Page 69 of Adversary to the Villain

Much.

“If I were to become soup with anyone, I would want it to be you.” It was a tiny portion of all she wanted to say, but Trystan had a way of understanding her quips for what they were. He knew her worst fear: if she let the chips fall and took the risk, she could hurt him.

Not just that. She was destined to hurt him.

“I don’t like soup,” he stated.

“Yes, I recall. And I find that absurd.” She tapped the sides of her head. “You can’t dislike soup. Most of the time it’s just broth and vegetables.”

He didn’t flinch but contemplated. “I don’t care for food to be mushy.”

“You ate cake this morning,” she accused.

“That’s soft, not mushy,” he corrected, staring at her like she was the one spouting nonsense. But then his head snapped up. “Wait. The broth!”

“Isliquid,” she mused, disgruntled, watching with a tilt of her chin when he climbed the step stool adjacent to the overlarge cooking vessel.

Trystan peered in, rolling up his sleeve. “It’s boiling. That might work.”

“What?”

“If we spill the pot. Cookies crumble under boiling heat, no matter how stale they are.” He began rocking the pot just as Evie realized something alarming.

The knocking had stopped.

Because the door was open.

Greta stood there, her blond hair wild from the banging, her lovely face twisted into a frown. But she only had one thing to say.

“You don’t likesoup?”

Evie paused her terror to commiserate. “I know, right?”

“Sage! Move out of the way!”

She didn’t wait to see why, just dove toward the wall. Next thing she knew, a cord had snapped, the pot tipped, and scalding broth rushed for where Greta stood. The woman yelped, running from the room and the splashing hot liquid.

It hit Evie’s ankle just before she was scooped up and held in Trystan’s arms like a bride over a threshold. They were so tightly pressed together, she could feel his heartbeat, his muscles jumping underneath her fingers. Her eyes found his, and he held her waist tighter, mischief where there should be fear. “It’s interesting that dangerous situations seem to push us together instead of pull us apart, as the destiny monster declared,” he said.

“It’s not interesting. It’s sick and mildly cruel.”

“That, or the destiny monster is a liar,” he whispered resolutely, a rumble coming from his chest, mirth dancing in his dark eyes.

“I want to believe that,” she whispered. “I want to so badly. You must believe me; I…don’t want to be scared.” Emotion broke through then, a strained sadness making her voice crack on the last word.

He looked at her with a sureness she wasn’t certain she’d ever had—about anything. “You can be scared. And I’ll just…I’ll just be here.”

After laying a gentle kiss on her cheek, then the tip of her nose, he looked up to see the damage the broth had wrought, but the walls stayed in place, not softening or crumbling in the slightest. “Well. That’s disappointing.”

“Oh, but it wasn’t.” Greta’s voice startled them. “That was sosweet!” she squeaked, dabbing her eyes with what appeared to be a sugar cookie covered in cinnamon.

They were both struck speechless for a second, and then Evie’s mouth caught up. “It won’t make us tastier!”

Greta stared, her eyes moving to different parts of the room. She appeared confused, and then realization hit. “Did you two think I was going tocookyou?”

Theyhadmade that hop, skip, and a jump to that conclusion, hadn’t they? “Were—uh—” Evie started, folding her lips inward. “Were you not…going to do that?”

“What on earth gave you two such a disgusting idea!” Greta looked genuinely appalled.