Page 54 of Spellbound & Speechless
“Just rest,” she says. “If you’re lucky, I’ll make sure you have a sandwich when you wake up. I’ve been perfecting my grilled cheese, and Maple made tomato soup.”
“How kind.”
“I know. I don’t get enough credit for how kind I am.”
“You should… get more credit…”
“I agree.” After a moment, she speaks again. “You should get more, too, Mac. You know that, right?”
I say nothing, already dozing off.
“Mac?” Her following words are so faint I hardly register them. “Sleep well.”
Chapter 19
Aspen
The sun shinesinto our spacious kitchen as I stand near the stove, chopping sweet potatoes. Autumn is here. Everyone, whether witch or otherwise, knows what that means.
It’s soup season!
Cooking is like a graceful harmony. I may not be as talented as Maple, but Mom taught me how to cook, and I lived alone long enough to learn a thing or two on my own. Takeout was a staple when I was in New York, but the best treat was when I cooked for myself in my little apartment.
Cutting up the sweet potatoes is the hardest part of the recipe. What they make up for in vitamins, they lack in chop-ability… or maybe I’m not as talented in the kitchen as I thought.
I don’t dare touch Maple’s sharpest knives. The last thing I need is to face her wrath. She may not seem like the type to get angry, but no one wants to be on her bad side.
This knifeshouldbe able to do the job, anyway. I jam the silver blade into the hard potato and apply pressure, squinting as I force my way through the tough, orange vegetable.
I inhale and remove the knife. Another forceful chop. And another. And?—
“Ah!” I bite my tongue to keep a curse from flowing past my lips, but as the sting hits me, it’s harder to hold back. “Mother… mother lover…”
The orange of the potato mixes with the red of my blood. I step away, eyes wide, as I desperately search for a clean towel. Heavy footsteps run toward the kitchen, but I pay no mind, grabbing a paper towel and pressing it to my finger.
Grimoire… where is the grimoire? I can try a healing spell, in a pinch. I think Maple is watching the grimoire right now, but… where is she?
I don’t get to yell her name before firm hands grab my shoulders and icy eyes peer into mine. “Are you hurt?”
My brows furrow. “Mac, I’m?—”
“Who did it?”
A sly smile plays on my lips, and I push closer. “Someone lovely and talented, but not so talented with her knife skills.”
He blinks. “What are you saying?”
“Me.” I lift my hand, showing him the cut. Blood is still dripping from the wound, but it’s not that deep. “I did it. It’s nothing—just a kitchen accident. It happens to even the best kitchen witch, and I am certainly not the best.”
He exhales through his nose, his eyes closing. “Let me take care of it.”
“I was going to use a healing spell, but I don’t know where Maple is?—”
“Please.” His eyes fling open, meeting mine with urgency. “Let me take care of you.”
The words soothe something in me, warming me to my core. He sounds, well, protective. I guess he always hasbeen, but the feeling of safety is especially present when he guides me to our shared room.
Adrenaline and desire dance together. Goddess, I want him.
