Ambrosia (Frost and Nectar Book 2)

We faced away from one another, and I reached down for the hem of my dress. The green material was beyond filthy at this point. Even though I’d already been naked around Torin all the way here, it felt very different now in the calm and quiet of the house. And when I pulled the dress off, I was acutely aware of every inch of my bare skin. The hearth warmed one side of my body, and I glanced behind me at the tub.

“No looking,” I said, more of a reminder to myself than to him.

“That will make it difficult to get in the tub,” he said quietly.

Behind me, I heard the rustle of his clothes as he undressed. An unbidden image of Torin naked rose in my thoughts, and I imagined every sculpted, iron-hard curve of his muscles.

It really was difficult to find the tub without looking, so I stole a glance over my shoulder at the tub. Awkwardly, I climbed back over the rim, mentally congratulating myself for getting the temperature exactly right—hot enough to turn my skin pink, but not hot enough to blister. I slid down, sitting cross-legged in the water.

I heard Torin slip into the bath behind me and the sharp intake of his breath. The water rose higher, and the steaming water lapped at my skin above my breasts.

“Gods, Ava. Are you trying to boil us alive? Is this hell?”

“Do your subjects know you’re such a delicate flower?” My muscles relaxed, and I folded my arms over the edge. I should be actively washing my hair and body, but I just wanted to let myself melt. And I was intensely distracted by the fact that Torin was crammed into the tub close to me, trying very carefully to keep his body from touching mine.

Next to the tub, I’d piled neatly folded clothes—trousers, boots, and clean white shirts that I’d found tucked away in a wardrobe. My gaze skimmed over the garments and back to the Seelie king. From the corner of my eye, I glimpsed a warrior’s body, the dark tattoos that climbed vine-like over his finely cut muscles. His shoulders flexed, and shadows and firelight sculpted the chiseled contours of his back. I let my gaze trail over the angry plum-colored bruises on his spine, fury curling through my chest. Morgant had really done a number on him.

Sighing, Torin leaned forward, his arms folded over the front of the tub as mine had been moments before. The heated water was a balm for aching muscles, and the sultry air was soothing to the lungs.

Maybe it was the excruciating, heartbreaking loneliness of that time spent in the cell, but I had a hard time tearing my eyes away from him.

With the scent of roasting meat and rosemary wafting over me, I found my primal desires were getting confused. Did I want to care for him, devour him, or straddle him? I was no longer sure.

Maybe some combination of all three.

He caught me watching him, and my cheeks burned,

“Ava,” he said softly, “I thought we were supposed to be facing away from each other.”

I turned sharply, my cheeks flaming. “You wouldn’t have known I was looking if you hadn’t looked.” Did I sound childish? Maybe.

Behind me, I heard the sound of water rushing off Torin’s body into the bath as he washed himself, then his feet on the wood floor. I felt a twinge of disappointment, but I didn’t want to leave the water. This bath right here was heaven.

I kept my eyes firmly locked on the floor while he dressed.

A minute later, Torin knelt next to the fire. The clean white shirt I’d found stretched over his muscles, several sizes too small, as he turned the pheasant on its spit.

My mouth watered, my stomach hollowed out with intense hunger. “The pheasant must be done by now?”

I honestly would have eaten it raw. Completely raw.

Another rotation of the spit. “Not quite yet. We haven’t eaten in days, so we might as well make it a good one.”

“If you make me wait any longer, I could end up cannibalizing you. I think I’m getting in touch with my demon side here, Torin.”

“Sounds strangely tempting.” His eyes glinted as he turned to look at me. “I suppose I could give you a few of the berries, but the rest I’m using in a port sauce—”

I flashed my canines at him. “I will start with your shoulders, Torin, tearing out chunks of your beautiful muscles with my teeth.”

A smile flickered over his lips, and he stood. “Not long ago, you were fretting about the state of my feet. Now you want to eat me alive.” He handed me a small wooden bowl with purple berries.

“I contain multitudes.” I popped a berry in my mouth and bit into it. Heaven. Had I ever tasted anything so sweet? “I’d share these with you, but I’m afraid the Seelie and Unseelie are ancient enemies.”

“Good thing I’m fully capable of waiting for the real meal.” The velvety murmur in his tone made my blood heat.

The berries stained my fingers purple. “If Morgant comes for us tomorrow and we die an excruciating death at his hands, we have to make sure this was a good night.”

“And that’s why I’m not rushing things, changeling.”

“So, if we find this veiled woman, and she can tell us how to return home, how long will you wait to consummate your marriage with…whoever it is you plan to marry?”

He shot me a sharp look, then stood and crossed to the kitchen table. “I’m going to focus on the important work of making the port sauce.”

As he ground up the berries, he seemed rattled. I turned all the way around in the bath to get a better view of him. I couldn’t help it. I really liked looking at him.

