Dreams Made Flesh

kitchen?"
    "Destroyed it. Right down to the last wooden spoon."
    Marian shuddered.
    "So the next time you want to do something kind for Jaenelle, make her a casserole or bake some nutcakes. But don't let her play in the kitchen."
    Putting a shield around his hands so he wouldn't drip yolk, Lucivar walked over to the sink and used Craft to turn on the water taps. As he washed his hands, he said, "Do I dare ask what's for dinner?"
    Marian hiccuped. "Eggs."
    He turned off the water and sighed. "Yeah. That's what I thought."
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    SIXTEEN
    « ^ »
    "I have work," Marian said as Lucivar hauled her out of the kitchen and into the eyrie's front room. Tassle followed them, making worried little huffy sounds.
    "The work will still be there an hour from now," Lucivar replied. She looked at the thick drops of rain hitting the glass doors that led to the lawn beyond. If it got any colder, that rain would turn to snow. "You're just doing this because you're bored."
    Using Craft, Lucivar moved the furniture against the walls, leaving a large bare circle of stone floor. "If I was bored, I'd go to the Hall and annoy my father. That perks up both our days."
    Bet it doesn't perk them up in the same way, Marian thought. "I don't want to do this."
    "Whining about it won't do you any good."
    Whining? She bristled at the insult. She wasn't whining. She was pointing out the obvious to a thickheaded male. Females did not use Eyrien weapons. Ask any Eyrien male…except the one standing in front of her…and he'd tell you that.
    Since being reasonable wasn't going to work, she lowered her voice and tried menacing. "I've got a skillet, and I know how to use it." His quick grin wasn't the reaction she'd hoped for. "That's fine," he said, turning. "Now you're going to acquire skill with a traditional weapon."
    "I'm not…"
    He spun back toward her, and shouted, "If you get hurt because you're too damn stubborn to learn how to defend yourself, I will beat the shit out of you!"
    Goaded by the unexpected verbal shove, she shoved back. "If you ever raise a hand to me, I will gut you!"
    They stared at each other. She had that one moment for fear to zing through her as she realized she'd just threatened a Warlord Prince. Before she could move, his hands clamped on her waist. One quick toss in the air. As she came down, he wrapped his arms around her lower back and buttocks and spun her around and around.
    "Ha! I knew you had it in you!" He laughed as he spun her.
    "Stop!" Marian grabbed his shoulders. "Lucivar, stop\"
    He stopped. Since the room was still circling, she clung to his shoulders. Her feet didn't touch the floor, which put them eye to eye. With her heart pounding, she dared to look at him, hoping he wasn't too angry with her.
    He didn't look angry at all. His eyes were lit with amusement, and he grinned at her as if she'd just done something wonderful.
    Giving her a friendly squeeze, he said, "That's my feisty hearth witch. Now give us a snarl. Say Grrrr!"
    Heat flooded her face. She pushed at his shoulders, wanting to get down, wanting to get away. He just tightened his arms.
    "I'm not putting you down until I get a snarl," he said.
    She looked away, mortified…and saw Tassle standing to one side, watching them. The wolf curled his lips, revealing an impressive set of teeth. After a moment, the lips relaxed. He waved the tip of his tail, then did the whole thing all over again.
    She lowered her head, let her hair fall forward to hide her face. Great. Wonderful. A wolf was coaching her in how to snarl, and the man holding her off the ground…
    She peeked at him. His grin had changed to that lazy, arrogant smile.
    …would hold her like this all day if that's how long it took to get what he wanted.
    She took a breath. Blew it out.
    As soon as she was free, she was going to hide in her room. He could fix his own meals, wash his own dishes. They'd just see how long he grinned about that.
    She took another breath. Blew it out.
    The way she was pressed against him, there was no mistaking his body's response to hers. And there were all those warm, lovely muscles under her hands, just waiting to be touched, caressed…
    Hell's fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful.
    Before she could do something stupid, she took another breath, raised her head, and said, "gr."
    Lucivar's arrogant smile faded. His brows drew together in a frown. "What a prissy little gr. But it will have to do." Sighing, he loosened his arms, letting her slide