Chapter 311: Sharing Food With Orion

The moment Orion’s teasing drifted into the air — that careless little jab about the medical facility "fitting her" — Sophia stared at him like he’d just grown horns.

He swallowed his last bite, looked up, and froze under her glare.

"Oh?" she said slowly, voice dipped in faux sweetness. "How exactly does your ogre brain think I’m perfect for that place? The entire building smells like crushed herbs and misery. And the herbs are bitter. My tongue is traumatized."

Orion’s mouth twitched. "My ogre brain?"

"Yes," she emphasized. "Ogre. Brain."

"So we’ve moved from me being dumb to me having an ogre brain," he told her.

She rolled her eyes. "I told you before that you being dumb was debatable."

He huffed a laugh, leaning back in the chair like he had all the time in the world to endure her complaints. Then, without argument, he sliced off a small piece of lamb and held it out to her.

She stared at the meat. Then at him. Then the meat.

"No," she said, drawing the word out.

"Suit yourself." He shrugged, unfazed, and popped it into his own mouth. "And for the record, I was joking. I want you out of here more than you do. I don’t even like being in this place. Smells like boiled leaves and sadness. But I’ve been here for over a week now because of you."

Sophia’s eyes softened as she stared at him.

"Well, that’s because you like me," she told him.

"Obviously," he replied, not missing a beat. "And I like you a lot too."

She laughed at that.

For a moment, they both just sat there in the warm quiet of the room, the faint light of torches outside flickering through the window, snow drifting gently past the window like the world itself wanted to hush and give them privacy.

Then he spoke again.

"I already asked Marta if you can leave tomorrow."

Her head snapped toward him. "You what?"

Orion blinked at her like the answer was obvious. "I asked Marta if you can leave tomorrow," he repeated to her.

"And... you didn’t think to mention this earlier?" Her voice rose, incredulous.

He lifted one shoulder lazily. "I wanted to see you sweat a little."

She slapped his arm with her bandaged hand. "You’re impossible."

"And yet," he said smugly, "you ended up with me as a mate."

"I ask myself every day how that happened."

"Fate," he said with a hum. "And because we suit each other. Perfectly."

He paused, then added, "Anyway, Marta said you can leave tomorrow morning. She’ll come by early to check you one last time before we go."

Sophia’s entire face brightened like someone had lit a torch behind her eyes.

"Really?"

He nodded.

She grinned suddenly, grabbed a small piece of lamb from his parchment, and stuffed it into her mouth.

Orion stared. "Did you not just reject the food two minutes ago saying you didn’t want to gain weight?"

She shrugged innocently. "But you said if I gain weight you’ll help me lose it."

He blinked at her in slow disbelief. Then his lips curled into that small, crooked smile that always gave him away. "Unbelievable."

She grinned openly as she finished the tiny piece, licking her fingertips.

Then her expression shifted again.

"Orion... did you only bring meat?"

He smirked. "No. Of course not. What do you take me for? I brought barley pilaf too. And a drink. Something easy on your stomach."

He reached for the folded parchment on the table, loosened the bindings, and began taking things out — first a small wooden bowl filled with fragrant barley pilaf mixed with soft herbs and tiny cuts of root vegetables, then a wineskin with a waxed stopper.

He set them carefully on the bed beside her leg, close enough for her to reach without straining her healing arms.

Sophia eyed the food.

"So...?" he asked her.

She raised a brow at him.

"You’re going to make me ask again?" he said, exasperated.

"Apparently."

"Fine." He handed her a wooden spoon. "Will you eat?"

She took the spoon without breaking eye contact. "Thank you."

"You’re welcome," he muttered, like a man deeply offended by her politeness.

She dipped the spoon into the pilaf, lifted the bite, and the moment it hit her tongue—she closed her eyes and let out a soft, involuntary moan.

Orion’s hand froze halfway to his mouth with another lamb piece.

He swallowed thickly. "Sophia..."

"What?" she asked innocently, opening her eyes.

"I’m trying," he said, voice low, "to control myself right now. And you doing that isn’t helping. Your body is still recovering, and you keep tempting me."

"Tempting you?" she repeated, amused.

"Yes," he said without shame.

She scooped another spoonful, slowly. Deliberately. The corner of her mouth lifted.

"You’re dramatic."

"Tempting," he insisted.

She laughed softly and reached for the wineskin. She opened it, sniffed it, then poured the drink into the wooden cup he’d given her earlier.

The scent rose — light, warm, and comforting. A blend of sweet winterberry, a hint of honey, and a soft floral note from Nirvana’s frostbloom petals.

Sophia took a mouthful, then she looked at Orion.

She signaled him with her hands to come closer.

He arched a brow but leaned forward anyway, chair creaking slightly beneath him.

Closer.

A bit more.

Soul-warm breath met his cheek when she finally reached out with her bandaged hand and curled her fingers into the collar of his tunic, tugging him toward her.

"Sophia—"

She cut him off with a kiss. It was just a touch of their lips, but then their mouths opened and she fed him the drink from her mouth.

Orion made a low sound in his throat — half surprised, half pleased.

He swallowed the drink, lips never fully leaving hers, one hand instinctively reaching to steady her shoulder.

She pulled back finally, breath warm against his lips.

"You like that?" she whispered.

He stared at her. Really stared. Eyes dark, caught between laughter and desire and something softer.

"Sophia," he murmured, voice rough, "you’re playing with fire."