“While I’m sure the port sauce requires all the concentration your pretty little head can muster,” I said, “you will be needing royal offspring. Who else is going to grow up and slaughter the sacrificial victims at Beltane if you don’t produce an heir?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “You know, it really has been a very long time since we’ve sacrificed one of your kind at Beltane. The clans would be delighted.”

“A demon would be perfect. Horrible creatures. Can I recommend Morgant for that role?”

A smile flickered over his lips. “I think he is the queen’s son. Her remaining son, anyway.”

“That was my impression.”

I finished the last of the berries. By now, the bath had made me pink. “Turn around, Your Highness. I’m getting out.”

He did as I asked, averting his eyes.

I hadn’t found any towels, but I had unearthed an old wool blanket, so I dried myself off, then pulled on a white button-down shirt that reached halfway down my thighs and a pair of tiny blue shorts. I hadn’t been able to find any trousers that would fit me.

Once I was dressed, I thought I should help the dinner effort, so I pulled plates from the old shelves and slid them onto the table. “And I’m pouring the port. And whatever is going on with that pheasant, we’re eating it, because the berries are gone, and the pheasant would taste better than your muscly flesh.”

With a sigh, Torin started to pull the pheasant off the metal rod. “You must take care not to eat too quickly. After days of starvation, if you overindulge, you’ll make yourself sick.”

Golden light wavered around the cozy room, and I crossed to the table to pour port into glasses. “Look at us, all domestic, just a Seelie king with a fondness for human sacrifice and his demonic enemy. Breaking bread together like a couple of old pals.”

Outside, thunder rumbled across the landscape.

“You’re really hung up on the human sacrifice thing, aren’t you?”

“Kind of a quirk of mine.” I turned around, and to my absolute delight, I was staring at a perfectly roasted pheasant, the crisp skin a rich buttery color. Actual drool dripped from my lips, and I wiped the back of my hand over my mouth. “Because of this, all is forgiven with the human sacrifice.”

Torin slid the bird onto the table, and I hurried over to the wooden bench.

At one point, I did have manners, but they’d died in the cell several days ago, so I simply ripped off one of the thighs and started gnawing it like a caveman.

“Slowly, little demon.”

Never in my life had I tasted anything so divine. This was the food of the gods, rich but delicately spiced. Where did Torin learn to cook? I would have imagined a king would never have to bother. Of course, he really did seem to like looking after people, and cooking was the perfect way to do it.

The heat seared my tongue, but I couldn’t get enough.

“Ava,” Torin said quietly in a warning.

“Fine.” I forced myself to slow down and took a sip of the port. I sighed. “It’s almost like being home, isn’t it?” But something rang false about it, like I was trying too hard to ignore everything that had happened in the dungeon. And with the words out of my mouth, all the horrors of the past week slammed back into my thoughts. The utter lack of control. The pain of my infected shoulder, and the wild desperation of thinking I was dying alone, that no one would come for me. Even if I’d been born here and this little cottage was cozy, this horrible realm was nothing like home. Sharp talons of homesickness found their home in my heart, piercing me until I hardly wanted to eat anymore. I stared at the table, trying to school my expression. Where was that cheeriness I’d been able to muster a few minutes ago?

“What do you usually eat in that bar?” Torin sipped his wine. “The one where I met you? Is that a regular spot for you?”

I blinked at him, struck by the banality of the question when my thoughts had spiraled off on such a wild tangent. When I caught his eye, I had the impression that he’d been able to precisely read the look on my face or had detected the slight crack in my voice when I’d said home. And he must have realized how desperately I craved normalcy at that moment.

Shocking, how easily he could read what I needed.

“Yes,” I answered at last. “I went there a lot with Shalini. Taco Tuesdays, especially. But I was usually broke, so I got nachos. They were cheaper.” Never in my life would I have guessed my voice would one day crack with emotion at the word nachos, but here we were.

“Nachos,” he repeated slowly. I had a feeling he had no idea what they were, but he was trying to play along. “Will you have this again when you return home?”

“With Shalini.” I blinked, trying to clear the tears from my eyes. “But this food is amazing, Torin. I feel confident in saying it’s the best thing you’ve ever done.” I licked my fingers—a disgusting habit, and something I never would have done if I hadn’t been starved for a week.

Lightning flashed, and a few moments later, rain started to hammer against the window. Outside, a storm picked up.

“Where do you plan to sleep, by the way?” I asked.

“Out here.”

“On the floor?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized I’d have to approach this carefully. The truth was, I didn’t want the guilt of a battered hero sleeping on stone while I had the cozy bed, but I couldn’t just come out and say that he needed looking after. He’d immediately reject it.

I frowned at him. “I’d feel better if you and I were in the same room. For one thing, I might need you to protect me from another monster. And also, I’ll get cold.”

