Chapter 15 Rowan #2
“No,” Naomi moaned, her arms crossing over that cute middle of hers. “Behave yourself, stomach. I was in the middle of being sexy!”
God, wasn’t she? I needed to remember that even though my girlfriend was a latent shifter, she still needed to eat way more than a human and more often.
I definitely needed to focus on cooking lessons. Because my partner was never going to go hungry if I could help it.
“It’s okay.” I kissed the top of her head. “There will be plenty of time for that later. For now, why don’t you show me what smells so delicious?”
That settled her, and I was glad. I never wanted Naomi to feel bad for her natural, bodily reactions. Especially since they were a cheat sheet for me to learn her tells.
“It’s okay if you don’t like it,” she said as she walked into the kitchen. “I won’t be insulted. We all have taste buds for a reason.”
“I know I’ll love it.”
Naomi nodded absently. I didn’t take offense at that.
She was obviously nervous, and though I hated that she was feeling that way, I found it endearing that she’d wanted to make a special dinner for me.
I had no idea what I’d done to deserve it, since she was the one who’d come to my rescue, but I wasn’t going to question her.
She opened the sliding door that led to her small kitchen, and the deliciously indulgent scents quadrupled, hitting me right in the face like the world’s most delectable sledgehammer.
Abruptly, I was transported to the past. Still a young man and warrior protecting my family, warding off ne’er-do-wells and British raiders who’d abandoned all civility just because they occupied our nation.
Back to a time when there would be food on the table and good conversation to be had as soon as I walked through the humble doors of the little farmhouse.
“Did… did you make abgoosht?” I asked, more than a bit incredulous. The aromatics were carrying me through a maelstrom of nostalgia, pulling up so many memories that I’d accidentally sent to the very fringes of my recollection.
Palwasha usually cooked for the family, but for one of her birthdays, my adoptive brother and I had made that very dish for her, wanting her to know she was indeed celebrated and worth every effort.
Naturally, it hadn’t been as good, but I still remembered how she wept and praised her god that she was so blessed.
Once, when I was a teen and overcome with a terrible sickness that left me bedridden for multiple weeks, she’d made abgoosht when I was recovered enough to eat something other than broth.
“Yeah, I hope that’s okay. Do you not like it?”
Emotions surged through me, stealing my words, so I simply wrapped my arms around the incredible woman in front of me and held her as tenderly as I could.
Although I’d loved my adopted family and cherished my time as a human, I was realizing I’d let so many of my memories and experiences with them fade into background noise in my story.
They were far too kind, too lovely, and too formative for me to have done that, no matter how long I lived.
“I love it,” I murmured finally, closing my eyes and just letting the flashes of memory take over me. I saw more name days, more anniversaries. More sicknesses and injuries. I saw laughter and tears around our table, and nights out under the stars.
And Naomi had given me all of that.
“You haven’t even tasted it yet!” Naomi protested, but I didn’t care.
I held her a bit tighter. “I don’t need to. I mean, I want to, more than anything, and I will once you serve it, but thank you, Naomi. Really. From the bottom of my heart.”
I felt her heartbeat pick up in my grip, and her warmth spread through my arms. I loved how reactive she was. I loved everything about her.
It was tempting to keep holding her, but I didn’t want anything to burn after she’d put so much effort into things, so I let her go.
“You okay?” she asked once we were a few inches apart.
“I’m more than okay,” I promised, dropping a kiss on her forehead. I’d been covering her in kisses since I arrived, but it wasn’t my fault she was insanely adorable and irresistible. “Where would you like me while you finish up in here? Do you want company?”
“Actually, do you wanna sit at the table and talk to me while I finish up and plate the food?”
“As you wish.”
I almost floated to the small table that only fit two chairs in the little nook on the other side of the kitchen. I was struggling to believe it was real. It was like I’d walked into the most wonderful dream.
I couldn’t wait to tell Iko about all of this, maybe take him some leftovers if there were any. We were due a lunch anyway.
“If you end up liking this, there are a few other recipes I want to try,” Naomi said, putting her apron back on.
Holy hell, that made her even sexier.
