Something about her reaction, her obedience, was…thrilling to him. But he could not explore that feeling, could not allow himself to fall into it.
He took his seat next to her and stared down at the food piled upon his plate. His tail twitched behind him through the opening of the chair. A fork lay beside the plate, set atop a paper napkin. He’d seen humans eat countless times, had seen them use their hands and all manner of utensils, but that didn’t diminish the strangeness of sitting at a table himself with steaming food in front of him.
Food that had been prepared for him.
Taking the fork in his fist, he poked the tines into the mound of noodles and scooped a wad of them up. They dangled from the utensil, dripping sauce onto the plate. He lifted it higher, frowning at the wiggly food.
So undignified.
Nyte bent his head down and brought the spaghetti Bolognese to his mouth. Noodles brushed his lips, painting them with sauce, so he opened them wider and extended his tongue, seeking to hook the noodles and draw them into his mouth. More sauce splattered his chin before he closed his mouth around the bite.
A soft laugh escaped from Ember.
Sliding the fork free, he shot her a glare.
She picked up a napkin, and with gentle strokes, wiped the sauce from his face. “I guess you’ve never eaten human food before, have you?”
He shook his head distractedly as he regarded her. He should’ve felt patronized by what she’d just done, should’ve been insulted by the implication that he could not clean himself, but he felt only…cared for.
Yet another disarming feeling in this mortal’s presence.
But he was afforded no time to dwell upon that, because the flavor struck him all at once. It was intense and complex, comprised of so many little parts, and yet each piece complemented the others to create a harmonious whole.
Tentatively, he chewed. The feel of the food in his mouth, being crushed by his teeth, was undeniably odd. But the experience wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, the texture of the food somehow enhanced the taste. An appreciative hum rumbled from him.
Ember grinned. “You like it?”
With a nod, he swallowed the mouthful, jabbed his fork into the pile, and shoveled more into his mouth. He barely noticed the sauce splattering his skin this time. It didn’t matter.
Like Starling had said, he had eternity. Cleanup could come later.
Ember chuckled and picked up her fork. “Here. Like this.”
She stuck the fork into the pile of pasta and twirled it, wrapping the noodles around the tines. When she lifted it, most of the spaghetti was wound in a bundle, with only a couple short ends dangling. Far neater than his attempts.
Ember brought the fork to her mouth, and Nyte watched her lips as they parted, as she slipped the food past them, as they closed around the utensil before she pulled it free.
That heat inside him intensified, burning like the sun at the center of his chest. Those lips looked so soft, so pliable, so tender. He had to fight to keep from envisioning them wrapping around something else. Had to fight to keep from wondering what they would feel like against his skin.
Her pink tongue slipped out to lick a spot of sauce away from the corner of her mouth.
He forced his eyes away and focused on his food, mimicking her technique to scoop up another forkful of pasta. It was the only way to keep his thoughts from straying down another path.
But he could not hide from the understanding that such flimsy distractions would not long hold his growing desires at bay.
Chapter Eight
When Ember emerged from the privy, her face was free of makeup, and she was wearing a short, black satin and lace nightdress that left very little to the imagination. Nyte’s legs tensed as though they’d decided on their own to carry him toward her, but he willed his feet to remain in place, keeping his back against the wall and his arms across his chest.
There was so much of that lovely skin exposed.
He gritted his teeth and curled his claws into his arms. His tail, that wretched thing, happily wagged behind him. He pressed himself more firmly to the wall, pinning the appendage in place.
Ember raised her arms over her head and gathered her hair. The action lifted the hem of the nightdress higher on her thighs and made the fabric mold to her breasts.
Nyte’s gaze roamed up those long legs and fixed upon her chest, where he could see the outlines of her nipples.
Fuck.
