Page 60 of Sanctuary and Spices
“Let them try.” I tilted her face up for a proper kiss. “Nothing can touch us tonight.”
The bond sparked between us, making my markings pulse with light. The garden responded, vines curling closer to shield us from view. In our private sanctuary, there was only us. Only now.
Until another crash rang out, followed by Soryn’s bellow: “Pix! Put that down!”
Jani sighed. “To be continued?”
“Count on it.” I pressed one more kiss to her lips before we emerged from the garden.
JANI
The early station cycle brought a hush to the Wanderer’s Rest. I balanced on a ladder, reaching for a stubborn Jhrya vine that had wrapped itself around one of the overhead beams. Below me, fragments of conversation drifted up from the breakfast crowd:
“Did you hear about the new trade routes?”
“Three ships lost in the outer sectors...”
“They’re saying the resonance patterns are all wrong...”
I tugged at the vine, careful not to damage the delicate leaves. “Come on, you little troublemaker.”
“Need help?” Ronhar asked from behind me.
My heart jumped. Even after weeks of marriage, he still snuck up on me. “I’ve got it. Though you could tell your plants to behave better.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” His hands settled on my waist, steadying me as I stretched further. “Besides, they like you better anyway.”
“Flatterer.” The vine finally came loose, releasing a shower of silver petals. “Catch!”
He plucked the vine from my hands before I could drop it, his hands gentle as he touched the delicate plant. “You’re getting better at handling them.”
“Had a good teacher.” I climbed down, brushing petals from my hair. “Though some are still more stubborn than others.”
“Like someone else I know?” He pulled me close, his markings brightening at the contact.
Heat pooled in my belly. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“No?” His fingers traced up my spine. “So, you weren’t the one who rearranged my entire herb storage system yesterday?”
“It needed organizing.”
“It was organized.”
“By color? Really?” I poked his chest. “What kind of system is that?”
“One that worked perfectly well until someone decided-”
The kitchen timer chimed, saving me from defending my obviously superior organizational skills. “That’s the bread. Don’t think this conversation is over.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
I slipped from his arms, heading for the ovens. The morning rush would start soon, and we still had prep work to finish. But his presence followed me, a warm awareness through our bond that made my skin tingle.
The kitchen smelled of fresh bread and brewing tea. I pulled the loaves out, setting them to cool as the first real wave of customers arrived. Their chatter filled the café:
“Those new trading restrictions are getting ridiculous-”
“Did you try the blend from yesterday? Amazing!”
