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"Thank you," she said when I pulled a chair out for her, while the servants moved about to load the table with golden domed dishes, setting out place settings and silverware.
"What would you like to drink?" I asked.
"Camwin tea if you have."
It was one of our staples, so it was easy to fetch the drink of her choice, while I filled my glass with something more spirited.
The servants took the domes of the dishes and left. Ready to serve her, I asked for her preferences.
"I can do this myself," she objected.
"I'm sure you can," I allowed, "but please let me have the pleasure of serving you." I sent my deepest smile at her, the one that had won many a seffy over, surprised when she frowned.
"Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing is wrong, but do you… flirt with all your hostages?"
My grin deepened, "You're my first."
She didn't bite. Didn't flirt back. Confusing me.
I might not have had much experience with men or flirting, but Myle's intentions were easy to guess and I wasn't in the least interested in encouraging his flirting nor in becoming his next conquest.
All I wanted was for this to be over, to return home to my nice, safe life. And Conrad, my mind stabbed at me. Don't forget Conrad. Nice, sweet, safe Conrad. Yes. I wanted to be back with him.
Myles's smile deepened, his black eyes burned dangerously at me and a pulling sensation ran through my loins, tightening and releasing them. The sensation was alien and new, but oh so pleasant. This man across from me was dangerous. Not only because he was a vissigroth, my vissigroth, but because something about him drew me in, awakened a Niara who was more than willing to take a risk.
I pushed her back down, Conrad, Conrad, I forced my mind to repeat like a mantra or spell to ward my increasing, confusing feelings for Myles off.
To distract me further, I took a sip of the camwin tea and watched Myles pile vegetables, fish, meat, rolls, steamed shellfish and whatnot on my plate.
"I can't eat all that," I protested.
"Nonsense, you need some meat on your bones." He added more steamed dollug—a sea plant like potato—on my plate.
"Are you saying I'm too skinny?" I heard myself ask, hoping to keep any flirtation out of my voice.
"Are you fishing for compliments?" he countered, eliciting a small, mumbled curse from me. He chuckled. Damn him.
"This is very delicious," I held up my cup of tea.
His eyes darkened, smoldered even, "Probably not as delicious as some other things around the table."
I swallowed the tea I had already in my mouth, trying hard not to choke as his words made me suck in my breath.
He placed the filled plate in front of me, leaned forward, with his hands fisted on either side of my dish. Our heads were so close, our noses nearly bumped, when he slowly and very deliberately picked up a small berry from my plate and plugged it into his mouth, chewing it and smacking his lips while a warm sensation spread through my chest making it hard to breathe.
"Delicious," he said, keeping our eye contact.
This needs to stop, I decided. We had only known each other for a few hours, I was his hostage, hah, prisoner might be a better word, and here I was drooling all over him. No, that wasn't me.
And yet, those eyes.
His warm breath caressed me, smelling of the sweetness of this particular berry. My breathing turned deeper, if physically felt the rising and lowering of my chest. It wouldn't have taken any effort on his or my part to lean a few more inches forward and press our lips together.
Something flickered in his eyes. Something like victory and when I broke our eye contact I noticed the left corner of his lip rising in a self-satisfied grin. Which was when I realized this was a game for him. A game to see how fast he could have his hostage panting at his feet.
Anger bubbled up inside me. Well, I would show him. I would not become one of his famous conquests. Oh yes, even this backwater woman had heard of his infamous conquests. I would not become another notch in his belt. I would not. Any feelings of desire he had woken in me died.
