Swaying the Marine's Loyalty by Charlie Richards

Author:Charlie Richards [Richards, Charlie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781487408367
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Zakhar banged around the kitchen. Usually cooking relaxed him. Unfortunately, all he felt was tension.

His beloved had asked for some time alone.

Alone.

Away from him.

While Zakhar’s instinct had told him to give Armand whatever he needed, part of him also wanted to keep him close. What if he took off again? Just the idea caused his gut to clench. It took every bit of self-control to continue preparing the batter for chocolate chip cookies instead of heading out to find his human.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Zakhar spun to face the speaker, flinging batter off his spoon and onto the counter. He spotted Remy sitting on a bar stool. Aleksei’s human beloved reached out, swiped his forefinger through the glob, then popped the still goopy batter into his mouth.

Remy hummed in appreciation.

“It’s not ready,” Zakhar warned.

“I know,” Remy responded, peering at the bowl on the counter. “But who can resist cookie dough batter. So yummy.”

“The eggs haven’t been cooked,” Zakhar stated. “You shouldn’t eat raw eggs. As a human, you could get salmonella.”

Surely, Remy knew that?

Remy snorted. “Yeah, and that hasn’t stopped generations of humans from using raw eggs in protein shakes and millions of people from kids to old ladies from eating cookie batter.” As he spoke, he waved his hand negligently. “After finishing adding the flour and chocolate chips, bring that big bowl over here with a spoon. I’m totally stealing some.”

Unable to help himself, Zakhar chuckled and nodded. “After I get the first batch into the oven,” he countered. “Then I’ll give you a couple cookies worth on a saucer.”

Huffing a sigh, Remy rolled his eyes. “Fine!”

Snickering softly, Zakhar returned to measuring and stirring in flour. He stirred steadily, mixing vigorously. The physical activity gave him the distraction he needed. It cleared his mind.

Zakhar grabbed a pair of lightly greased cookie sheets. He spooned a dozen round balls of chocolate chip dough, spacing them evenly, onto each. Setting down his utensils, he picked up one of the trays, opened the oven, and slid it inside.

Next, Zakhar crossed to the cupboard and grabbed a small saucer. He brought it back to the counter and laid it beside the bowl. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a clean teaspoon and used it to scoop out a couple of small dollops of batter. These he took to the bar and placed in front of Remy.

“Thanks,” Remy said, gripping the edge of the plate and pulling it toward him. “I remember the last time my mammy made cookies. They were snickerdoodles, which happen to be my brother’s favorite.” He used his fingers to pick off a small piece of the dough on the plate. “They were for his seventeenth birthday. I was fifteen at the time.”

“Mammy?” Zakhar asked, unfamiliar with the word. “What’s that mean?”

“Oh, my grandmother,” Remy explained, smiling fondly, perhaps at the memory. “She was my mother’s mother. Wonderful woman.” Before popping the bit of food into his mouth, he added, “She told me to be myself, no matter what.”

“That’s always

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