Page 11 of Bred By Fafnir

My lips quirk.

“I lovepizza. Thank you, Fafnir. I can’t believe you have a food replicator! Mom had always saved for one back home, but something always came up.”

He glances at the large device, looking sorely out of place in the cozy warmth of his home. “I was worried the food here would not be of your liking. I wanted you to be comfortable.”

“You got it for me?” Holy hell, those are expensive, but then again, he did just pay a ton of money forme, so I guess that makes sense.

He grunts.

When I get beside him, taking the plate off the warmer, I give him a bright smile. My mouth is already watering. He’d replicated pepperoni pizza, my favorite. “That means a lot, thank you.”

His eyes widen a fraction. The sound of groaning metal makes my head snap down. The handle of the pan he’s holding is now twisted and bent. He’s cooking some kind of meat and greens in a smoky lard,but it pops. I squeal, shoving away just in time to miss being doused in hot oil, but Fafnir’s large hands get coated.

He doesn’t flinch, simply regards what he’s done with an even bigger scowl.

I all but toss the forgotten pizza to the counter. “Fafnir!” It comes out as a scold and not the concern it's meant to be, as my suddenly shaky hands grab a nearby rag and using it as a pot holder to move the pan away from the heat. He grabs for it, but I swat him away.

Swiveling toward the sink, I flick on the cold water before gripping his wrist and hauling him toward it. His skin hot and slippery from the oil. I know logically I can't haul the giant male anywhere, but he comes all the same. His hooves are quieter here than they were at the station as I guide his hands underneath the stream. I’m fussing over the red, angry state of his tanned flesh when he finally speaks. “Lenora, I am fine. We heal quickly.”

“Oil burns are serious!” My heart is racing, something is churning in my gut. Like dread, but not the kind from earlier today.Discomfort.

Worry.

Suddenly, my small hands drifting over his large, rough ones in soft, assessing passes is too much. My attention snaps back to the stove instead, tutting as I rush to it, flipping the strange-looking meat onto a waiting plate although it looks like it was well on its way to burnt before I got here.

The sound of the water cutting off has me whirling again, my finger pointed at his chest. “Twenty minutes, or at least until the pain stops or they’ll blister.”

“Female, I am fine. I do not need you fretting over me like a kit.” He growls.

You don’t need me—

Breathe.

In and out.

Oh, fuck it.

My hands meet my hips, and I glare up at him. “Then perhaps you should avoid burning yourself like one.”

He makes a huffing sound deep in his chest, his glare deepening with mine, but his eyes flame with a different kind of heat. “It was your fault.”

I sputter. “My fault!? How could you snapping a pan like a horned tanned version ofHulkpossibly be my fault!?”

“You weredistracting.”

My lips fall open, the anger rushing out of me as his eyes make another lazy path down my body.

“Oh.”

He sighs, heading toward the stove, leaving me there deflated and… squirmy.

He finds me distracting.

Don’t smile. Don’t smile. Don’t smile.

When my brain catches up, I rush to him to help, a tiny yelp leaving my throat when the man simply grips my waist, depositing me on the counter and out of his way instead, scowling at my bare feet. I bite my lip to hide the wince from my bruised tailbone.

“Do humans not wear foot coverings indoors?”

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