Lilian’s POV
“Are you trying to feed me, or fatten me up for a sacrifice?”
I stared at the mountain of food piled high on the plate in front of me. Eggs, bacon, toast, fruit, and something that looked suspiciously like a gourmet attempt at a hash brown. It smelled heavenly—grease and salt and comfort—but my stomach was currently doing somersaults that had nothing to do with hunger.
River didn’t turn around from the stove, where he was currently assaulting a pan with a spatula.
“You need calories,” he rumbled, his voice rough with morning gravel. “Stress burns energy. Fear burns more. Eat.”
I picked up a fork, poking at a strawberry. “You know, for a terrifying security specialist, you have very strong opinions about nutritional intake.”
“A dead client is a bad review,” he countered,
