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Padding into the living room, I collect pillows from the sofa and arrange them atop the fur rug. At last, my joints slump before the hearth. The fire toasts my feet and blooms a marmalade hue on the walls.

I listen to echoes of the satyr puttering in the kitchen, crockery and spoons clinking. He returns, settling beside me and offering a steaming mug. I take a sip, milk and melted cocoa pouring down my throat.

“You have hot chocolate in Faerie?” I ask.

“Come now,” he says. “What do you take us for?”

Indeed. Dairy and sugar. Two delicacies that Faeries covet.

Puck guzzles his chocolate in one throat-pumping swallow. Setting down his cup, he scoops my feet into his palms and massages the toes. “Cold little piggies,” he croons. “Poor things. What have you done to them?”

I can’t help laughing, then sobering as he circles his knuckles into my heels. When he hits a particular spot, I sigh.

“Better?” he rasps.

I nod and focus on his strong fingers rubbing, pressing. With every touch, lightning streaks up my limbs until my body’s buzzing. My eyelids shudder, then flap open as he releases me.

Puck rises abruptly and stalks back to the kitchen. I blink from my stupor, my blood raging, my thoughts feverish. He makes a great deal of noise from the other room, his agitation evident in the clash of pans and cutlery.

I don’t overthink it. I simply get to my feet and shuffle to the doorway, where his back faces me. Something fries in one of the pans, emitting the aromas of butter and maple syrup.

Distracted, I inch closer and take a peek. “Pancakes,” I exclaim.

Puck gives me a sideways smirk. “Like I said in The Seeds that Give. You didn’t give me the chance to whip up the batter before getting yourself glamoured into a mushroom trap. Inconsiderate of you, luv.”

He hands me a plate of three cakes, then helps himself. Instead of perching at the island, Puck leans his hip against the counter and spears the food with his fork, shoving in mouthfuls.

My stomach lurches, and my mouth waters. I feast on the pancakes, inwardly moaning at the flavors, both mortal and immortal. The sugar is richer, the syrup smoother. Yet the salted butter is everything I remember from my world.

I finish before he does, my belly sated—the rest of me decidedly not, especially when I peek at the Fae dominating this kitchen. The lattice of his abdomen. The final droplet trickling down his temple. The beat of his pulse, thudding like a button in his neck.

Never once have I witnessed Puck avoiding my gaze like this. It’s as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself and needs to keep feasting, to keep swallowing, to consume anything but me. I sketch the tension in his wrists. The tick in his jaw.

An ache builds in the nexus of my thighs. My heart pumps, savage and erratic. Moisture pools between my thighs as I will the satyr to look at me.

I want his attention. And then I want the rest of him.

I want his lips on the wet cleft of my thighs. I want his body surging into mine, his hips going wild between my legs. I want my lips strapped around his length, sucking on him until every sinful word he’s ever learned skitters helplessly off his tongue.

I fixate on Puck’s bent head and the movements of his mouth as he chews—then stops chewing. He goes rigid, his nostrils flaring. I realize the instant he’s scented my arousal.

The air thickens in this cabin, while fierce creatures roam outdoors. The rain splatters the windowpanes, blotting out the landscape.

Slowly, his throat siphons down the last of his meal. Then his head drags toward mine, his gaze darkening, targeting.

I’m brimming, vibrating everywhere. My breasts hang heavily, my palms sweating, my lips parting. I can barely stand this prolonged silence.

“You’re throbbing, luv,” he says.

I lick my lips. “Yes.”

Yes. The word seeps into the air, begging, demanding.

It’s all the invitation Puck needs. He chucks the plate aside. My breathing hitches when he swaggers in front of me, bracketing his bulky arms on either side of my quavering form.

Embers glitter in his swollen pupils. “Where else are you throbbing?”

We stare at one another while I hitch my right leg off the floor. My sole plants on the lower cabinet door behind me, my knee flanking his hip. “Find out,” I pant.