A Beast's Tale

Chapter 68

She wasn't in bed with me when I woke up the next morning, but the smell of pancakes wafting through the air made her whereabouts easy to determine. I rolled onto my back and stretched. She always woke me up before she got out of bed, and I much preferred waking up with her than without her. My stomach was less particular. Its growl reminded me that we hadn't eaten dinner last night, beyond a snack partway through the evening of the squished beignets from the kitchen counter. I got up and headed into the bathroom, glancing at the corner where our dirty clothes were accumulating. The red negligee had a place of prominence at the top of the pile.

Theresa was getting a raise and a bonus.

I cleaned myself up in the bathroom and grabbed a new pair of pants from my luggage. Ivetta enjoyed me shirtless far too much for me to bother covering up. Besides, she was wearing my shirts. They looked much better on her than on me, anyway.

Except she wasn't wearing one today. She was standing over the stove in a plain white nightgown, one that I recognized from the night of her last major nightmare. I could visualize the scar across her back as I leaned against the open doorway, watching her. She hadn't brought it up since confessing her fears on our first night here. Neither had I. This week had thus far been the best of my life, and I was not about to ruin it by bringing up a difficult topic such as her past.

She was humming.

I really loved that sound.

A stack of finished pancakes at the back of the stove kept warm while she worked on the next one. The batter in her mixing bowl looked to be almost gone. I scanned the rest of the kitchen while she worked. No more beignets on the floor or the counter, no more powdered sugar dusting every surface we'd touched. That was probably why she hadn't woken me up earlier. I wouldn't have stopped her from cleaning it up, as it was quite an obtrusive mess, but I wouldn't have been particularly helpful to her, either.

My eyes wandered back to her, up and down her slender frame clothed in thin white fabric. Her long, silky black hair cascaded down her back and past her waist, drifting across its white background as she shifted her weight from one foot to another. She set down her spatula for a moment and stretched her arms above her head, interrupting her humming briefly as her back arched and she sighed contentedly.

The pancakes smelled delicious, but she was far more enticing.

I walked up behind her as she picked up the spatula again, wrapping my arms around her waist and kissing her neck.

"Good morning, Chevalier," she giggled, flipping the pancake.

"Come back to bed," I murmured in her ear.

"Don't you want breakfast first?" she asked teasingly.

"Later," I replied, sliding my hand down and across her stomach to her hip. "Why are you wearing this?"

She shivered at my touch. I smiled to myself. This wouldn't take long.

"Theresa had the foresight to only pack nightgowns like this. I guess she figured - ooh!"

My nibbling at her earlobe had triggered her self-interruption.

"Now is really not the best time," she gasped.

"Why not?" I asked, rolling the fabric at her hip up, bit by bit.

Her hand was trembling as she flipped the finished pancake onto the stack. There was still a little batter left. She reached for the bowl, determined to complete her task in spite of my advances.

"Well, the hot stove and the open flame could be problematic," she replied, her voice shaky as she poured the final pancake.

I nipped lightly at her neck, pleased by the violent tremor that shook her frame.