31. Mari

Chapter thirty-one

Mari

S oren's kiss and words burn down my skin. His enormous arms wrap around me with a desperation I've never felt. The feelings lighting up my senses threaten to burn the world around me with their heat—our heat.

Reluctantly, I break the kiss. Things are going to happen today that will change everything. The small world we have been living in is going to expand.

Part of me is already mourning the quiet, soft spaces that allowed me to breathe and open up to someone other than my friends.

The realization is apparent in Soren's eyes as he rakes my skin with his gaze, memorizing me as best he can.

I hold his face in my hands. "Hey, Sweets, I'm not going anywhere without you," I say as he presses his cheek further into my palm, letting me feel the wet trail of a small tear.

This creature, this man, this beast tears up from the emotion of the moment. Part of me wants to rib him. But not now, not here. Not in the room where we just spilled our guts to each other. Some things need to be left whole.

"Right," he says, straightening. "We have a busy day ahead of us. Would you like to learn to bake?"

"How do you know I don't already know how?" I scoff at him.

He leans close, giving me a knowing half-smile.

"Then, by all means, Warrior. Show me what you can do." He kisses just under my jaw, making his intention clear. If there weren't so many other things happening, I would show him what I can do right here on this countertop. Instead, I drop my shoulders in defeat.

"Alright, let's do this," I say, watching his expression brighten.

Flour streaks Soren's cheeks, and strawberry compote smears his gray linen top.

He throws another batch of turnovers into the oven and smiles with triumph.

"I think that should do it," he says, slapping his hands together and removing the excess flour.

"Well, what in the hell do we do now?" I ask hesitantly.

Sitting and waiting is not my forte.

He looks at me with such understanding that it almost pisses me off. He can't possibly know me as well as he thinks he does.

"How about we get changed? I wouldn't want to meet your friend covered in flour and sugar." He gestures down at his clothes, then to mine. "We will change and find something else to occupy our time." He twitches a brow at me.

"Okay, lover boy, we can't do that; what if they show up mid-dicking?"

He giggles, actually giggles. I don't know what it is about that word, but it turns him into a teenage boy.

"I suppose you are right. I guess we can clean up and do some work in the shop. I have the bell hooked up. We will know if anyone's at the front door."

"Sounds like a plan," I say, following him up the stairs. I can't help but slap his ass.

He whips his head back in my direction, looking aghast. "I would advise you to keep your hands to yourself. Or else you'll sully my delicate sensibilities." He holds a hand to his heart in mock embarrassment.

The laugh that rolls out of my chest at his ridiculous words rings through the house, and he smiles back. Something about making me laugh strikes pride in him, like it's an accomplishment, a thing he never thought achievable.

Maybe he's right to think that. I can barely believe it myself.

We get to our room, and I strip, pretending I can't feel his hot stare rake over my skin. I will choose to ignore that, I think to myself, disregarding the heat pooling between my legs.

"It's not polite to stare," I say, looking over my shoulder.

"Then take out my eyes because if you are in any state of undress around me, I will be looking." He crooks his jaw, giving me a devilish half-smile and revealing his larger-than-normal canines. That fucking smile will be the death of me.

Once dressed and relatively put together, we head back down and start cleaning up.

Soren is a fantastic cook and baker but an absolute wrecking ball. There isn't an area in this kitchen that isn't covered in something. Whether it's flour, milk, or fruit. Syrup, sugar, it doesn't matter. Soren has the magical ability to get it everywhere. At least he's good at cleaning up after himself.

I pop a strawberry tart into my mouth before I wipe down the countertop for the second time when Soren's head shoots up, his eyes wide.

"Someone's here," he says into the air as if he's processing the information as he receives it.

My heart jumps into my throat. "How do you know?" I have heard nothing, no footsteps or voices.

"The Vaki, their presence. They have a magic that feels like nothing else. Even those without powers can sense it. They're here."

"Well, what do I do?" I say, panic rising in my throat, choking on the words.

"Would you like me to greet them?" he asks.

Would I? Am I so stricken with nerves that I would let Soren take the lead? No, I think not.

I shake my head. "No, love, I've got this," I say, walking to the door just in time to hear the first knock sound.

Holy shit, keep it together. Don ' t get weird; just be yourself. Strong, confident Mariana. That is what Yera will be expecting.

I crack the cobalt blue door, revealing my friend, my lifelong best friend.

"Yera," I say, tears already stinging my eyes.

She looks so tiny. Sure, she's not exactly short for a human, but I've been around ogres. She looks practically childlike compared to them. I haul her into my arms, ignoring the massive ghostly creature behind her.

I feel Soren walk up behind me, his overwhelming presence a comfort.

"Come inside, won't you?" he asks. The creature behind Yera nods, gently guiding her into the house, placing his white, tattooed hand on the small of her back.