"It is actually more than one night," Azriel corrected. "And you don't even try to hide your jealousy, Pen."
Penelope flamed. "I am certainly not jealous!"
Azriel shrugged a shoulder. "Okay."
"I am not, my Lord."
"And I said okay."
He watched as her skin turned beetroot red. Where there should be fear for such a temper, Azriel found only amusement. Perhaps that was always what had drawn him to Penelope, that pride of hers.
"I have to go, my Lord," She said at last. "And please do not take this the wrong way, but I hope I never see your face again as I work."
"You don't mean that," Azriel said, closing the space between them. "And you can try, but you can't resist this pull between us."
"But I can," Came her set reply. "The day I don't resist it, feed me raw cactus."
"Is cactus ever cooked in the first place?"
