“Sit up, unless you want to end up with hair in your soup.”
I do as I’m told. I never want to experience being compelled again.
A bowl is placed in front of me, filled to the brim with mouth-watering tomato soup. It’s the best I’ve ever smelled. I greedily inhale as my stomach growls. I’ll bet everything I own that it tastes even better. I don’t remember the last time I ate, since time has no meaning in this place.
I lift my eyes to him to find he’s already watching me.
“It’s not poisoned. Eat.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I’m so hungry that I’d probably eat it even if it was poisoned.
My taste buds explode with the first spoonful. It takes all of my willpower not to pick up the bowl and drink it all in one go. He watches me with intent fascination, but weirdly enough, I don’t feel uneasy or awkward eating in front of him. It feels natural. Like something we’ve done thousands of times before. He waits until I’m finished before speaking.
“You must have a million questions,” he says, bringing a glass of red wine to his lips.
“Yes.” It comes out a little too eager.
“I’ll allow you three.”
I roll my eyes.
He continues, “And three more tomorrow at dinner.”
Of course there’s a catch.
“Why do you insist on having dinner with me when you don’t actually eat anything?”
He grins widely at me as he leans back into his chair, swirling the wine in a counterclockwise motion. “That was your first one.”
Infuriating man.
I open my mouth to retort, but I don’t trust myself not to let another question slip out, so I clamp it closed again.
“I insist on dining with you because I want to make sure you’re taken care of.” He glances away from me as if he’s embarrassed by the admission.
The bond between us hums at a different timbre. I’ve never been taken care of before. I’ve lived alone since I was sixteen.
A vision of the future flashes before my eyes, one I never knew I wanted. Knox and I are sitting together on my couch in my cozy apartment, laughing, watching movies. Being happy together.
I give myself a mental shake. This must be the bond playing tricks on me.
“And Iameating.” His teeth flash as he raises the glass to his lips and takes a big gulp.
The soup instantly threatens to come back up again.
I look at anything but him, trying to sort through all of my emotions so I’ll actually ask a question of substance. I have to be clever about this. Nothing too vague or I won’t get the answer I need. That’s if he even tells me the truth. This could be a bunch of bullshit for all I know. My questions must be direct, so he doesn’t answer in riddles.
“What is a Familiar, exactly?”
His brows knit together in contemplation. I brace myself for the human blood bag part…
“A Familiar is a companion of sorts. You serve me and do my bidding without complaint, and in return, I grant you a sliver of power. This is done through a very long and boring bonding ceremony, but the important part is that both parties must give consent to it, or else the spell won’t work.”
For the first time in a long time, I’m speechless.
Why does he need me to become a Familiar? And what does it have to do with me being his mate?
“What happens if I don’t consent? Will I be free of all of this?” I ask and realize I’ve used up my final question.
