Page 57 of Brody
“Convenient,” she said, finally shrugging off her own pack and setting it carefully beside a wooden table.“So there are more of these scattered throughout the forest?”
I nodded, moving to the kitchen area.“Seven that the Bane family has maintained since Boris purchased the land.The pack uses them as resting points during patrols.”
“This is fascinating,” she said, joining me in the kitchen, unpacking her own supplies with the methodical precision I was coming to recognize as her way of maintaining control in uncertain situations.
“That’s Black Forest Ridge for you,” I replied, starting to prepare our meal.The fully stocked refrigerator revealed treasures that would have impressed even the finest restaurants in Anchorage, premium cuts of meat, fresh vegetables, and herbs that filled the air with fragrant promises.
“Is that wagyu beef?”Rozi asked, her eyes widening as I pulled out two perfectly marbled steaks.“In a remote cabin in the middle of nowhere?”
I couldn’t help the satisfied smile that spread across my face.“The Bane pack takes hospitality seriously.Una always said food was medicine for both body and soul.”I placed the steaks on the counter with reverence.“Care to help?Or would you prefer to watch?”
The challenge in my voice was subtle but unmistakable.Her eyes narrowed, that competitive spark I remembered from our youth flaring to life.
“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent cook,” she replied, rolling up her sleeves with purposeful movements.
“Never doubted it for a second,” I said, enjoying the way her spine straightened at the implied challenge.
We moved around the kitchen with synchronicity.She reached for the salt just as my hand moved toward it.Instead of the collision I half expected, our movements flowed together like choreography.She stepped left as I moved right, handed me the knife before I could ask, and anticipated my need for fresh rosemary with uncanny precision.
The mate bond, I realized, still hummed between us despite her determination to ignore it.
I watched her hands as she skillfully diced potatoes, her movements precise and efficient.Something about the domesticity of the moment made my chest ache with longing for what might have been years ago.
“You’re staring at me again,” she said without looking up, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
“Hard not to,” I admitted, not bothering to hide my appreciation.“You make potato dicing look like an art form.”
Her soft laugh sent heat pooling low in my belly.“Flattery will get you nowhere, Thornbern.”
“Not flattery.Observation.”I moved beside her, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body, to catch the subtle changes in her scent that betrayed her awareness of me.“Here, try this.”
I held out a spoon with a sample of the marinade I’d been preparing, garlic, herbs, and a hint of something darker, more complex.Her eyes held mine as she leaned forward, lips closing around the spoon in a way that made my cock twitch against my jeans.The simple act of feeding her felt more intimate than it had any right to.
“Mmm,” she murmured, her eyelids fluttering briefly closed.“That’s… unexpected.What’s in it?”
“My secret recipe,” I replied, fighting to keep my voice steady despite how bad I wanted to kiss her.“Though I might be persuaded to share it with the right person.”
Something shifted in her expression, vulnerability, perhaps, or recognition of what I was really offering.Not just a recipe, but trust.Inclusion in something that had been mine alone.
“I’ll add more herbs to the potatoes,” she said after a moment, turning back to her task.Not acceptance, but not rejection either.Progress.
I found a bottle of red wine in the pantry, a vintage that would have cost hundreds outside this magical place.The label was handwritten in a language I didn’t recognize, the bottle dusty with age.When I pulled the cork, the scent that emerged was intoxicating, black cherries, earth, and something wild that reminded me of the forest after rain.
“This should complement the steaks,” I said, reaching for two crystal glasses and pouring wine.
Rozi accepted the glass I offered, her fingers brushing mine in a contact that sent electricity racing up my arm.She inhaled deeply, a small sound of appreciation escaping her.“Is everything in this place impossibly perfect?”
“Not everything,” I replied, holding her gaze for a beat longer than necessary.“Some things are still works in progress.”
The double meaning wasn’t lost on her.She took a sip of wine instead of responding, but I caught the slight hitch in her breath, the way her pupils dilated ever so slightly.
The steaks sizzled as they hit the hot pan, filling the cabin with a rich, savory aroma that made my wolf rumble with approval.Rozi moved beside me, sliding the potatoes into the oven with practiced ease.Our arms brushed.A contact so brief it might have been accidental if not for the way her scent spiked with awareness.
“The salad’s ready,” she said, her voice slightly huskier than before.She’d found greens and vegetables I hadn’t even noticed, arranging them with the same precision she probably brought to her laboratory experiments.
“Perfect timing,” I replied, lifting the steaks onto a wooden board to rest.“The table by the fire seems like the best spot.”
The small table tucked into an alcove near the hearth seemed designed for intimate conversation, its surface inlaid with the same luminescent stones that decorated the walls.Two chairs faced each other, close enough that our knees would touch beneath the table.
