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She dipped her finger into it and popped it into her mouth. When her eyes lit up and she wiggled, moaning, my cock stirred. I swore I was erect whenever I was around my mate. My balls ached almost as much as my heart.
“It’s syrup. And these arepancakes,” she breathed, lifting her arm and hooting while dancing in a circle, nearly sending her food onto the floor.
I enjoyed the sway of her lush ass, wishing we were alone so I could touch it. I’d also like to lift her onto a table, toss up her tunic, and dine onheragain instead of these cakes on a pan, a name that made no sense since they lay on a plate.
“What is that?” Jessia asked, peering at my dish.
“Pancakes and syrup,” Vanessa announced, hugging her plate. “Let’s chow, Aizor.” She spun and strutted over to a table.
I stared at her ass.
“Your feelings for her have grown,” Jessia observed.
“Fook eff.”
“Fookwhat?” she asked, her face twisting.
“Fook effis . . .” How to best describe this? “A word Vanessa uses to express joy. She makes me happy.”
“I see that.” Jessia nodded sagely. “I’ll keep these words close and use them at the appropriate moment. I cannot, however, findfook effin the gods’ offering this morning. I hope my plate does not contain flat circles with brown liquid oozing around them.”
Her breakfast lifted through the counter, and she sighed with happiness, taking it. “Moobars and troolon. Perfect.” She turned and hefted it. “Fook. Fook eff! I can’t wait to eat.”
Vanessa stared at Jessia, her jaw unhinging before she started snickering.
Seeing her happy—the only goal in my life—I shoutedfook eff, and it was echoed by everyone in the room.
Wetness poured from Vanessa’s eyes, but since she told me this was often an expression of joy, I could only grin as I joined her.
After eating, me only picking at the cakes from the plate with brown liquid because they tasted odd, we left to bathe.
I collected clean clothing for us before I led her down a tunnel to a more isolated pool.
Vanessa walked happily beside me. She swept her hand out toward the walls and the roof of the passage. “I suppose the gods created all this, too.”
“If you mean they gave us light, then yes.”
“Are yousureyou’re not the gods and them the servants? They cook your food. They—”
“We hunt bribards.”
“Okay, you hunt for meat, but they give you almost all of your other food.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not complaining after breakfast. I’m almost excited to see what they serve for my next meal.”
Would food make her want to stay? I kept hoping it would be me.
“They wash and dry and fold your clothing,” she added.
I frowned as we started walking down the slope. “I don’t believe they fold anything. We leave the bath, and the clothing is waiting. It’s draped. Not . . . folded.”
“Semantics. They generate lights when you need them. They keep your homes clean.”
“We live within their dead structures.”
She stopped. “You mentioned that, how you didn’t live here until a short time ago, after you and other traedors spoke to the crystal gods.”
