His vest creaked. The crimson stitching of his tunic threatened to burst at his biceps when he lifted a gleaming silver tray of food and gestured to the table. His gaze swam over me, as if checking all of me was still here.

He blinked, almost shy as he roughly said, “Thought you might need something to eat.”

Steam rose from the chicken and roast vegetables when he removed the lid shielding the plate. “Where did you get that?”

“The Keep,” he said, and before I could ask more, he came for me to steal my chin. “Hello, wildflower.”

My head tipped right back, and my lips parted when his thumb brushed beneath my mouth. That fluttering returned with a vengeance. “Hello, wolf.”

He smirked, then dropped his hand to grab mine. I was tugged to my feet, the sheet held to my chest, though I didn’t know why. He’d seen everything—parts of me I’d only ever shared with one creature.

A kiss, a barely-there placement of softness over my cheek, had never felt so menacing. “Sit,” he commanded. “Eat.”

With my heart hammering, I swallowed and thanked him, sliding into the chair he’d untucked.

He left me with my turmoil and the delicious food I was suddenly not so hungry to eat, his boots heavy over the wood floor as they carried him to the small bathing room next to the kitchen. Tears sprang unexpectedly when I heard water filling a tub, then his returning steps.

I ducked my head and snatched the fork from the tray, forcing myself to eat to better hide my inconsistent emotions.

The cheese sauce was unlike any I’d tasted at home, rich and creamy without overpowering the herb-laced chicken. Hunger returned with a force that made my stomach growl.

Chuckling, the wolf poured me a glass of water. “When was the last time you ate?”

Except for some fruit and bread from the city market stalls the morning prior and some peppered nuts at the tavern, I hadn’t. Though I knew to say so would displease him. “Yesterday,” I simply said, then gestured to the empty space at the table before him when he took a seat, the wood of the chair groaning. “You’re not eating?”

“I ate at the Keep,” he said, pushing the water toward me.

So the royal home of Vordane was called a keep. I smiled my gratitude and took a sip, finding I couldn’t meet his watchful gaze. “Did you fix your mess?”

He huffed. “Dramatic is Fang’s surname.”

I set the water down. “And what is yours?”

When he didn’t respond, I looked up and found his hands curled together over the table. His eye was a brighter green this evening, like the stained glass of the windows back at home. “Don’t have one.”