throat, whilst the other causes a stirring of heat in my blood.
Not wanting to to focus on the stirring and risk my cock becoming noticeably hard, I instead focus on the sorrow I feel watching her happy food dance.
She’s done this since we were kids and fuck me, I miss this female.
I realize that I’ve never missed her more than now, when I have her right in front of me, and she has no idea who I am.
She opens her eyes and my breath catches in my throat when she smiles fully. She’s so fucking beautiful.
“This is fantastic!” She’s positively beaming at me.
I lower my eyes and focus on my own meal. “Good. Eat it while it’s hot.”
We both give our attention to our meals, while I concentrate on locking down my emotions, my impatience. My emotions are proving to be all over the place, as are my hormones, and reading that book from Betsy earlier didn’t help.
Just as I open my mouth to try to engage her in conversation, I’m interrupted.
‘Can one of you let me in, please?’
Glancing towards the window, I see Calida sitting on the ledge, her silver eyes narrowed as she stares at her dinner through the glass.
Ash puts down her utensils and rushes over to let her in.
As Calida glides in and sets upon her steak with single minded focus, a knock sounds at the door and Ash looks at me in a panic.
“What the hell? No one ever comes here.” Casting a wary look at Calida, she goes to answer the door.
Chewing thoughtfully on the last bite of my dinner, I lean back against the couch and get comfortable, ready to be amused. Unlike Ash, I’ve already detected who is on the other side of that door.