Zander
I woke early the next day after a fitful night’s sleep. I’d angered Fatima last night in her home. I wasn’t sure what I’d said or done, but she was not pleased with me as I left. I wanted to stay and ask what I’d done wrong, but Fatima was not one to be pressed for answers she did not want to give. So I left and went over our conversation again and again to no avail.
Today was a new day though. A new opportunity to impress her and show her my worth. I brought out my smooth cooking stone that I used when making food at home and placed it over the fire. Once it was warm enough I put on a few pieces of the boar meat to cook in the same way I’d seen Orsu do it.
While the fatty meat cooked, I headed over to the dining hall where Orsu and Julie stored all their basic food supplies and grabbed a bowl full of the pancake mixture. I also grabbed a variety of other foods to cook for lunch. It worried me that there was so little Fatima could eat, and I wondered if I put out a full spread of options if we could find at least one other food she could keep down.
I made it back to my cabin just as the first slices of bacon needed to be flipped. I cooked and plated the meat and then mixed the pancake powder with water and fruit.
About mid-morning I saw Fatima’s door open. She shielded her eyes against the bright morning sun and yawned. She was beautiful. Her soft delicate tan skin glowed in the morning light. Her black hair hung beautifully down her back, and I longed to know if her lips felt as soft as they looked.
I opened my door as she walked down the path and called to her. “Come, I have your breakfast.”
My heart filled with joy as the corner of her mouth turned up in a smile at my greeting and she sauntered my way.
“Good morning to you too,” she smirked as she entered my home.
“Good morning,” I smiled in return.
“It smells good in here,” she sighed with a contented expression on her face.
“I have cooked some of the boars meat and I am making your pancakes now,” I informed her.
“Sit, it will be ready soon.”
“Bossy,” she muttered under her breath with a smile, but she did as I asked.
I served her the cooked bacon then flipped the pancakes over.
“Did you sleep well?” Fatima was too thin for my liking, hopefully that would change today. If she was also struggling to sleep, I might insist she stay with me until I can think of a solution for that too.
My cock stirred in my pants as I pictured exactly how I’d like to help her fall asleep. Tired from hours of pleasure and safe in my arms. I pushed those thoughts aside. I wasn’t sure if she saw me as a romantic partner at all. Yes, I made her cheeks heat with my demands, but her attraction might end there. I mourned the fact that I would never glow for her. I knew the lack of luminescencemade me less valuable to many of the females here. I just hoped Fatima wasn’t one of them.
“I slept fine. It will take some getting used to being in a cabin by myself.”
I wanted to remind her that she could sleep here, but I doubted that would gain me a different result than it had last night. Fatima needed more time and more wooing.
“Is something burning?” She asked as she sniffed the air. I cursed under my breath.
I’d gotten lost in my thoughts and the pancake closest to the center of the cooking stone had turned black. The other’s were fine, so I quickly plated those before they could burn as well.
“I will give this to Jelly once it cools,” I lamented. Kayla’s pet bison liked food scraps. She was a gentle creature and I liked feeding her little treats.
I looked into the bowl of pancake mix and frowned to find it empty.
“Don’t worry about it,” Fatima must have read my thoughts. “I’m almost full anyway. Besides, it’s a right of passage to burn pancakes the first time you try to make them.”
“I doubt you’ve ever burned pancakes,” I teased. Fatima was a perfectionist to the core, I’d noticed that about her right away.
“Well, no,” her cheeks flushed a dark red.
“Where did you get this cooking stone?” she asked. “I honestly hadn’t thought about cooking since we crashed here. Orsu and Julie are so good at it, there hasn’t been a need. Well, until now.” She looked down at her belly and frowned.
“It was my mother’s,” I confessed. “I will find you a cooking stone if you like, but I am happy to cook your meals for you.”
“You can’t make me pancakes and bacon three times a day,” Fatima laughed, but the joyous sound died in her throat when she caught the serious expression on my face.
“Why not?” I asked.
