Page 32 of A Kiss of Deception

He nods, moving closer.

"It's done," I whisper, more to myself than anyone else. The finality of it hits me like a physical blow.

Milkor's voice comes from behind me, low and careful. "You're safe now, Meetha. No one will find them."

"Dinner's almost ready. I hope you're hungry."

"Starving," he purrs, and the way he looks at me makes me wonder if he's talking about food at all.

I clear my throat, focusing on stirring. "Well, um, there's bread too. And I found some wine that Jarvil managed to miss."

"How domestic," Milkor teases, echoing my earlier thoughts.

I laugh. "Who would have thought?"

He comes up behind me, his presence both thrilling and comforting. "It suits you," he murmurs, his breath tickling my ear.

I lean back against him, just for a moment. "You think so?"

"Mmm," he agrees, his arms encircling my waist. "Though I prefer you wild."

Heat floods my cheeks, and I playfully swat at him with the wooden spoon. "Behave yourself. Sit," I say, gesturing to the rickety wooden chair. "Let me plate your dinner."

Milkor obeys, his silver eyes following my every move. The weight of his gaze sends shivers down my spine, but I focus on ladling the steaming stew into a bowl.

"Here," I place it before him, along with a chunk of crusty bread. "Eat."

As Milkor digs in, I can't help but stare. Even in this elven form, he's captivating. My mind wanders, imagining what his true demon form might look like. Horns? Wings? Claws?

I shake my head. All in good time, I remind myself. For now, I have to be patient.

"This is... surprisingly good," Milkor says between mouthfuls.

"Don't sound so shocked," I tease, sitting across from him. "I'm not completely useless, you know."

He smirks, tearing off a piece of bread. "I never said you were useless. Quite the opposite, in fact."

If only he knew.

The fire crackles to life,casting dancing shadows across the room. I watch Milkor's broad back as he stokes the flames, his muscles rippling beneath his shirt. The warmth spreads, chasing away the chill that's settled in my bones.

"There," he grunts, standing up and brushing his hands on his thighs. "That should do it."

I finish drying the last plate and set it aside, my movements slow and deliberate. The normalcy of the task feels surreal after what we've done.

Milkor grunts, dropping onto the couch with a heavy thud. His silver eyes reflect the firelight, giving them an otherworldly glow. There's a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

I hesitate for a moment before joining him, sitting right on his lap.

He tenses. "What are you doing?"

"Getting comfortable," I say, wiggling my hips to settle in.

His hands hover uncertainly for a moment before settling on my hips. I lean back against his chest, relishing the warmth of his body.

"This is... inappropriate," Milkor mutters, but he doesn't push me away.

I turn my head, meeting his gaze. "Says the demon who's already fucked me twice."

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