“Only if you don’t wash them.” I picture Everett hauling a carrot from the ground and taking a big old bite. Another laugh bubbles forth, and he raises a skeptical brow. There’s only one way to settle this. “You wait here, and I’ll be right back.”

I tiptoe out of my room, careful to close the door behind me in case Nia wakes up to use the bathing room. Downstairs in the kitchen, I find a bowl of leftover tomato soup in the ice box. The dish won’t be as nice cold, but I cannot be caught heating it at this hour, nor do I want to take the time.

When I get back to my room, Everett is sitting cross-legged on my floor. “Here.” I extend the bowl and spoon toward him.

He takes both, staring down at the reddish liquid with a grimace. “Why are you giving me this gift?”

“It’s not a gift, Everett. I want you to try my food. The soup is meant to be served warm, but I don’t think my aunt or uncle would appreciate me cooking at three o’clock in the morning.”

He dips the spoon in and out, letting the liquid splash back into the bowl, watching like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. “So this house is not yours?”

“No. My brother and I grew up in the mountains.” I nod toward the bowl. “Are you going to try it or keep playing with it?”

He scoops some up and takes a slurping sip.

“Well?”

His lips smack as he makes a face. “Not the worst food I have tasted.”

I can’t help but laugh when he hands back the bowl. I take a bite and decide the next time I want him to try something, it simply must be at the correct temperature. Setting the bowl on my dressing table, I sit, not on the bed, but on the floor with Everett, my back braced against the brass footboard. “Do you have a family?”

“No, I was born of shadows and darkness,” he deadpans.

Nia told me the exact same thing that first Wednesday we snuck out, except when she said it, she was serious. “Funny.” I’m not sure why, but I didn’t expect him to have a sense of humor. “How old are you?”

“Thirty. How old are you?”

“I’ll be twenty-five on the fourteenth of May.”

For some reason, that makes him frown. “You have come to Rosehill for a mate, then?”

“I have.” Although right now, the thought of choosing one makes my stomach churn. Or maybe that was the cold soup. “Is it the same in your kingdom?”

He offers no more than a nod, his dark gaze boring into mine.

My mouth suddenly feels too dry. When my tongue swipes across my lips, I swear his eyes follow the movement. “Do you belong to someone, then?”