I don’t say anything, just sit there smugly as they serve me, curious how they’re choosing. But then it becomes clear as I watch. These decisions aren’t random, their shadows manoeuvre between and hover over certain plates, searching and selecting. If I were to make them a plate, I know how I’d start. With things I love.
That’s what they’re doing, offering me small tastes of their favourites.
And I love it. It’s like they’re feeding me parts of themselves, and I’ll gladly indulge.
“Mon âme… is something wrong?”
I blink, realising I've been staring at a plate that they’ve stopped filling. Then I glance at their plates—empty. “Just wondering why I’m the only one with food in front of me,” I say. “We all eat on Fridays, remember?”
All the men are lit into action, using their hands or shadows to select certain dishes.
When another item is placed onto my plate by a familiar sliver, my gaze follows it to Kane. He’s been so still and silent, but now his eyes are locked on me.
Slowly, he cuts into a piece of meat, brings the fork to his lips, and eats. But his gaze never leaves mine, making the simple action of eating a silent decree.
He’ll do anything I ask him.
I feel myself losing my cool disposition as I shamelessly stare, and when Kane swallows, his lips twitch. Barely. But enough.
The bond swells with a mix of amusement and heat, as soft chuckles break my focus. And finally, they all start eating. Not because they’re hungry, but because I asked.
I don’t think I stop smiling as I eat.
They keep eating, talking, but their attention never really leaves me. Every shift of breath, every flicker of bond energy, like they’re taking mental notes on my reactions. Which things make me hum, which make my eyes flutter close, which do I reach for again until a shadow intercepts.
When I try some mashed potato, it’s so unexpectedly rich and creamy that I sigh. The bond spikes. Every fork freezes.
I look up. Kane’s fingers tighten around his knife, Ezekial’s jaw flexes, Julien clears his throat, and Sai stares like I just licked the plate clean.
I lower my fork slowly, swallow, then reach for my drink like nothing happened.
Soon, I’m too full to consume anything but wine. I lean back in my chair, sated and happy.
“Thank you, Julien,” I say with a full smile. “That was… perfect.”
“I helped,” Sai cuts in, leaning closer.
Ezekial scoffs. “What, peeled a potato?”
“More than what you did, didn’t see you in the kitchen.”
“You know where I was,” Ezekial mutters, dropping his gaze.
Oh. I don’t like that feeling at all.I look to the others for clues, but only Kane holds my gaze.
“Preparation for lockdown removal.” His words cut clean through the warmth of the evening.
They’re all watching me again, but it’s not hunger in their eyes anymore, far from it. It’s hesitation swaddled with dread, barely hidden behind a well-practised façade of calm.
But now, I know them all too well to miss it.
“I can’t believe it’s happening tomorrow,” I murmur quietly, not quite sure what else there is to say.
We fall into silence, but they don’t need to speak, not when I can feel them through the bond. Their fear weaves deep, buriedbeneath fracturing control, but before I can ask why, Julien explains.
“You’ll be able to leave.” His smooth voice is clipped with tension. “If that’s what you choose.”
“You said you’d stay, but...” Sai’s voice is too quiet, too uncertain. I despise it.
