Page 48 of Chosen By Swift

“I’ll be there.”

“I’ll send you a message with the details,” Swift said.

“Sounds good.”

After he left, Swift explained, “It’s a taboo to visit a new couple during their first few days together.”

“Oh.” She blanched. “I didn’t know. It wasn’t in the pamphlets I read, or I guess I haven’t read that far yet.”

“It’s fine,” Swift assured her. “Rampage could use a good meal.”

“What happened to him?”

“He and his crew were marooned on a frozen wasteland planet for eight months.”

Her eyes widened. “Eight months?”

He nodded somberly. “He’s lucky to be alive.”

“He seems very thin,” she said, already wondering how much butter she was allowed to buy. “Do I have time to bake bread?”

“I don’t know how long that takes.”

“Well, it depends on how fast the dough rises, but I think our kitchen is warm enough that it won’t take more than an hour.” She walked with purpose now, moving through the aisles to grab the ingredients for a nice dinner, a breakfast tomorrow and something light for lunch. Swift had ordered what he called a “Kitchen In A Box” that had been delivered before he had Grabbed her. It contained pantry basics, allegedly. She had a bone to pick with the person who decided what those basics were considering there wasn’t a single scoop of yeast in it.

By the time she was done shopping, Swift had two baskets in his hands. At the front of the shop, they bagged their own groceries in reusable bags. When she asked about paying, he explained the items were scanned as they went into the baskets and deducted from his account after they passed through the double doors. She couldn’t even wrap her head around how that worked, but it seemed to make perfect sense to Swift. It was another reminder of how different their lives were.

In the elevator, they were joined by two other couples. One of the men was very friendly, but the other scowled and kept a hand clamped on the back of his wife’s neck. Was he like that all the time? Gripping and controlling?

Maybe I have it wrong?

She cast a furtive glance at the woman’s face and noticed how relaxed and calm she looked. Did she like being held that way? Being publicly claimed? Did it calm her? Help her feel safe and protected?

Alys pondered that question as she left the elevator at Swift’s side. When they were inside their home, she began to unpack the groceries. Swift hovered nearby. “Do you want my help?”

Her first instinct was to tell him no. She had cooked thousands of meals and didn’tneedhelp, but it would be nice to have company. “Sure.” She smiled at him. “Help me put these away and then we’ll make bread.”

As she handed over their groceries, he placed them where she wanted them. There was hardly any storage in their home, only a few cabinets and shelves for a pantry. She would have to adjust her mindset toward meal planning and stockpiling. Not to mention cutting back on servings per meal.

“What are you thinking about so hard?” Swift asked as he leaned back against the counter and watched her measure out yeast into the warm water. “The recipe?”

“No,” she replied with a short laugh. “I could make bread in my sleep.”

“Then what?”

“How many normal person sized servings you eat in a meal,” she answered. “I was thinking about how I’m used to cooking enough food for at least a dozen hungry bellies. You probably eat as much as all of my younger brothers combined so paring my recipes back to five or six servings should be all right.”

“If you cook half as good as you fuck, I won’t leave a single crumb on my plate.”

“Swift!” She swatted him with a dish towel as she blushed with mortification. “You can’t say things like that!”

“Why not?” He moved behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. He nuzzled the curve ofher neckand placed ticklish kisses on her skin. “It’s true.”

“Be that as it may,” she protested, her face hot and her heart racing. “It’s hardly appropriate conversation for the kitchen.”

He grunted against her neck. “I suppose that means bending you over this counter right now is out of the question.”

She gulped at the image of him making love to her right out here in the kitchen. It was an image that sent a steak of needful heat through her body. Brazenly, she said, “Ask me again after we finish the bread dough.”

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