His blue eyes glowed brighter. “First the bath, and now you’re inviting me to bed?”

“For safety reasons. I know you’re saving yourself for marriage, but I’m sure you can restrain yourself around me.”

“First of all, I said no such thing about saving myself. Second, I can restrain myself, changeling.” A lazy smile curled his lips. “But you, on the other hand? I saw how you looked at me in the bath. Beautiful muscles, I think you said.”

I pulled another piece of meat off. I hadn’t managed to find any cutlery. “Oh, bless your heart. I was looking at you as food. Just like I think this pheasant has beautiful thighs.”

He arched an eyebrow, pinning me with his intense gaze under thick black eyelashes. The warm light danced over his sculpted cheekbones. “Fine. Bed it is.”

I crawled under the covers, sinking into the most comfortable, downy-soft bed I’d ever seen. My thigh muscles felt cramped and exhausted, but my body was cocooned in softness, melting into the bed itself. And with the rain pattering against the window, my eyes were already starting to close.

But they snapped open when I heard Torin enter the room, his dark hair ruffled. Still, he somehow looked model-perfect in the silvery light, and he’d already taken off the small shirt. In fact, now he was wearing nothing but one of the pairs of shorts I’d found, shorts that were extremely tight. Low on his hips, they showed off every inch of his cut abs.

Was he doing this on purpose to prove something? Given the devilish look in his eyes, I’d say yes.

I closed my eyes, his words from Faerie echoing in my mind.

Because if it were you and me, in the oak grove on Beltane, I would have you screaming my name. Calling me your king. I would have your body responding to my every command, shuddering with pleasure underneath me, until you forgot the human world existed at all…

He ran a hand through his hair as he approached the bed, his eyes locked on me in a way that made heat swoop through my belly.

I rolled over, determined to sink into the bed and fall asleep.

My eyes drifted closed, but I knew the truth. I wasn’t going to get a moment’s sleep with Torin next to me, nearly naked. If we get out of here, he’s going to marry some judgmental Seelie princess, I reminded myself.

I tried to picture him walking down the aisle with Moria by his side. How stunning they would look together.

I pulled the sheets up around my chin.

As soon as Torin slid into the bed, his delicious oaky scent wrapped around me, and I felt his heat, his power radiating off him.

When his bicep brushed against my back, my pulse started to gallop at full speed.

And of course, the Seelie king noticed.

“Your heart is racing,” he murmured.

“Anxiety.”

To my surprise, he pulled me in tightly to him, his chiseled arms wrapped gently around me. I could feel his heartbeat, a rhythmic thud against the thin material of my shirt.

I was acutely aware of how little I was wearing and the feeling that every inch of my bare skin craved his touch.

“Ava, you are safe with me.” He brushed my hair back from my face, then lightly brushed his fingertips over my temple. “That animal left a bruise on you.”

A little sliver of guilt twisted through me because he was being so surprisingly kind, and it wasn’t anxiety making my heart race. I would have thought with all his intense self-regard, he would have seen right through the lie.

His body curved around mine, and my muscles went soft against him.

He breathed in sharply. “What do they feel like?”

My mind spun in a billion directions, none of them appropriate for two people who firmly agreed we could never be together. “What does what feel like?”

“The horns.”

“They’re a bit sensitive, I guess. In the cold wind.”

“What happens if I touch one?”

“Nothing, I think.” But as soon as I said it, I knew it was wrong, because just the thought of it sent a hot shiver through me.

He slid an arm free and reached up. One languid stroke up the curve of my horn left a sensual trail of heat in its wake, making my eyelashes flutter. Molten desire swept through me, evaporating the thoughts from my mind. I found my hips pressing back into him, and I heard his breath catch.

My back arched, and I turned to look at him. “Are you seducing me?”

He lowered his lips closer to my ear. “My demonic friend,” he purred, “if I wanted to seduce you, you’d be moaning my name right now. But I’m not trying, am I? Because you’re a pretty little demon I could never have.”

“I’d be moaning your name right now?” I stared at him, and my gaze slid down to the sensual curve of his lips. I hated how much I wanted to taste those lips again. “I can’t tell if you think this highly of yourself or if it’s all part of your kingly performance.”

“Oh, it’s genuine and very much warranted.”

My mouth twitched. “That’s just what everyone tells you when you’re the king. Like how Henry VIII was supposed to be the greatest sportsman of the era.” I wrinkled my brow. “Do you think maybe it was just that everyone was too scared to tell him the truth, given his habit of cutting off heads? Maybe all those nice Seelie ladies at Beltane didn’t want to piss off the High King. Maybe you’re the Henry VIII of fucking.”

He propped up on one arm and gave me a slow, wicked smile, his eyes darkening. A shadowy, sultry heat radiated off him. “Now that,” he murmured into the crook of my neck, “sounds like a fucking challenge, changeling.”