“I don’t need to eat anything, little flower, but there are things I crave.”
“Like?” What could be so tasty, a god would crave it?
“You. Now stop asking me questions you are not ready to hear the answers to.” His response shuts me up, but it makes me even more curious about his reply. What part of me does he crave?
He leads us through the sea of tables to one in the far back, where he places the food down and directs me to sit with a look. It’s strange how much he can say without even opening his mouth.
“Why are you smiling?”
“I am?” I question, then school my features.
“I didn’t tell you to stop. I asked you why.” He manages to make his scowl heard through his words as he takes the seat across from me. I wonder if he feels like the chair was made for a child since he dwarfs it.
“I was just thinking.”
“About?” His eyes narrow in a clear sign of suspicion.
“How much you say without words.” I start to pick at my food. “You have all these looks that tell me what you’re thinking, or at least I think they do. You wanted me to sit in this chair, right?”
“Yes, but why is that funny?”
“I don’t think it’s funny.”
“It made you smile,” he reminds me, still expecting an answer.
“I guess I like the idea of knowing what you want without you having to say it.” I lift a shoulder. “I didn’t even realize I was smiling.”
“So long as it was me who made you smile.” He leans back in his chair. I would say he was smug by his tone, but his face doesn’t give that away. If anything, he looks impatient.
“So no smiling for anyone else. Got it,” I tease.
“It seems you can read me, little flower.” His chin drops an inch or two, and the swirling in his eyes becomes almost mesmerizing as he levels me with an intense stare. When he speaks again, his deep voice is pitched low and intimate, despite our surroundings. “What am I thinking now?”
Heat immediately flushes my cheeks, and I’m forced to break eye contact. His chuckle rumbles through me like a physical caress, and I’m not the only one who notices. Several chairs squeak as people turn in our direction. He acts as if he doesn’t notice, but Ziv notices everything, so I know that’s not the case.
“Eat so I can take you away from here.” His voice is still low, but the edge of heat is dampened, making it so I can at least look at him again. I do as I’m told, eating nearly everything on my tray, but I’m not as greedy as I was the first few times I came to the mess. I don’t feel the need to gorge myself because I’m worried I might not get to eat again for days.
I still feel eyes on us as we make our way out of the dining hall, but the moment the doors slip shut behind us, the overwhelming feeling of being watched fades. It’s a relief, and I must make some sort of outward sign of acknowledgment, because Ziv says, “You’ll get used to it.”
“I don’t want to get used to it, but I can handle it as long as it doesn’t keep happening when I’m alone. I swear I keep thinking there’s someone in my room.” I glance at Ziv. “Unless you have some godly way of spying on me.”
“There’s nothing godly about it.” He doesn’t even flinch at the accusation.
“So it has been you. I was thinking I was going insane,” I snap back.
“No, it wasn’t me.”
I stop walking, causing Ziv to stop with me. “I’m so confused. Have you been watching me or not?”
“No, I haven’t been in your room without your knowledge.” I start to feel a bit of reluctant relief, but then I realize maybe I am a little crazy, because I’m certain there’s been someone in my room, but Ziv isn’t done speaking. “But yes, I made sure someone was watching over you when I couldn’t.”
“What? Who?” It’s definitely creepier knowing someone was there and it wasn’t him.
“The demon.”
“I knew he was following me,” I snarl through my teeth. “I thought you wanted to kill him.” Now I’m affronted. He put a male he hates in charge of spying on me while I’m in my room.
“Wanting him dead and using him aren’t mutually exclusive.”
