I glanced down at my ripped tunic and the scratches on my arms and hands. Thin streaks of blood had dried along my skin, though the deeper cuts still oozed a bit. The knees of my pants were torn too. “I got into a fight with a thorn bush. If you think I look bad, you should see him. His poking days are over.”
The demi-human made a rough, throaty sound. A laugh?
“Come inside,” he then said. “Supper is cooking on the stove. You can eat and then be on your way.”
***
The interior of the cottage lived up to my expectations. Quaint, cozy, and homey with rustic décor in earthy shades of brown, terra-cotta, and splashes of green. Plants were placed throughout the living space, and wooden beams ran along the ceiling. A side table made of a lighter shade of wood stood beside an armchair, topped with a hardback book turned facedown and an unlit candle in a brass holder.
In front of the chair, tucked inside a stone hearth, a fire burned, giving me a nice reprieve from the outside chill. I drifted closer and held out my hands to warm them. “Thank you for letting me come in.”
The male—whose name I still didn’t know—gave a small nod and advanced toward the kitchen with the wicker basket.
“Not that I’m complaining, but why did you let me in?” Of course I had to ask. Curiosity killed the cat. The same would probably be written on my gravestone too, right above“He pet something he shouldn’t.”
“Because.” He pulled out a zucchini and two bell peppers—one yellow, one red—and set them on the counter. After rinsing them beneath the spout at the sink, he placed the zucchini on a wooden cutting board.
Chop, chopwent the knife, creating a slow but steady rhythm.
“Do you need help?” I asked, cautiously approaching him. “I’m kind of handy in the kitchen. Making desserts is my thing, but I can do savory dishes too.”
“No.” His shoulders tensed, and the knife stilled on the board. “I’d prefer it if you sat down.” He then continued chopping the vegetable. “You moving around is making me nervous.”
“Why are you nervous?” I slid into a chair at the square table, respecting his wishes. His boundaries too. But seriously. I was like half his size. Definitely not a threat. If I tried to rob or attack him, he could just swat me away like a gnat.
His ears pointed back as he added the chopped zucchini to a bowl and grabbed the yellow bell pepper. “Because you’re human.”
Demi-humans were citizens of Bremloc but were looked down upon by so many people. I hadn’t met many of them, but I hated the thought of them being mistreated. Prince Sawyer did too.
“Is that why you live in the middle of the forest? To get away from humans?”
He didn’t answer. He just kept chopping.
“How long have you lived here?”
“Ever since I was a boy.” Once both bell peppers were chopped, he added them to the bowl and took it over to the stove. He dumped the vegetables into a cast-iron skillet. “I lived here with my father.”
No need to ask if his father was still around. The sudden sadness in his voice answered that question.
“What are you making?” Better to change the subject.
“Chicken and vegetables. The chicken is cooked and resting. I’ll slice it and add it to the skillet once these are ready. I’ll add broccoli and onion as well.”
“Awesome. It smells great.” I examined my hands and winced at the tiny cuts and scratches on the heel of my palms. They covered my wrists and went up my forearms too. “Stupid thorns.”
The air stirred in front of me, and I jolted as the man knelt in front of my chair. He’d moved so fast and quietly I hadn’t even noticed him approaching.
“Allow me,” he said, then gently grabbed my hands, turning them palm up. As he studied them, I noted his sharp features. His pale skin looked smooth, no visible flaws, and he smelled like the forest: earthy, like evergreen trees and spring water. Purple eyes lifted to my face, surrounded by a fan of silver lashes. “Minor wounds. That’s fortunate. While supper finishes, let’s clean these and get you bandaged.”
He was beautiful.
“Th-Thanks.” I swallowed, confused by my reaction to him. It was a lot like how I’d felt when meeting Maddox and Briar for the first time—when they’d first touched me. I pulled my hands from his. “No need to trouble yourself though. I can clean up on my own.”
Touching me had clearly made him uncomfortable. I didn’t want to make it worse.
“Very well.” He rose from the floor and took a step back. “The washroom is down the hall.”
Nodding, I stood and walked that way. Once inside, I shakily exhaled and washed my hands at the sink basin. The water must’ve come from a nearby well. After scrubbing the dirt from under my nails, I ran the water up both my forearms and used the bar of soap to lather it. My face felt grimy, so I washed it too.
