“I don’t,” Micah said, and his dominance made Sasha shiver. He wondered, though he’d never ask, what Micah liked when it came to subs. Hell, did he even know? Probably not.
“I just meant, I get it if you don’t think well of us. I wish I’d… been able to help Zev more.”
“You’re good people. You and your mate.” Micah looked lovely in the firelight with his hair loose around his angular face, his wide eyes somber and intent as he watched Sasha. “Which is why I don’t think you should let me stay here. I think I… do something. To people, places. I think I’m better off alone.”
“Nah. Viv used to think that, too, see? And then she got me, and I was annoying until she loved me—and now, well, I’m still annoying.” Sasha stood up, grinned, and went to the kitchen. “How about some stew?”
“I don’t— All right.” Micah must have realized that it was impossible to argue with Sasha when he was determined to do something. Being submissive meant he was used to channeling his natural alignment to help people, even when they didn’t think they needed it.
“I made this, you know,” Sasha said, shoving an earthenware bowl at Micah. He put his bare feet up on the table, wriggling his toes, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the comfort of the sofa, and even the slightly suspicious expression of the cute dom next to him. “I’m good at cooking. I have lots of skills, even if I ain’t the best at smart stuff.”
Micah took a bite, then another and another. “It’s good,” he said after a moment.
Sasha beamed. “Thanks. You can have more. I make a lot. And don’t worry, it’s fine that I’ll have to get more food and stuff. Viv needs to eat, too. You’ll both be fat and happy by the end of the winter.”
“I can’t stay here that long.” Micah ate another bite. “I can’t… This isn’t my home.”
“It isn’t, but it could be. We’ll figure it out. Just… eat, and rest, and see what happens, all right?”
Micah took yet another bite, then put his bowl carefully on his knees. “Are you ever in a bad mood?”
Sasha thought about it. “Sure. I get frustrated when stuff doesn’t work right, or when I’m hunting and scare off a deer, that kind of thing. Or when people are mean to my friends or to Viv. But mostly, I’m pretty easygoing. How about you?”
“I.” Micah paused. “I don’t know.”
“That’s all right,” Sasha said, putting his hands behind his head. “You’ve got time to figure it out.”
* * *
Micah dreaded mealtimes when he was a boy.
It was easy to keep out of his parents’ way when they were off hunting, fixing the house, or doing the other myriad tasks it took to make it through a winter in Lukos. Making himself scarce was one of Micah’s earliest skills. But at breakfast or dinner, when his parents pulled up a seat by the fire, Micah had to drag himself away from his book and join them. His mother would inevitably try to make him talk, and Micah would sit there with shame twisting in his belly and a knot in his throat, unable to say a word.
Breakfast at Viv and Sasha’s was nothing like that. Sasha burst out of the bedroom at an unholy hour, startling Micah from his sleep, and disappeared into a small alcove next to the kitchen. He came back with a bag from which he pulled a fruit with papery, pale yellow skin, which he peeled away to reveal soft white flesh. He bit into it and tossed another at Micah, who almost didn’t catch it.
“Food on the run,” Sasha said, as Micah peeled back the skin of his own fruit. It smelled strange but not unpleasant. “Those are maiden tears. No idea why we call them that. My sister grows them in her house, ends up with buckets of them.”
Micah took a tentative bite and sat there with the fruit held to his mouth, staring at Sasha. The flavor was tart and sweet at the same time, wholly unlike anything he’d tasted before. He wouldn’t have thought an island as harsh as Lukos was capable of making something so delicate.
“Good,” Sasha said, while Micah had a quiet, revelatory experience over a piece of fruit. “I’ll tell her to bring more. She’ll be thrilled. I’m off to hunt; be back in… when I’m back.”
Micah forced himself to look away. “You’re not waiting for Viv?”
“Nah, it’s not her thing. Sometimes she’ll forage in the morning, if she’s feeling up to it, but I’m the hunter in the family. Stay here, and I’ll come back with something you can really sink your teeth into, yeah?”
Micah wanted to tell him that the fruit was enough, but Sasha was already heading for the entrance, whistling softly.
He looked down at the fruit. Maiden tears. That probably had some horrible origin, if Lukoi folklore had any say in the matter. His father’s stories were always grim warnings disguised as fairy tales: Don’t go swimming in spring. Don’t eat unknown berries. Don’t be too quiet, or too loud, or too… Micah.
Viv was still in the bedroom. If Micah was careful, he could use Sasha’s hunting trip to take his leave. He could slip away, maybe find another shelter. His parents’ old house had been torn down for salvage ages ago, but there was always something. Even the cave where the Lukoi first lived.
But while Micah didn’t know Viv and Sasha as well as he knew Zev, he was more than aware that they’d traveled across Lukos as soon as they heard Zev was in danger. They’d been willing to fight Dragan for him, if it came down to it. Micah doubted he could convince either of them to just let him go.
Micah set the fruit down on the table and pulled out his book, thumbing through the pages. There was a whole section devoted to recipes, and he stopped at the one he needed, looking around at Viv and Sasha’s kitchen.
Viv didn’t come out for a while. When she did, her hair was carefully brushed and pulled back in a braid, and she was wearing a thick blue dress with deep red, puffy sleeves that narrowed at the wrist and black stripes along the hem that twisted like a snake when she moved.
Micah blushed. “Sorry.”
