Page 118 of Immortal Bastard

He kissed her temple. “But I’m glad to see I’m not the only territorial one.”

One would have to be emotionally invested to feel possessive. She had no claim to him. Didn’t want one.

He chuckled again and lifted her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of her knuckles where their fingers entwined. “I’m yours, pintura. There’s no shame in that. I’ll be there whenever you have need.”

Her stomach growled and she blushed. All humor disappeared from his easy expression.

“You’re hungry.”

She was. There was no point in denying it. “I can’t eat another peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

“I’m not sure you’ll like the other options.”

If he meant blood, he was right. “Do you have eggs?”

“Will you eat eggs?”

She was too hungry to be difficult. “On occasion I do.”

“I can visit the coop.”

She winced. “You’re going to take them from actual hens, aren’t you?”

“That’s where eggs typically come from.”

“I prefer the ones that come from cartons in the grocery store.”

“Ah, yes, because those only come from mother cartons.”

“Exactly.”

“What if I put them in a bowl?”

She was being ridiculous, but if she overthought the source, she’d lose her appetite. Her stomach growled again, this time louder than before. “That’ll work.”

Christian went to visit the coop while she nosed around his kitchen, pulling supplies from his pantry. Nothing was labeled in the familiar fashion she recognized. Flour and sugar were stored in sacks and seasonings were kept in unmarked jars she had to sniff to identify. By the time she had the ingredients for French toast gathered, he was back with the eggs.

She frowned at the sad collection. “Did the mothers fuss?”

“No. We collect their eggs daily, so they don’t have a chance to get attached and broody.”

She still felt guilty. “Maybe we should just eat sandwiches.”

He picked up an egg and cracked it in the large bowl she’d set out. “Now, it would be a shame to waste such a sacrifice.”

She bit her lip. “We need four more.”

“Shut your eyes.”

She covered her eyes until the next three eggs were cracked, appreciating his willingness to do the dirty work. She was a total hypocrite, but he was polite enough not to say so.

“Do you have bread?”

He went to the Hoosier cupboard on the wall and pulled open a drawer with metal sides, removing a linen sack. “It’s a few days old.”

Pulling back the linen flap, she revealed an untouched loaf. “Did you make this?”

“A friend makes it for me.”

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