“I wonder why the switching of our senses keeps happening,” she said. “I know you said you think it’s because we vowed to share all that we are, but do you think there’s more to it than that, since nothing’s sticking?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.” A shrug. “I was hoping you’d be able to tell me.”
Like the fact that he wanted to give her everything? Like the fact that he loved sharing this with her? “I’m glad it’s happening, and I hope you are too. No one else has ever had the chance to see the world through another person’s eyes, but we have. No one else has ever had the chance to hear through another person’s ears, but we have.”
“We’re special?” she said, a question when she’d probably meant to make a statement.
“We are. And maybe the abilities aren’t sticking because that’s what sharing is all about. Give and take. Ebb and flow.”
She nodded, satisfied with that. “Well, Mr. Special, I’m going to raid the pantry and cook up a feast,” she said. “Are you hungry?”
“Always.”
“Give me an hour. Meanwhile, prepare to be amazed.” She blew him a kiss, turned, and padded down the hallway.
“You’ll never give her up, will you?” Dr. E demanded from behind him.
Solo pivoted on his heel and faced the being who had so often given him terrible advice, laughed during his torture at the circus, and abandoned him time and time again, when Solo most needed help. “No.”
Dr. E popped his jaw. “Not even to save my life?”
“Not even.”
A pause. Heavy, oppressive.
“Very well,” the being said. “You have brought this on yourself.” With that, he vanished.
• • •
Vika found green beans, peas, carrots, and potatoes, and mixed them all together. She also found several packages of syn-chicken and was able to heat the pieces over the stove and drizzle them with a tasty butter glaze.
There were so many spices to pick from, she was a little overwhelmed. There were things she’d never even heard of. She used only the ones she knew about, not wanting to ruin the first real meal she would prepare for Solo.
At the farm, he would have chores for her. He’d already said so. She wanted to prove she could do anything he asked, that she could take care of him properly. And she prayed that she could!
She had no formal education. Her mother had taught her to read and write, and her knowledge had been limited, too. I have a quick mind, she assured herself, and I can learn anything. And . . . and . . . she knew how to sew. Yes! That was a perfectly acceptable skill. She would mend Solo’s clothing, and he would be the best-dressed farmer in the entire world.
And she could sell her jewelry and use the proceeds to buy him something special. Something he’d always wanted. She just had to find out what it was that he’d always wanted.
When the chicken was warmed all the way through and the vegetables were boiling, she turned off the stove and prepared two plates. Steam rose, and the scents caused her mouth to water.
Gold star for me, she thought, proud of herself. She’d sometimes watched the cook at the circus, knowing she would one day have to care for her own meals.
She picked up the plates to carry them to the table, but caught sight of her tiger outside the window. He had returned. He was no longer prowling, but lying between the trees, his tail waving slowly. He yawned.
A warm, strong body pressed against her back, and she shivered. Soft lips slid along the side of her neck, and the shivers intensified, wringing a moan from her. She set the plates down. Solo clasped her by the waist and turned her.
He kissed one eyelid, then the other. “I’m ready to share again.”
“Sharing is kind of fun, I guess.”
“You guess? No, you know.” He kissed the tip of her nose, one cheek, then the other. Then he hovered over her lips, his warm breath caressing her. “So what were you doing, staring out the window? Dreaming of me already?”
She walked her fingers up the ridges of his stomach, to his shoulders, and around, to his nape, intending to pull him down the rest of the way. “No, Mr. Ego, I was watching my tiger.”
His muscles bunched underneath her hand. “Tiger?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She pulled, but Solo resisted. “He was injured, but he’s doing better.”
Frowning, he lifted her off her feet and set her aside to press closer to the glass. He watched for a moment before jerking his head in her direction, his eyes wide.
“He’s wearing a bandage,” he said.
“I know.” Her ears began to ring.
“Who put that bandage on him, Vika?”
She heard him that time, and he had not sounded pleased. “Well . . .”
“Vika.”
“I did.”
“What?” he shouted. “You went outside? Approached a dangerous predator? When? While I was sleeping?” he added, answering his own question.
Exasperated now, she threw up her arms. “Yes, but X helped me. I was never in any danger.”
“There are traps out there, Vika.”
“Which is why X made me walk in strange places.”
A red tint darkened his skin. “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned him. X knew about it and didn’t wake me?”
“Why would he? You were sleeping so peacefully. And again, I was never in any danger.”
He worked his jaw, obviously trying to get himself under control. “X could have weakened, and the tiger could have maimed you.”
“But neither of them did.”
“How could you . . . why would you . . .” Shouting a curse, Solo pounded his fist into the kitchen counter, rattling the dishes.
Vika jumped, startled by the volume.
“Do you want to put me in an early grave?” he snarled. “Is that what this is about?” Another shout, another pound of his fist.
This time, the dishes bounced off the counter and fell to the floor. Nothing broke, but the delicious, amazing food she’d spent forever preparing was ruined. Vika peered down at the mix of yellow, green, and orange and despaired. Not only would Solo not discover what an excellent cook she probably was, he now needed a lesson about his temper.
“That kind of outburst won’t be tolerated,” she said sternly. “I dealt with that kind of thing all of my life, and I know you would never hurt me, but I won’t let you talk to me that way. I won’t have that kind of relationship with you.”