Tristan’s focus was entirely on the food he was preparing for himself and his mate, his movements sharp and precise. He didn’t notice the pair of eyes burning into him from the doorway.
Calista stood there, her face tightening with every second that passed. She had been waiting for nearly an hour, and Tristan hadn’t left the kitchen. Her patience was running thin, frustration clawing at her chest.
How will I ever make sure Tristan eats the food with the potion if he refuses to leave? she thought bitterly.
Her hands balled into fists. She was tired of standing there like a fool, but just as she turned to leave, she glanced back one last time. That was when she saw him finally dishing the food into a bowl, preparing to carry it out.
“Think, Calista. Think,” she whispered to herself, pani
