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“Oh, no you don’t!” she said, snatching back the tray as my claws descended. “I’m not going to let you steal all the meat again! You can have one serving and that’s it!”
“May I eat while you two argue?” Oxriel said from behind my back, leaning around me to look longingly at the tray.
Fiona said, “Yes!” at the exact moment that I smacked the top of his head and told him, “No.”
With a bone-weary sigh, Oxriel gave up. He sat back down and turned his hopeful gaze towards Tilly now. She was nearby, but she wasn’t coming any closer yet, mired in conversation with the grinning Warrek.
“There. You see? He can wait for Tilly,” I said of Oxriel. “Therefore there is nothing stopping you from making your offer to me.”
“My offer?” she shook her head. “Jeez-us, Dalk. Don’t you want to know why I was saving you for last and serving everybody else first?”
“Because you want to torture me.”
“What?! No! Because I wanted to have time to sit down and eat with you! I didn’t want to feel rushed thinking about all these other poor, hungry guys waiting for their serving. I wanted to get this part out of the way and spend the rest of the time with you.”
Oh.
“And if you want that to happen,” she said archly, “then you will sit down like a good boy and wait for me.”
I did want that to happen. I certainly did not wish to watch her smile and offer food to every other male with those soft, pretty hands...
But I did want to sit with her. For as long as she would let me.
“Well?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Fine.” I bent my legs and collapsed in place, making an effort to show her that I could at least attempt to do what she wanted even if I could not exactly be good.
“Alright then,” she said, not unkindly. “I’ll be back.”
“Do not take too long,” I grumbled, and she gave a stunning, open-throated laugh in response to that.
“Maybe I should take a while,” she said, eyes alight with laughter. “Just,” she added, throwing my own words back at me, “to torture you.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Fiona
If I thought that making each other come would open Dalk up to me more, then I was dead fucking wrong. When I finished handing out food to the other guys and finally sat down to eat with him, my stomach fluttering with nerves, I was met with the same grumpy, glowering man I’d always known. Except maybe with a new edge of possessiveness to him, I guess, considering the fit he threw about me giving food to the other men before him.
We ate in near silence, me with my eyes on my food and Dalk with his sight stars on me, until I couldn’t take it anymore and I finally burst out, “So. Should we talk about it?”
“About what?” he asked, his grip suddenly tightening on the felkora bone he held.
About what? About what?
“About what happened earlier! When I was, erm, healing you.”
Dalk’s sight stars seemed to get sharper.
“What do you wish to say to me about it?”
“Well...” I faltered under the steady slicing of his gaze. “I suppose the first question I have is... Do you want something like that to happen again?”
“Yes,” he answered instantly, his tail thwapping the ground behind him for good measure. His voice grew cautious. “Do you?”
The reality was that, no matter how hard I’d tried to ignore it and push it away, I had one big, huge, planet-sized crush on him. If we were back on Earth with relationship rituals I was actually familiar with, I’d be dying to date him.
The sun had completely set, and the cold air was merciful against the searing in my cheeks as I whispered, “Yes.”
