Page 42 of The Barren Luna

“I’d never thought about it that way. You make some excellent points.”

I knew – I don’t know how, but I did – that he was not just saying that to humor me. He'd genuinely thought about what I’d said, and he found merit in it. I’d missed the feeling of being seen, heard, acknowledged, and valued. It was dizzying, in a good way.

“Do you think about food a lot?”

I finished chewing the bite of sausage before responding.

“Oh my God, this is so good,” my eyes almost rolled back, and he seemed oddly pleased. “To answer your question – I used to. Not only was I in charge of the kitchen menu and ordering all the supplies for it, but I was a hobby chef as well. I’d always said that in another life I would have been a real chef. I even checked out the castle kitchen one day with Laura and Kelly, I couldn’t resist,” I sheepishly admitted and his eyes lit up.

“Well, there you have it! Why don’t you do that? Be a chef!”

“Oh, come on, like it’s that easy,” I brushed his enthusiasm off, even as I felt its tiny tentacles drawing me in as well.

“It is! Join the kitchen staff and see how you like working in a kitchen that size. Later, if you want, you can also sort of intern at a restaurant my family owns here in town. Why not go for it?”

“All of that sounds so... good?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” he grinned, and I grinned back.

“I’m not even sure,” I covered my face with my hands.

“Would you feel better if you weren’t just handed the opportunity?” he asked, and I wondered how the hell he had guessed what was behind my hesitation. Maybe he would have felt the same.

“Honestly, yes! Can I work for the chance somehow? Please let me make my own life more difficult for myself,” I laughed, feeling no shame at acknowledging my backward logic because he was being so cool about it.

He pressed his lips together, frowned, and tilted his head back, looking at the ceiling, deep in thought.

“I know! Cook dinner for me and my closest friends next week. As a job interview of sorts. What do you say?”

“That sounds perfect. Do you have any type of cuisine in mind, any dietary restrictions, any preferences?” my mind was already making a grocery list before we’d even agreed on the day of the dinner.

“Nothing of the sort; you have complete creative control since we’re all very chill omnivores,” he winked, and I smiled widely and giddily.

His smile fell and he just kind of stared at my mouth in a way that made me feel self-conscious.

“Well,” I fidgeted with my teacup to avoid his eyes and where they were looking, “thank you, David. I am excited and grateful. And scared,” I admitted.

He took a drink from his own teacup, and simply said: “You’re welcome, Gina.”

I liked that. It was new, more grown-up than Ginny.

When we were both done eating, David suggested we take our coffee on the terrace. Unfortunately, as soon as we got there, I was assaulted by the extreme cold. Everyone, including myself,kept forgetting that without my wolf, I was no longer running as hot as my fellow shifters were. I was basically human in that sense, and I was freezing. David quickly noticed and immediately realized our shared mistake:

“Shit, you’re cold! I keep forgetting, let’s go back inside,” he was already dragging me by the elbow.

“No, it’s so nice out here; I want to enjoy the fresh air. Please, just get me a blanket or a jacket or something, and I’ll be fine; go, run!” I playfully shoved him and he did, indeed, run.

He came back in less than a minute, carrying a huge deer hide, which he promptly wrapped me in before depositing me on the plush armchair. The terrace had a breathtaking view of the clear blue skies and the white mountain peaks, and again I was painfully aware of how this was something to be cherished, never to be taken for granted again. How ironic that the darkness of the dungeon had shown me the light, I chuckled to myself.

“Feel like sharing?” David asked while handing me my cappuccino in a dainty cup.

“I’m just enjoying the view and thinking about how it should be cherished.”

“I agree,” he said, looking at me with that intent stare again.

If I had my wolf, I’d surely be looking away by now. Instead, I looked my fill – the messy brown curls, the kind, intelligent eyes, the full lips that looked as soft as rose petals, the wide, strong neck, the broad shoulders pushing the fabric of his dark green button-up shirt to its limits...

“Well, I can safely say I’d never used a deer hide like this,” I jolted us both from the reverie we were in.

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