THERE WERE ingredients all over the damn kitchen.
I’d taken every single item out of the cupboards and shelves to see what I could possibly make for my mate that wouldn’t result in her losing her meal after five minutes—or, in last night’s case, before she’d even had a chance to ingest it.
“Maybe I should try a different type of peach tree,” Sol suggested as he rubbed the back of his neck. He was just as frustrated as I was about Claire’s latest pregnancy symptom.
We were in charge of Claire’s well-being while Titus dealt with his family and Cyrus went with Exos to make final arrangements for today’s meeting with the Hell Fae—something none of us were very keen about, especially now.
All the more reason for Claire to be nourished and at her best. And I had about an hour to make that happen.
I held up the remaining bag of grains I’d used to make porridge, something painfully simple and bland, but maybe she’d be able to keep it down. The bowl steamed on the counter, cooling while we waited for Claire to awaken. I hated to give my mate something so tasteless, but nothing else had worked yet, and I was determined to give her body something to keep up with her—literal—growing demands.
“Ugh. This isn’t going to work,” I said, slamming the package down. The bag burst open as my magic spiraled out of control—again—sending food and packages tumbling over the counter from a powerful gust of wind.
Sol frowned as a lump of troll fat tumbled onto the floor. “Maybe we should make a new dish and tell her it’s a popular human food? That worked last time, right?” he asked as he stomped over to the rubbery substance, the ground trembling in his wake. He plucked the fat from the floor and placed it back onto the counter with a mild smile. “She still eats it when we call it bacon.”
I rolled my eyes. “She’s not going to fall for that again.” A whimper caught on the wind swirling through the hall, telling me Claire was awake again. I straightened and grabbed the bowl of porridge. “You woke her up with your stomping around.”
Sol followed me—still stomping—as I briskly walked with a lighter stride to the master bedroom. “Yeah, I’m sure the crash of food all over our kitchen had nothing to do with it,” he muttered back at me.
“What are you guys arguing about?” Claire moaned as she shifted within the bedsheets.
Fae, she was gorgeous, even more so now with that alluring curve to her belly. Her nightgown clung to her as she moved, revealing plump breasts with nipples hardening against the chill wind I’d brought into the room. I immediately found the warmer currents from higher in the rafters and began to bring them down.
Seeing Claire like this made my stomach do flips. The child would be born in roughly four or five weeks, and soon she would struggle to keep up with the accelerated growth of the faeling inside of her.
“Not too fast,” I warned her when she slipped her foot over the bedside and tried to stand. She stumbled, her sense of balance seeming to fail her—likely from lack of food.
She grabbed onto me.
“Oh,” she said, smiling when I caught her with ease, using a kiss of wind to wrap warm currents around her body so she wouldn’t be cold. Goose bumps sprinkled over her arms before she sighed into the embrace of my magic.
Sol took her elbow, steadying her until she waved us off, determined to stand on her own two feet. “Stop fussing. I can walk just fine.”
I narrowed my eyes at her as she swayed again.
“You need to keep up your strength,” I said. Her once flushed cheeks were now sunken in. Her golden locks had flattened after too much time rolling over her pillow, and when she turned, I spotted hints of her rib cage as her gown clung to her back. Her arms and legs had lost their lean tone, and I wasn’t the only one worried that she wasn’t getting the nutrition she needed.
I held up my latest effort—porridge. “Can you eat?”
She eyed the dish warily. “No spices?” she asked.
“None.”
She glanced at Sol. “No fruit… or fat?”
He smirked. “Neither fruit nor fat,” he confirmed.
She took the bowl and sat on the edge of the bed, staring into it. “I feel like I have a bowling ball in my stomach,” she muttered.
I smiled even though I had no idea what a bowling ball was. “Here,” I said, taking the spoon and offering her a bite. “Give it a try.”
She gently blew on it, although that wasn’t necessary. I used tendrils of air to run over the offering to make sure it was the perfect temperature before it reached her lips. She took the spoonful, tried to swallow, then clamped a hand over her mouth before making a strangled sound.
I snatched up the bowl before she flung it onto the floor, and she ran to the bathroom.
Sighing, I handed my failed attempt at a meal to Sol. “Could you get rid of this, please? And add porridge to the list of foods she can’t eat.”
Sol cocked a brow. “I think we’d have a shorter list of things she can eat.”