“I’m happy to try whatever you want,” I answered, glancing around at her space. There were certain little touches around the apartment that seemed pointed in the most loving way.
Every single window had blackout curtains, complete with what looked like hook and loop strips against the wall to get a proper seal.
That seemed to be an unusual thing for a diurnal person to have.
Maybe it was egotistical, but I couldn’t help think it was for me.
Just in case I wanted to spend the night and sleep through the day, which I definitely had been hoping for.
Then, on the far wall of the living room, I could see a blank spot where a cross had been hanging, as the paint was sun-bleached all around it except in that distinctive shape.
“Did you remove that for me?” I asked.
“Remove what?”
I pointed, and her eyes followed my finger to the spot.
“Oh, I didn’t even notice that mark. But, yeah, I did. Is that okay?”
“That was very sweet of you, but we aren’t affected by religious symbols like that. I know there’s a lot of conflicting information out there, but we do that to protect ourselves.”
“Protect yourselves?” Naomi said as she grabbed two plates from the cupboard.
“Yes. Since we’re so vulnerable during the day with practically being locked in sleep and lethally affected by sunlight, we often leak fake weaknesses to mitigate that.”
“Wow, I don’t know if I would have ever thought of that. It seems like everyone and their mom knows about wolf shifters being allergic to silver and wolfsbane but none of them know about bears or any of the big cat shifters’ weaknesses. Let alone a harpy’s, or a changeling’s.”
To be frank, I hadn’t even thought about a big cat shifter since I’d left my home to travel to America. I knew there were quite a few communities in Sub-Saharan Africa and Asia, but that was about it.
“Strange which information spread and which didn’t,” I agreed. “We all know gorgons aren’t the biggest fans of mirrors, although it doesn’t actually turn them to stone. Just repels them.”
“And with cyclops you go for the eye.”
That gave me pause, because how could it not? “Why would you mention that specifically?”
“It’s fairly known in even human culture. You know, from Greek mythology and all that.”
She didn’t know about Iko, so I wasn’t sure why that had thrown me.
I guessed because cyclops were so rare in the world and Iko was the only blind one I’d ever met that it was difficult not to feel like she was directly referencing him.
Most vampires didn’t give a second thought about ever being disabled because the only real lasting injuries we could have were burns and losing limbs, and even that was pretty rare.
“Did I say something wrong?” she murmured when I was quiet.
“No, not at all. Actually, my best friend is a blind cyclops who lost his eye in a fight.”
“What? Really?”
I nodded and her expression grew adorably shocked.
“Holy shit, what are the chances?”
“I’m not sure, but it is a bit uncanny. What’s even more uncanny is how we met.”
“Ooh, tell me!”
I told her about the speakeasy, our mutual love of cardigans and soft fabrics, and the few adventures we went on before Iko officially retired from the rambling life.
She carried our plates to the table, and somehow the scents intensified. Enough so that I actually felt drool start to pool in my mouth, which hadn’t happened with physical food since… I couldn’t even remember.
“I really can’t believe this,” I said as I looked at the colorful stew, the orange of the liquid contrasting beautifully with the yellow of the potatoes, the red of the tomatoes, and the bright flecks of green coriander that I had never quite adjusted to calling cilantro.
It was a painting of flavors I hadn’t realized I’d missed.
How had I let myself forget? “I haven’t thought about this in decades. ”
Once more, Naomi flushed as she sat down across from me.
“Well, I wanted to make something special. You had a really rough go of it earlier this week, so I looked up comfort foods from your home country. I wasn’t sure how accurate it was, considering, you know, you were there over eighty years ago, but I’m happy to hear that this is a dish you enjoyed. I hope I did it justice.”
“Judging by the smell alone, you would have made Palwasha incredibly proud.”
Naomi’s eyes widened, tears forming in the corners, and that’s when I also realized she was just as out of her depth as I was. Judging by what she’d told me about dating as a latent shifter, she’d never gotten this far in any relationship.
“Thank you, Rowan. Really. And I read this is usually served with a bread called sangak, but I had the worst time finding a recipe. If you like this, maybe I can make it again with that? A couple of articles said that it’s soaked in the broth and served as a first course called, uh…
I hope I’m pronouncing this right, but tileet? ”