Mila

The moment the words were out of her mouth, she regretted saying them. Her question was far too open-ended, and though Pierce seemed like a good guy, things could get really awkward if he tried to use her offer for sex. Mila wasn’t going to go down that route with him, despite the physical attraction she knew she felt toward him and his gorgeous physique.

She watched his thick, but not overly unruly eyebrows furrow slightly as his face scrunched up, then spread apart as his facial muscles relaxed. The strong prominent nose twitched as well, but other than those two miniscule moves, he gave no indication that he’d understood the double edge to the question.

“I don’t know,” Pierce replied at last, and she could see from the look on his face and the awkward phrasing of his words that he had realized the implications behind her question as well. “The food is, I think, a good start.”

“Right,” she said, nodding fiercely and picking up a package of chicken and several potatoes. “Is this enough for the both of us?”

He smiled and added another large potato. “If I get three-quarters of the chicken, then yes, I’ll be good.”

She looked at the package, shrugged, and then grabbed another one from the counter that hadn’t yet been put away. “I’m hungry too,” she said, justifying the extra food.

Pierce just smiled and took the chicken from her. “I’ll get these cleaned up. Find me a frying pan, some oil, and point me at any spices you may have, and I’ll take it from there. You’re in charge of potatoes.”

“Deal,” Mila said, happy for the distraction. “Mashed fine with you?”

“You had better believe it,” he said happily, already pulling chicken from the package, brandishing a long knife he’d taken from her block.

“So is the fact that you can’t stand large crowds the reason why the shifter population is so low?” she asked, still curious about his kind.

Pierce didn’t respond at first, and she wondered if he’d heard her question. But a quick glance showed he’d stopped cutting the chicken and was standing there, his body language thoughtful.

“You know, I never thought of it that way,” he said. “Though I’m also no expert on the subject. Shifter culture wasn’t really, ah, something I cared a lot for,” he admitted, though he didn’t go into further detail.

She was going to ask another question, but he kept talking.

“Plus, we fought. A lot.”

“Amongst yourselves?”

“Yeah. I mean, you know how we’re organized into large territories now, scattered around the globe?”

She nodded, knowing her history there. “Yeah, about two hundred years ago they were created, right? As a way of keeping the peace between you and us.”

He nodded. “We were being hunted, pursued as demons and the like for centuries. At first we’d just run away, but by then we’d started to fight back. You started losing.” Pierce’s voice turned softer. “At least, that’s what I’ve been told, I wasn’t there. But the bloodshed was growing, both between humans and shifters, and between various groups of shifters. So the enclaves—the strongholds, whatever you want to call them—were created, carved out of the land, and we moved into them. Peace reigned, both between our two species, and between shifters as a whole.”

“Two hundred years of peace?” she said. “That’s impressive.”

He looked angry. “Until recently. Did you hear about that?”

She nodded. “It made the news, about that other stronghold and yours.”

“Fenris,” he said nastily. “They attacked my homeland, attacked Cadia. But we’re strong, and we fought back. We were winning last I knew, but I don’t know what’s going on now.”

Mila stayed quiet. Obviously the topic bugged him. She didn’t sense it was the fighting though. It was something else, something he’d been involved in because of the war, perhaps? She wasn’t sure.

“Something big was happening right when I blacked out.” He hit the counter, but not hard enough to do any damage, clearly restraining himself. “I wish I knew what it was.”

Although the subject obviously bothered him, Mila could see the way his shoulders had relaxed as he spoke. The more he talked to her the less tense he became. His bear was getting distracted.

“Did you fight in the war?” she asked when he didn’t resume speaking.

Pierce shook his head. “No, I wasn’t done with my training.” His voice changed as he spoke, but he didn’t elaborate on the meaning behind that, either.

She resolved to back off the subject for a bit. Whatever it was, his involvement, or lack of involvement, clearly bothered him a lot. She didn’t want him to get worked up. Keeping him talking was essential though, so she needed a new excuse. Something that would have him distracted.

Think, Mila. Think.

“So what about you, Pierce?” she asked. “Is your wife going to be missing you? Should we notify her?”

Not that, you idiot. Seriously, that’s the best you could come up with? Asking him about a wife? You basically just confirmed that you’re flirting with him. A guy you met this morning. Good job. You weren’t supposed to feel any emotions for him. That wasn’t part of the plan.

It was too late now though; the cat was out of the bag.

