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Six Sentence Sunday – Their UnBearable Destiny

“He certainly had no issue with yelling his opinions at me no matter who was in the vicinity.” Drawing in a breath, she started in, mimicking her father’s tone with great skill. “You’ll never be the mate he needs if you can’t cook a decent meal. he needs a woman graced with all of the feminine arts!”

“So,” he watched her carefully, trying to gauge her reaction, “that’s what I’ve been missing all of this time? A good meal?” He shook his head with a sigh. “Well, maybe there’s more?”

“More?” She narrowed her gaze at him. “What more?”

“Feminine arts? What exactly fits under that category? Needlepoint? Hand sewing? I’ve always wanted hand-knitted socks!”

“I’ll gut you with my claws and then you won’t need socks.”

He heard the grumbling under her breath, but at least she didn’t try to maim him.

Yet.

 

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