Page 39 of The Witch's Shifter
“Okay.” I turn away from Faolan to smile up at Alden. “I can help with the water.”
“Absolutely not,” Rowan says from the doorway, where he’s just closing the door against the autumn chill. “You’re five months pregnant. I’ll help with the water.”
My cheeks warm as I look between the two of them. “I’ll focus on dinner, then.”
After brushing a quick kiss against Alden’s bearded cheek—and ignoring the grumble from Faolan—I head into the kitchen, where a big pot of carrot soup is bubbling over the fire. I haven’t baked the bread yet, so I get started on that, transferring the risen dough into the bread pot and then stooping to carefully place it near to the flames, though not in them. As I rise from the kitchen floor, I start at Faolan’s sudden presence in the doorway. That’s not the first time he’s snuck up on me, whether intendingto or not. I’m still not used to how quietly he moves, especially for such a big man.
“You startled me,” I say, putting a mitted hand to my chest. He continues to linger as I grab a ladle and give the carrot soup a stir. It smells delicious, like earth and herbs with a slight undertone of sweetness.
After Lydia and James left this afternoon, Faolan helped me chop up the onions and carrots and garlic, though he was slow as a spring snail at it. I could tell cooking wasn’t in his wheelhouse, but he did his best despite that.
Now, though, the easy air with which he moved around me is gone, and it feels like he’s getting ready to sling me over his shoulder and dash away into the woods.
Not that I’d mind, necessarily. As long as he brought me back.
There’s a constant parade of boots through the foyer and up the stairs as Alden and Rowan fetch water from the well for a bath. Rowan comes into the kitchen to grab some hot rocks from the fire to heat the water, and he and Faolan exchange tense looks.
So we’re back to that, I guess.
Getting Rowan and Alden to be friendly with each other was a piece of honey cake compared to this. But I suppose I’d be frustrated too if I were in Faolan’s shoes, finding my mate only to realize he was already with other women.
Imagininganyof my men with another woman makes me feel slightly sick. And I do realize how silly that is, considering they’re all sharing me with one another.
Does that make me a hypocrite?
Still, Faolan lingers. It’s starting to look almost comedic, the glower on his face as Alden and Rowan carry water to and fro, chatting and laughing with each other all the while. How out of place he must feel here...
“Can you grab the bowls for me?” I ask, tilting my head toward the shelf above the kitchen counter. “I’m going to grind some herbs for garnish.”
I don’tneedFaolan’s help, but at least it’ll give him something to do.
With a grumble, he steps into the kitchen with me and reaches for the bowls on the shelf. He doesn’t flinch at the wound wrapping around his shoulder, so perhaps that means it’s starting to feel better. How I’d love to see his injuries healed up so he doesn’t have to be in pain any longer.
I can’t even imagineverballyfighting with Selene, let alone tearing each other into tattered pieces like Cathal did to Faolan. Maybe it’s a shifter thing, something I don’t understand because I’m not part of their world, but if he were here right now, I’d have asevereconversation with him.
“What is it?” Faolan asks.
His words pull me from my simmering thoughts, and I glance over to find him leaning against the counter, arms crossed.
“What do you mean?” I lift onto my toes to fetch some thyme from a high shelf, and Faolan easily reaches over and brings it down for me. “Thank you.” I toss some of the dried herbs into my mortar, then add basil, rosemary, and a bay leaf.
“Your face,” Faolan says. “You look displeased. And your scent changed.”
A jolt goes through me, and I look up at him slowly, my pestle going still. “You cansmellmy emotions?”
He gives me a small smile, barely revealing the pointed tips of his fangs, but doesn’t offer any further explanation.
“Well? What’s bothering you?”
Still reeling fromthatinformation, I turn back to grinding my herbs into a coarse seasoning to sprinkle onto the soup. Can he smell if I’m lying? I figure it’s best not to even try.
“I was thinking about you... and your brother.” I steal a glance at his bandaged wounds. “It makes me mad, knowing he’d injure you so terribly. My sister wouldnever. I can’t even fathom what that would be like.”
A low rumble vibrates in Faolan’s chest, but it sounds different from his angry grumbles; this one is softer, more contemplative. I’m starting to be able to tell them apart.
“My brother and I have not seen eye to eye for many years. I suppose it had to get worked out eventually.” He glances down at himself, and the movement sends a strand of hair cascading over the front of his shoulder. It’s so long, it hangs to the middle of his rib cage. “There’s not often fighting within the pack, despite what people might think. We know our place, our role within the community. And I knew mine. But my brother pushed me one too many times, and I’d had enough.” His shoulders lift as he breathes in, then settle with his sigh. “I was angry when we fought. It made me foolish, reckless. It’s why he overpowered me.”
His blue eyes flick up to meet mine, sending heat into my cheeks. Suddenly, I want to kiss him again, to feel his warm hands on my waist. But with the fragile peace between him and Rowan, it’s probably best not to. There will be time for that yet.
