Lord Onyx glanced between the two of us before focusing solely on me. The tenderness in his eyes caused a soft knocking in my chest.
I broke eye contact by reaching for my glass of lemon water. No wine for me that night. Self-preservation, mainly. As my attraction to the demon lord intensified, so did the nerves bubbling in my gut: ones that would make me drink like five glasses of wine and end up booty dancing on the table or throwing up in one of the fancy vases against the wall. Rambling too.
So many rambles.
“Phantasia told me of your time today in the clinic,” Varys said from the demon lord’s right side, addressing Briar. “She says you were of much help and even taught her several things she hadn’t known.”
Briar sat across from me and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “I specialize in green magic, using herbs and plants, along with mana, to create elixirs and salves. She found it fascinating. Much of it she was familiar with but hadn’t tried before.”
“More than likely due to the speed at which demons and demi-humans heal compared to humans,” he responded. “Our immune systems are different as well. What our bodies can handle, you may have trouble absorbing, such as certain toxins or levels of mana particles.”
My brain often left the conversation once science-y stuff started being discussed. As they further spoke of mana and medicines, I scooted my chair back and gave Oreo a bite-sized piece of pork from my plate. He gobbled up the meat before licking my fingers.
“I understand you wishing to feed the furball, but you need to eat as well.” Maddox peered down at me, having turned in his seat to watch me. “You are much too small.”
“Tell that to my ass.”
Quincy spewed his wine. All over Baden.
The big blond gave him an indignant stare as he dabbed his tunic with a napkin.
“Have mercy.” Quincy scooted his chair closer to Duke. The knight trio sat at the end of the table, with Quincy in the middle.
“Don’t come over here,” Duke told him. “I’m not savin’ ya.”
With Maddox’s attention briefly diverted from me, I fed more pork to Oreo. Fane had told me that Fenrir preferred raw meat, so before dinner, I had cut up some steak for my good boy. But cooked meat wouldn’t hurt him, and he seemed to like it enough. And he deserved a treat or five. All the yummy things.
“Evan.” Maddox sighed my name.
“Okay, okay, I’m done,” I told him, then quickly fed Oreo another piece before scooting back up to the table. I shoved a bite into my mouth and stared at him as I chewed.
The muscle in his cheek jumped.
Callum sat on my other side and coughed into his closed fist, earning another sigh from our captain.
“Dinner is excellent,” Lord Onyx told me, adding another scoop of mashed potatoes to his plate. “Familiar ingredients, yet prepared in an unfamiliar way.”
“That’s good ole Southern cooking.” The sudden praise made me do an anxious wiggle in my chair. “I’m glad you like it.”
Koga entered the dining room with more wine and made his rounds, refilling goblets. His mane of red-orange hair had been combed back from his face, and he’d dressed up that evening, his shirt pressed and free of wrinkles or imperfections. It was difficult to imagine him as a commander in the demonic army.The gentle, poised, and even-tempered male in front of me suited him much better.
“Would it be possible for me to help in the garden where these were grown?” Lake asked, examining a green bean. “These taste well enough, but I believe they were sad before being harvested.”
I smiled down at my plate. Lake believed everything had a soul, plants and crops included. Back home, he had a garden and would visit it every day, speaking to the flowers, fruits, and vegetables. He had sung to them, too, if he felt their spirits were low.
“You’re sensitive to the life energies of everything around you, yes?” Koga asked. “A good skill to possess for agriculture.”
“The happier the crops, the better they taste.” Lake’s tail wagged. “The prettier the flowers too. I noticed the ones in the main courtyard have drooping petals.”
“Perhaps you should visit them on the morrow,” Lord Onyx said. “A song in your native tongue would surely lift their spirits.”
Another tail wag. “It would be my pleasure.”
“You know our native tongue?” Varys asked Lake.
“Aye. My father taught me all he knew. Language and customs long since gone from the world.”
“Not gone,” Varys said. “Your father kept our history alive through you, just as my mother did through me.” He then said something I couldn’t decipher. The words sounded lyrical, the syllables flowing like soft wind chimes in a whispering breeze.
