Still…she was out there. Alone with him. Who knows what could happen.
“You are not surprised to learn this,” Cruxan commented, studying her.
Crystal pressed her lips together before meeting his gaze. “He was…he seemed struck by her,” Crystal confessed.
Cruxan’s head dipped. It took her a little while to realize that she was staring at him, staring at the warm, knowing expression that came over his features. Startled, she cleared her throat and turned her head back to the fire.
Changing the subject, gesturing to the strange bulbs he’d found, she asked, “What are those?”
His look told her that Cruxan knew what she was doing, but she was relieved when he said, “Water gourds. Though they are a rare variation I have not seen much.”
Cruxan lifted the creature he’d killed earlier, taking up the dagger which laid between them. Crystal knew that this was how it was done. Still, it was hard to watch him skin and clean the meat, though he made quick, expert work of it.
Soon, he laid out thin fillets of the reddish purple meat onto the mountain stone he’d been heating close to the fire. It immediately sizzled, cooking, the smell making her stomach growl once more.
Cruxan took one of the bulbs from the fire and cut a small notch at the top. Then he poured it over his bloodied hands, cleaning up. Once emptied, he tossed it to the side and notched another.
He handed it over to her. “Drink, female.”
Crystal hesitantly took it from his hands. She looked at it warily, remembering that the liquid he’d used to wash his hands looked a little cloudy. “Is it safe?”
“Tev,” he said. “Would you like me to drink from it first?”
She relaxed a little and shook her head. The only way to know was to try it and considering there wouldn’t be bottled water or a drinking fountain out here, she figured she couldn’t be too picky.
Hesitantly, she placed her lips over the notch he’d made and lifted the bulb up. She made a sound of surprise when the water hit her tongue. “It’s sweet,” she exclaimed when she pulled away.
He’d been watching her, something in his gaze that she didn’t want to linger over. But then he frowned and asked, “Is that bad?”
“No,” she said. “It’s just surprising.”
“It is a rare variation,” he repeated. “It tastes different than other water gourds. Luxirians do not prefer the taste. Do you?”
“Yes,” she said. Now that she thought about it, Luxirian food had no sweeteners. It was mostly meat based, with tart fruits instead of sweet ones. Huh. Luxirians didn’t like sugar, she supposed.
Her suspicions were confirmed when Cruxan plucked a gourd from the fire’s edge, notched it, and drank. For a moment, she was transfixed, watching him. The column of his throat was strong and long and it bobbed as he drank.
At the taste, he grimaced once he emptied the gourd and the expression on his face brought an unexpected chuckle out of her, surprising even her.
Cruxan’s face softened when he heard it, which made her heart thump.
“I guess youdon’tlike sweet things,” she commented, taking another sip from the bulb. It was delicious and she was already eyeing another one.
“I like sweet things,” he corrected, but his tone made her blush. He wasn’t talking about food or drinks.
Avoid, avoid, avoid.
“I should turn the meat,” she mumbled, edging around the fire, slightly away from him. She took one of thepillervabark pieces, using it as a spatula to flip the meat over as best as she could.
Luckily, Cruxan didn’t try and flirt with her anymore as she cooked the meat, watching it like her life depended on it. After a tense moment, he turned and went to rustle through the other materials he’d brought back with him.
After he sorted through them, he took a long black stem, one from a plant she briefly remembered seeing on their walk that day. He sliced it open with one of his claws, revealing sticky, clear juice inside.
His gaze came up to her. “Come here,luxiva.”
Her breath hitched. When she made no move towards him, his lips quirked and he came to her, crouching in front of her next to the fire.
He dipped his finger into the sticky substance and moved to touch her face, her forehead, where she’d cut herself.
