She gasped and the sympathy in her eyes overwhelmed him. No one had sympathy for him. No one worried about him or thought about what his life was like. He couldn’t remember anyone asking. Compassion and sympathy were two emotions to beat out of children, to never give them. He found her reaction disconcerting.

Abruptly he lifted his head and made to move away from her. Her hands slid up his chest to curl into his shirt. She held him there, not by her strength or even her will, but by something he’d never had before. He didn’t know what to do with it and like his leopard, when he was threatened, he stood very still, something lethal unfolding in him. Simultaneously, emotion spread like a wildfire. Need. Hunger. Something bigger. Much bigger. Looking down into her face, his heart contracted and he knew she was in there. Wrapped there, never to get out, and he didn’t even know how or when it had happened.

“Sit down, Fyodor. I’ll fix us something to eat. You can talk while you eat.”

That was a first as well. He barely recalled his mother making them food. She had, now that he thought about it, but it had been a rare occasion, not normal. His mother had hidden herself from her husband as much as possible. Alonzo had learned to cook at a very early age. To rummage for food. His brothers had done the same.

Evangeline slowly eased her fists from his shirt and rubbed her palms down his chest, smoothing the material. “Go sit.” She indicated a kitchen chair.

The small breakfast nook was cozy, unlike the more formal dining room. Even the nook opened up to the kitchen and other rooms. The thing about it was . . . He hesitated. The area was a wide, round, low tower built with windows curving around to serve as walls. It was beautiful, open, and during the day would invite in the sun, but not made for a man like him—a man belonging to the dark. He didn’t sit with his back to the world. He didn’t sit in front of windows—exposed.

He took a barstool instead at the counter and watched as she pulled down a couple of pans and skillets. She smiled at him, her first genuine smile in what seemed a long while. It was the one she reserved for him alone.

“Stir-fry with chicken? It’s the fastest.”

“You don’t have to cook for me, Evangeline.”

“I know that. I hadn’t planned to, but you’re here and we both have to eat.”