Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Bronwyn’s nose wrinkled just the tiniest bit, and I bit my lip to hide my smile when I realized she was miffed as she stated, “So my blood is revolting to you?”
I wanted to laugh again, except she seemed genuinely upset by the idea. Dropping my head into the crook of her neck, I inhaled deeply before scraping a fang lightly along her delicate skin and smiling when she shivered. “Your blood is the exception, my sweet mate. My body craves your blood as much as it desires to be buried inside you.”
Her plump lips parted and formed a little O, and I couldn’t resist stealing a kiss. But before it got out of control, I tore my mouth away, took her hand, and led her to the kitchen.
Bronwyn gasped when we entered the large, bright room. It was a chef’s dream kitchen—or so I’d been told by the designer when I’d renovated the house after buying it a few years ago. I didn’t cook much, so it hadn’t been a room I paid much attention to. However, I’d let the man have free rein over it, and now, seeing the look of wonder and excitement on Bronwyn’s face as she eagerly looked around, I knew I’d made the right decision.
“This kitchen...wow,” she breathed. I guided her to a large island in the middle of the room and helped her into one of the chairs, all the while her eyes bounced around, taking everything in.
“I take it you like to cook?”
She nodded, but her cheeks dusted with pink once again. “Yes, although I’ve had very little experience. My mother and I used to bake together, and I often helped with dinner. After my parents died, I went into foster care and wasn’t allowed in the kitchen in my foster homes. And the shared kitchen at the boarding house is...well, let’s just say, I wouldn’t trust much that was prepared in there.” She let out a little laugh and shifted as though uncomfortable. “I’d be afraid to do anything in here in case I broke something. I’ve never even been inside a kitchen this fancy.”
I frowned and had to stamp down the desire to hunt down every person who’d put the sadness in my mate’s tone and tear their throats out. I made sure my voice was pleasant when I responded, “Well, this is your kitchen now. You can use it anytime you want and make whatever changes that please you.”
Bronwyn’s eyes widened and she glanced around again. “I wouldn’t change a thing. This kitchen was plucked right out of my daydreams.”
I nodded and smiled. “Good”—I winked—”and I promise, I’ll eat anything you make and love it.”
She smiled brightly for a minute, then pursed her lips as she tipped her head to the side in a curious gesture. “You eat real food?”
I laughed and kissed her cheek before strolling over to a tall cabinet with a door made of chestnut, matching the rest of the kitchen. Except it was the door to a large refrigerator instead of a cupboard. “Yes, I live on a diet of both food and blood. It will be the same for you when you’ve made the change.”
Since I was digging through the mostly empty refrigerator, I didn’t see her expression, but I whipped up at the sound of her gasp, whacking my head on one of the shelves. “Son of a bitch!” I snapped as I rubbed the sore spot and turned to face my consort.
She hopped off her stool and came running toward me. “Are you okay?” Grabbing my shoulders, she yanked me down so she could inspect the top of my head.
A feeling of contentment stole over me as my gorgeous, sweet consort fussed over me in our kitchen in our house. This was what my dreams were made of. Now, I just needed to make sure it was permanent. Which meant feeding her as soon as possible so I could get her upstairs and complete the claiming.
“I’m fine, angel. I have an exceptionally hard head.” Bronwyn giggled, but it was a little strained. When I raised my head, she was watching me warily and had started wringing her hands in front of her.
“What…um, what did you mean by ‘when you’ve made the change’?”
That was the moment I realized how foolish I’d been. I’d given Bronwyn some brief explanations before whisking her off to bed, but she probably had a plethora of questions she wanted answers to. “Go sit down, angel. I’ll make you a meal, and you can ask me anything you want to know.”
She did as I requested, and I went back to gathering ingredients. It turned out that I had all the fixings for pancakes...which wasn’t saying a lot since it was a mix in a box. At least it would sustain her until morning. I’d order us something to eat until the housekeeper managed to stock the kitchen. I doubted we’d be leaving the bedroom much over the next few days—the lust bearing down on me made it clear that my brothers had not been exaggerating. They’d warned me that it would be almost uncontrollable for a while. I could imagine that once I was inside my lovely Bronwyn, I’d never want to leave.