When I’m about halfway done, a spoon appears, and I realize that Ciprian is attempting to feed me the soup. “It’s an appropriate temperature now.”
I almost make a joke to ask if he tested it with his tail, but I refrain and simply open my mouth instead.
His gaze locks on my lips as he feeds me, his cheekbones seeming to become more pronounced from him clenching his jaw.
I swallow, which appears to make it worse, because his eyes narrow.
However, he brings another bite up for me to consume. So I do. And we continue the dance for several minutes before finally, I grab his wrist and say, “The way you’re looking at me is starting to make me feel like food.”
“You are food,” he murmurs. “For me.”
I shiver. “Does that mean you plan to bite me?”
“Many times, yes. For eternity, I hope.” He pushes forward with the spoon, slipping it between my lips and watching as I swallow. “But you will give me a safe word first, something to say if I take too much or push too far. I do not wish to upset you again.”
“You didn’t…” I trail off.
I was about to say he didn’t upset me, which isn’t true. He infuriated me.
However, his explanations have helped me understand why he pushed me the way he did. And he does seem to be trying to talk to me now instead of merely using me for pleasure.
That doesn’t mean I feel safe, though.
Which is… strangely arousing. I shouldn’t like the way he’s staring at me right now—like I’m prey—but I do.
And since he can hear my thoughts, he knows it, too.
“Why can’t I read your mind?” I blurt out, wishing I knew what he was thinking right now. “I only hear you when you talk in my head.”
He straightens—and I realize he’s still kneeling in front of me, yet he’s so big that we’re eye level—and sets the bowl down on the table. “When we’re fully mated, you will have unfettered access to my every thought.”
“When?” I echo.
“When,” he repeats sternly. “You just need to pass the trials. Then you can be mine.”
“Trials?” I feel like we’re just reiterating words back and forth. But this one feels like a very important one to clarify. “Whattrials?”
“There are certain expectations of a Strigoi King’s mate, expectations that my kind will require you to meet.” He brushes his knuckles along my cheek. “Fearlessness is one of them. A willingness to breed is another. And loyalty is paramount.”
With those profound statements, he stands and turns toward the door just as someone knocks.
“Enter,” he calls.
A shorter man with silver-black hair walks in holding a tray. “My lord,” he greets. “I ended up making the hazelnut creamer from scratch, as it was faster than driving into town. If our guest dislikes it, I will go shopping.”
Ciprian looks at me. “Is this acceptable to you, Ms. Dalca?”
My lashes flutter. “That he attempted to make hazelnut cream… from scratch?” I ask slowly. “No. If I had known he would go through all that trouble, I would have just asked for some milk and sugar.” I look at the elderly male. “Please don’t feel the need to do something that extravagant for me. I don’t want to cause issues for the kitchen.”
The older man smiles, a pair of dimples appearing on his cheeks.
He’s really quite handsome for his age.
I imagine thirty or forty years ago, he acquired a lot of feminine attention.
Masculine attention, too, Ciprian says flatly into my mind.Radu prefers men.He faces me fully, his dark eyes grabbing and holding mine.I also happen to care for him a great deal. So if you could stop thinking about his attractiveness, that would be kind, as I do not fancy the notion of killing him. And yet, my inner beast is currently demanding his slaughter.
I blink, startled.Sorry. I’m not sexually attracted to him, King Negru. Just… noting that he’s attractive.
