Our Fatal Failings (Twisted book two)

Chapter Fifteen

He stares at me, tilting his neck. "What are you a dog?" Carefully, I run my fingers through soft fur. If feels just like the hair on his head, almost just as dark. This is so strange.

He snaps at me again. "What?" I stand, staring up the pass. "We need to keep going. Run ahead if you want."

He snaps as soon as I walk. His fur brushes my bare legs. I bend so I'm eye level. "Maybe you shouldn't have shifted."

His teeth drag my shirt as I stand back up. I let out air between my teeth, frustration seeping through. I fall onto his back. "What the hell?"

It's then he beginning to run. I dig my fingers into warm fur. He's the size of dire wolves in legends. He is a thing of legends. He moves easily up the pass. I close my eyes. Wind brushes my faces, stings my eyes, dirt and sediment dig into the corners.

After some time, she shrugs me off and shift back. He's breathing hard. "Goddess, that was hard."

"It was your idea."

He turns around. "We're almost there. A little farther."

The cabin is a far cry from the palace. It's a home. Small, with maybe one bedroom at most, the outside is modest. There are flowers growing at the front, a swing on the porch. "Like it?" He asks. His hand runs up my back.

I swallow back spit and just nod, darting forward and opening the door. The first thing I go to is the fridge. I open it. It's full of food. The pantries are too. Our bags sit in the bedroom. "The car got here hours ago."

"We would've been here hours ago is someone could shift."

I shoot him a glare before washing my hands and pulling ingredients from out of the fridge. I'm hungry and without palace chefs, I can cook again. I always liked cooking, I just don't get to do it very often anymore.

I cut up tomatoes, blend them up and add it to a blend of spices in the pot. I put a couple teaspoons of oil, drop a pinch of salt and set to work on the chicken thighs. They'll do good in the oven.

I'm humming away setting to work on the pasta, stirring the sauce when hands wrap around my waist. I'm pressed against the counter. "Jonah-"

He kisses my bare shoulder. My head spins. If I don't focus, this food will burn. "I'm cooking dinner."

He reaches under my arm and turns the sauce. "There, that's all taken care of." Tingles go up my spine. My head is singing, truly singing. I don't want to loose focus now. I've been getting good at ignoring it, controlling it. I want to stay in the present. He sighs. "I want to take you to bed."

What can I say to that? The response is all stuck up in my throat. "It's done."

He grins at my frustration. I set up the table, dishing out two plates, setting up lemonade and a salad. "Sometimes I wonder if it would be better to have a little home like this. Like what argue to me about. Small, private. Just you and I and our children."

Children. "Jonah, I-"

His eyes are open and innocent. And blue.

Not the beast, not the monster, the mechanism, the biological urge.

It's the man speaking to me. "Do you want children? Were you speaking the truth at the healer's?"

I could imagine small feet running across the floor. Maybe not his. "I'm young right now to think about it. I have a lot of life ahead."

"We're mated."

I lifted my hand. "I don't see any ring on my finger."

"Marriage is nothing to us. Marriages can be broken. We can't be." The words hit a different way in a place like this.