Page 187 of The Dawn of the Cursed Queen

He laughed, grabbing some green stalk thing and peeling it. “Yes, all fresh, all new.”

I held my hands up in mock defense, the sleeves of his shirt sliding down my arms. “I’m just saying. You were poisoned before, and it’s always good to be safe.”

He finished preparing his food and tossed one leg, then the other, over the bench to sit next to me.

“What is that?” I asked as he dug his fork into his bowl and took a big bite.

He swallowed before moving it toward me. “You remember that dish you made for us on Rashearim?”

“During our three-day sexathon?” I said. “Yes.”

He tipped his head almost bashfully. “It’s the closest I could get, similar vegetables, more or less.”

It looked lackluster at best, but his effort was adorable. My eyes cut to his. “I didn’t know you liked it so much?”

He nodded and pulled the bowl toward him, taking another big bite.

“I’ll have to make you more,” I said as I watched him. “Without the cheese, you’re missing a key component.”

His eyes rolled dramatically, and he laughed. “Well, cheese was not on my list of things to get when I was away.”

I stroked the short hairs at the base of his neck, that warmth in my chest spreading once more. No, it wasn’t, but a home, a ring, and an entire marriage ceremony were.

“This is sad,” I said.

“What?” he asked, his fork halfway to his mouth.

“You are never allowed to do the shopping, ever.”

His laugh almost made him choke, and I rubbed my hand across his back. He shook his head at me before taking another bite. I rubbed small circles on his back, my gaze catching on my new ring.

“You know, when a couple gets married on Onuna, the wife often takes the husband’s last name.”

“Mm-hmm.” His eyes cut to mine as he continued to eat.

I shifted, turning on the bench to face him and leaning my cheek against my hand. “So what’s yours?”

He turned to look at me, the moonlight caressing his skin and glinting off his hair. Oh gods, this man was beautiful. I wondered if he would ever not take my breath away. “You don’t want mine,” he said, a small grin tipping his lips.

“I want your everything.”

He shifted next to me, and I could see the love in his eyes. “Dianna Unirson? No.”

“That’s your last name?” I frowned. “Makes sense, I suppose, to carry on the legacy so forth and so on.”

“Exactly,” he said, digging his fork in once more. “So let’s carry yours.”

My head reared back as he continued to eat, as if he didn’t just say something monumental.

“Mine?”

He nodded, stirring his food. “Yeah. What if I took your last name?”

“My last name isn’t real,” I said softly, even as my heart squeezed at his question.

His brows furrowed, and he lowered his fork. “Who told you that?”

I shrugged. “No one, but in case you forgot, Gabby picked those for us. My real name—”

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