As soon as they finished, Anachelle got up to take his plate. Ture appeared out of nowhere to tsk at her. Removing them from her hands, he carried them to the sink.
Sighing, she gave Maris a droll stare. “I feel like an invalid.”
“I think he’s taking revenge on you for the way I treated him while he was wounded.”
She sat down. “Really?”
“Yes, it’s true. I wouldn’t let him lift anything. I was quite demanding.”
“He was quite annoying in a very sweet and precious way.” Ture poured him a glass of dessert wine.
Maris frowned at him. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“Depends...would it work?”
Maris smiled. “Sorry. I know my limits and I never go near them.”
“Too bad. But this won’t. It’s barely alcoholic and it enhances the aftertaste of the chocolate. Try it.”
Anachelle reached for another napkin. “You might as well. He’s always right about food... People, not so much.” She took her juice from Ture’s hand. “Thank you, boss.”
“You’re welcome.” He ran back to put out a fire.
Literally.
Maris started to get up, but Anachelle stopped him.
“Don’t worry. Happens a lot with the newer chefs. Ture only freaks when it catches someone else on fire.”
“Someone?”
“Cooking can be deadly.”
After a few minutes, Ture came back to the table. “Was I right about the wine, or was I right?”
“Yes, you were. About everything. I honestly have to say that was the best meal I’ve ever eaten. Thank you so much for it.”
Ture beamed.
Anachelle grimaced and let out an audible groan. “Ah no, you’ve fed the beast. Mari? How could you betray me so? I have to live with that massive ego that already takes up half the apartment!”
Ture rolled his eyes. “You need to go on home and get some sleep for me.”
“I still have another hour on the clock.”
“Don’t worry about it. Head on before traffic picks up.”
She grinned at Maris. “Dang, I should have gotten knocked up by a bastard jerk a long time ago.” Rising, she paused by Ture’s side and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you later.”
Ture slung the towel in his hand over his shoulder then turned back to Maris.
“How long have you been friends?” Maris asked.
“A good five years. She’s an angel, but the baby’s father is the son of a senator. I don’t know which one. That bastard has made her life hell. He had her thrown out of her old apartment and has been causing all kinds of trouble for her.”
“Why?”
“He wants her to leave the planet and vanish. My fear is he might have her killed.”
Maris saw red at that. “You want to move her to the palace for protection?”
Ture cringed. “I would hate to impose.”
“I can speak for Darling. The place is large enough no one would even know she was there. And he would extend the invitation himself if he were here, especially given it’s one of the CDS family members who’s harassing her.”
Ture loved how protective both Maris and Darling were of those around them, even strangers. “I can ask her, but we commoners are a little intimidated by the places you frequent so naturally.”
Maris smirked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I see nothing common about you, or Anachelle.”
Ture smiled at the unexpected compliment. That was why he loved Maris so much. No matter what he said or did, the man made him feel special and comfortable.
Safe and protected.
Wanted.
Things he hadn’t felt since he was seventeen and his father had caught him kissing his first boyfriend and thrown him out of the house.
You’re disgusting! Damn you to hell! I can’t believe I buried my daughter and not you! Get out. I hope you die of an infection before any of my friends find out about you!
To this day, neither of his parents would speak to him. And the cold brutality of their actions was nothing compared to the words they’d said that were still branded into his soul.
The worst part? His parents had called his boyfriend’s mother and father to tell them, and in retaliation, his boyfriend had beaten the hell out of him for it. Ture still bore the scar on his left cheek from his boyfriend’s class ring that had torn into his face as Devilyn rained punches down on Ture’s face.
But that was a long time ago and he refused to think of it anymore.
Maris stood up and looked about awkwardly. “How much do I owe you for the food?”
“No charge, love. My gift of thanks to you. For everything.”
“Thank you, then.” Maris hesitated. “I guess I should leave you to your work.”
“I’d rather you stay.”
Maris swallowed hard at words that meant a lot more to him than they should. You need to go.
But he didn’t really want to. “Are you sure?”
He nodded. “We’re only open for another thirty minutes, anyway.”