{"To find a sanctuary is to find a part of yourself that has been waiting to be discovered." }
TOR'S POV
The scent hit me before I was fully awake, smoky, earthy, and unmistakably familiar.
I blinked open my eyes, groggy and still half-drunk on the way Freyr had curled against me last night, how his lips had murmured soft words against my skin until I drifted off. But now the other side of the bed was empty. And the house… was warm.
I sat up slowly, pulling on a shirt as I padded barefoot toward the kitchen. Freyr stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, his usually immaculate hair a tousled mess. He moved with quiet precision, setting down a steaming plate of eggs, roasted root vegetables, a slab of cured venison I'd kept tucked awayand then turned as I entered the room.
He smiled softly. "Good morning."
"You cooked," I said, it if it were magic. Maybe it was.
