Chapter 11

Eleven

WESLEY

O kay, so cooking wasn’t my forte. Who knew you could burn onions and carrots and that the smell would be repulsive enough to make my eyes water?

Finn stepped out of the bathroom in a t-shirt and sweatpants that left nothing to the imagination. Had the realm not given him underwear? Big dick indeed. His nose wrinkled at the smell and he stepped up close to me, staring over my shoulder. His body heat taking away the chill of the room with only a few inches separating us.

“Looks great,” he said.

“I’m not a cook,” I snapped, stepping away from him and instantly regretting it as the chill returned.

He studied me, but kept his distance. He picked up the pan of overcooked veggies and slid them onto the cutting board. I made my way to the bed, sorted through the blankets, picking a few for him, and regretting having to give them up as the chill etched up my spine. Cupboards opened and closed, Finn searching for something, and a few minutes later he appeared at my side, bowl and fork in hand.

“Eat,” he commanded.

I took the bowl, but glared at him, expecting to have to choke down the stuff I burned. But the bean salad he had made filled the bowl. I poked it with the fork and found tiny bits of the onion and carrot in it, but when I brought the first taste to my lips, couldn’t tell they were in there, or how badly I’d burned them.

Finn dished himself a bowl and perched on the only other chair in the room. Gaze on the food and not on me, though I felt his regard several times. He ate quickly and in silence. I stewed on the fact that he was not only good looking, had a big dick, he could cook, and was a great kisser. Had my request brought him here? Why? What did this realm want from me?

“There’s more if you want,” Finn offered, pointing to the bowl. He glanced toward the bathroom. “My other clothes vanished… phone, too.”

“Maybe the world will spit them back out clean and charged.” I motioned to the pile of blankets I’d made. “I trust you can make yourself a comfortable place to sleep.”

“Sure,” Finn said. “I’ve done a lot of camping in my life.” He laid out the blankets, two on the bottom as a mattress in the center of the room, one folded as a pillow and one for an actual blanket. “I run pretty warm, so I may not need this,” he offered it back.

“It’s fine,” I said. “Kitty will help keep me warm.” The leopard sat by the door acting as a guard, tail twitching, but otherwise still. That the cat kept its leopard form when Finn was around made me wonder if it knew something about Finn that I didn’t or was simply being cautious.

“Is that his name?”

“No idea. He doesn’t talk.”

“Shouldn’t a fae cat talk?” Finn asked, not me, but the cat.

It glanced at him as if he was bothering it.

“You look more like one of those snow leopards than a kitty,” Finn said as he lay down on his makeshift bed. “Do you want some bean salad?”

The cat didn’t move. I hadn’t seen it eat.

“I could probably try to hunt a squirrel or something tomorrow,” Finn muttered. “Had a pocket knife and that’s gone with my clothes. At least I left the lighter on the counter.” It sat beside the wood stove.

“Anything you try to hunt in this world will eat you,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Scary.” He sounded tired, but not all that frightened. “I’ll call him, Snow.”

“It’s a little rude to assume someone’s name,” I said, turning my back to him and pulling up the blankets to burrow beneath and pray for warmth.

“Still don’t know yours,” Finn pointed out. “Only fair that you share it since you had your tongue in my mouth.”

Silence stretched between us. Names had power, and mine was ordinary. Finally, I said, “My name is Wesley.”

He didn’t say anything for a while. I closed my eyes, the light in the corner dimmed. “Nice to meet you, Wesley.”

I grunted at him. Faintly I heard, “Can you keep him warm, Snow?”

Was he talking to the cat? A few seconds later, the leopard leapt up onto the bed and slid itself into the narrow space at my back, warmth projecting from it and instantly sucking the lingering chill out of me. I sighed in relief, exhaustion hitting hard. Sleep sucked me down to dreams of pastries, warm fruity tea, and big dicks.