Page 45 of Stolen By The Beast
“Are you sure? Your mind is still hiding your memories. Perhaps this memory has been damaged?” Karvik tilted the bowl from side to side, watching it slosh around.
Scowling playfully, I bumped his arm. “Watch it! I worked hard on this meal. Now stop whining and eat it.”
Karvik straightened his spine, as though gathering courage. “Happy mate, happy fate. Correct?”
Raising a brow at his dramatics, I lifted the wooden bowl to my lips and sipped the quickly cooling soup. Karvik copied my movement and took a large gulp.
“See? It’s pretty good, isn’t it?” I smiled, happy at my accomplishment. Living off the land wasn’t easy, but I was learning.
Karvik coughed, but nodded. “Yes. It is very good.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Are you lying?”
The monster’s face remained impassive, yet when he took another gulp of soup, I didn’t miss the way he tried to hide a gag.
“Karvik! If you don’t like it, don’t eat it! It won’t hurt my feelings.” I tried to take the bowl from his hands, but he held it out of my reach.
“No. You did well,” he spluttered, choking on another sip. “It is good. Although I think it would be better without the soggy leaves, slimy mushrooms, and the water.”
I rolled my eyes. “It would just be rabbit meat then!”
“I know.” Karvik’s eyes twinkled like the stars in the darkening sky. “And it would be delicious.”
We dissolved into a fit of laughter, and I stored the moment in my memory. I was beginning to think I’d never remember my past, but I was okay with it.
Because Karvik was helping me create new memories that were filled with joy.
Chapter Fourteen
Karvik
Ithadbeentwofull moons since Juniper and I had made the decision to live as mates alone in the heart of the wilderness.
The passage of time had woven a rich tapestry of routines and shared experiences, strengthening the bond that had initially brought us together.
Our shelter, nestled deep within the woods, had evolved from a mere refuge into a home. Constructed from sturdy logs and reinforced with woven branches, it stood as a testament to our shared efforts.
Inside, the central hearth, once a mere pit, now radiated warmth, its flickering flames a constant reminder of our commitment to each other.
Animal hides lined the floor, providing insulation and comfort, while a makeshift table held the remnants of our daily meals that Juniper attempted to cook.
To be fair, she was getting better. Such primitive ways were foreign to how her kind had evolved, but it endeared her even more to me that she tried.
The stubborn female wouldn’t give up until she had perfected it. Every day, the tiny creature adapted more as she burrowed deeper into my heart.
In the mornings, when the weak sunlight bathed our shelter in a warm glow, Juniper would tend to the hearth, coaxing the flames to life like I’d taught her.
The scent of burning wood filled our home—as Juniper called it—creating a comforting ambiance that accompanied our morning routines.
Once I was sure she was settled, I would venture into the woods to hunt for our daily meals. Hunting wasn’t something Juniper enjoyed, and my nature proved more advantageous for stalking prey, anyway.
I didn’t hunt for long, loathing to leave Juniper alone all day. When I returned, we would prepare the game together.
Juniper used a knife I carved for her out of bone, and I used my claws to skin and cut the meat. Then, my tiny mate would put everything in a bowl, as she called, and cook it over the fire.
She left some of it raw for me, as this is how I still preferred to eat, but Juniper told me humans couldn’t eat like my kind did without getting deathly ill.
So even though the acrid scent of cooked flesh permeated the tiny abode we lived in, I was happy to smell it over the chance of my Chosen becoming sick.
