Page 46 of Fallen Star

“Fascinating.” His smile widens. “I wasn’t aware humans possessed the ability to walk while horizontal. Tell me—is that a new evolutionary development?”

“Maybe I’m just an overachiever,” I shoot back, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Clearly.” He stretches lazily, like a cat basking in the sun, and props himself up on one elbow. “Though next time, maybe keep your achievements on your side of the bed. Or don’t. I certainly didn’t mind.”

I grit my teeth and push down the flush creeping up my neck. “Trust me, I will. And if you touch me, I’ll?—”

“Stab me?” he interrupts, raising an eyebrow. “I think we’ve established how that misguided attempt would end.”

My glare could probably shoot a laser beam through his forehead. “Don’t tempt me.”

Aerix chuckles again, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

But before I can come up with a retort, my stomach betrays me, letting out a loud, grumbling protest.

He rises in one fluid motion, moving to the cabinets near the small kitchen area. There, he begins pulling out various items—dried herbs, preserved vegetables, something that might have once been bread, and a few others.

“Really?” I eye the sad collection of ingredients. “That’s what passes for breakfast in a five-star bunker?”

“My apologies.” His voice drips with sarcasm. “I’d order room service, but I imagine it would take a while.”

Shrugging off his comment, I move to inspect what he’s found, my mind cataloging possibilities of what I can do with it. The herbs are decent—thyme, rosemary, and garlic. The vegetables, while preserved, still have life in them. And that bread... well, it’s seen better days, but I worked with worse during the summer I volunteered at the soup kitchen at church.

“Move,” I say, nudging him aside to dig through the cabinets. “Do you have a way to start a fire?”

He pulls a flint and steel from a drawer, holding it up between two fingers. “I can manage that much. The question is whether you can do anything with this sorry lot.”

“Challenge accepted.”

While he sets to work building the fire, I keep my focus on assembling ingredients.

Once the fire is going, I set a dented iron skillet on the heat and add a splash of oil I found in a dusty bottle. Next, I chop the vegetables and toss them into the pan, and they hiss and pop, smelling somewhat decent.

“What exactly are you making?” Aerix leans against the counter, watching me as if I’m casting a spell.

“Improvising.” I slice the bread into thin cubes, rub it with the garlic herb mixture I’ve thrown together, and arrange it on a flat piece of stone to toast near the fire.

Within minutes, I’ve turned the meager ingredients into a rustic open-faced sandwich. Toasted bread topped with sautéed vegetables, shredded meat, and a drizzle of herb-infused oil that adds just enough flavor to make it feel intentional.

“Where did you learn to do this?” he asks.

“I volunteered at a soup kitchen for a bit.” I shrug, adding the final touches. “We didn’t have much to work with, but I had a knack for improvising.”

“Very interesting,” he says, studying me in a way that makes me look away and refocus on arranging the food. “Shall we eat in bed?”

“Absolutely not.” I grab a plate and move to the table, putting as much space between us as possible. “I’ve already spent enough time in that bed with you.”

“Yet you seemed so comfortable there earlier...”

“One more word about that,” I warn, pointing my fork at him, “and I’ll show you exactly how creative I can get with those cooking knives.”

He doesn’t bother to respond. Instead, he settles into the chair opposite me, leaning back with infuriating ease and studying the plate I’ve set before him.

Finally, he picks up a fork and takes a bite, surprise flickering across his face. “I have to admit,” he says, “you’re more talented in the kitchen than most of the fae I know.”

I arch my brow, unable to resist a little teasing. “Maybe I added a little something extra into it.”

“Trying to poison me?” He smirks, clearly amused. “I hate to disappoint, but fae aren’t affected by human toxins.”

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