“I don’t have a mate,” he said, triggering a memory in Mila.

Shifters didn’t marry, she recalled. They found a mate, a person that they stayed with for the rest of their life. “Right,” she said. “Sorry, I forgot.”

He waved it off, his back still to her as he cut the chicken up into two parts, and started dropping them into the frying pan. Almost immediately the smell of whatever spices he’d used filled the room.

“That smells delicious,” she said, her mouth salivating as she tasted the air over and over again.

“If there’s one thing we know how to do, it’s cook meat,” he said with a laugh.

“Good, because honestly I’m terrible at it,” she admitted. “I can make excellent sides, and my baking skills are, believe it or not, actually rather impressive. But meat? Nope.” She smiled. “That was my dad’s job growing up. He was the barbecue man. ‘The Grill Mastah,’ he called himself,” she said, laughing at the memory of her dad, even as it weighed down on her now the state he was in.

It hurt to see such a powerful man, the superhero of her childhood, laid low by age and disease.

“But anyway, I never really learned how to do much. I can bake a few dishes, but that’s about it. And with no man around to do it for me, I don’t eat much meat,” she said, testing the potatoes which had been boiling away steadily now.

They weren’t ready yet, but that was fine. The chicken would take a bit to cook yet.

“You don’t seem to be home often enough for it to matter,” he said. “Though maybe if you had someone in your life, you might have more of an urge to be.”

Mila turned away, unsure of how to respond to such a comment. It wasn’t that he was wrong. Oh no. In fact, the comment hit home rather hard if she were honest with herself. She didn’t need a man in her life. The past several years had clearly demonstrated that.

But there was a large difference between needing a man and wanting a man. Over the past six months or so, she’d found herself slowly realizing that it was a want she did have. Not just for the sex, though it had been quite some time since she’d had that either, but for the companionship.

Mila wanted a best friend, someone she could share everything with, who could be there for her when she needed it, but also who she could care for. Right now all she had was the job, and Ellie. The cat was amazing, but she wasn’t overly companionable, except when she wanted it. Which suited Mila’s current lifestyle just fine.

But things were likely to change soon, and she wondered how she would adapt to it.

The pair of them had fallen silent, standing to either side of the stove as they tended to their own individual parts of dinner. Mila thought about asking if he wanted anything besides meat and potatoes, but then decided she didn’t want more. That sounded just fine to her.

Pierce pulled the chicken from the pan, setting it equally on the plates, just as she began to mash the potatoes. He’d made so much that it covered nearly three-quarters of each plate. But however he’d blended the meager spices she had together, it smelled so good. Her entire house smelled like it now.

“It needs to sit for a few minutes anyway before its ready,” he told her. “So no worries.”

She nodded, relieved that they weren’t waiting on her. Her eyes glanced over at the dinner table, making sure it was set and ready for them. The fewer the hiccups, the less stress Pierce would have to put up with.

Then an idea came to her. With a spoon she put large clumps of the nice and fluffy potatoes on each plate.

“Yum,” Pierce said, taking both plates and heading for the table.

“Wait,” she said, placing a hand on his back and stopping him in his tracks.

Mila slid by him to the table, where she grabbed napkins and cutlery for each of them.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“We’re not eating here,” she informed him.

“We’re not? Where are we going to eat? Your formal room that hasn’t been touched since you staged it when you moved in?” he teased.

Mila turned her head to the side, sticking her tongue out as she walked out of the kitchen.

“Nope,” she said, and then pulled open the door to the basement.

“Mila,” Pierce began.

“Shove it,” she said politely. “Now get your ass down here.”

She hurried down the stairs, looking around for something to make into a table. A laundry basket caught her eye, and in a flash she snatched it, upending it and setting it down in the middle of the carpet.

“Here we go,” she said, pointing at it so that Pierce wouldn’t protest.

He just smiled and set both plates down carefully. Mila waited till he was seated, then she moved to the bottom of the stairs and dimmed the light as low as she was comfortable with to eat under, and then joined him. Passing out the cutlery, she tried to avoid his gaze, but she kept sneaking peeks.

“What?” she asked at last.

“Nothing,” he replied. “Just once again marveling at how understanding you are.”

“It’s my house,” she said. “I don’t want you trashing it. Down here is different.” There was a smile on her face as she spoke though, and his eyes laughed with delight.

“Of course,” he replied, then gestured at the plates. “Shall we?”

Mila nodded. “Dig in.”