Chapter 9
RIVVEN
Ihad hoped to make use of the time before Xennet and Dorn arrived. To spend most of it with Shiloh. But it did not happen on that first day. Chores kept me out of her orbit, and when I did have some time to stop and take a break, she was resting upstairs.
In my bed, presumably.
And then, it was time to start dinner. I busied myself preparing a large bracku meat roast, along with roasted vegetables, pickled items, cheese, eggs, and more bread with fruit preserves.
It was more variety than I’d usually serve in one meal.
When Xennet or Dorn (or both) came here to eat, I usually served them something far simpler.
But they were not Shiloh. I did not yet have a good sense of her palate. She’d eaten a little of the eggs and other items at breakfast but had had no lunch, choosing instead to nap. So I wanted to make sure there was plenty for her to choose from.
And I wanted to impress her. To show her what I could do. That no matter what she wanted, what she craved, I could find a way to provide it for her. I did not have a herd, but I had this saloon, I had my other animals, and I could cook. Hopefully, that might mean something.
Tasha and Warden Tenn remained all day as well, and gave every indication they would spend the night again.
I was not sure if this was good or not. I was certainly glad to have them for the insight and expertise – especially Tasha.
I would not have known what a migraine was without her, or what to do about it.
It was not listed in the book she’d written that we had studied at length with Warden Hallum.
But I also wondered if it meant that they did not want Shiloh left alone with me.
Maybe it was Shiloh herself who did not want that.
And I tried not to let that puncture anything too vital inside me. She had only just met me. Only just arrived. And unlike the first brides of the program, she knew about my past. My convictions.
And she had come here anyway. She’d slept in my bed, eaten my food, and taken my arm when I’d offered.
All day, I’d felt her touch on my skin. The silken warmth of it.
That simple touch, combined with her beauty and what I was already beginning to sense was a calm, kind, elegant sort of demeanour in her, would mean that whichever man she married would be the luckiest blasted male within a hundred spans.
If she does not choose you, there may yet be other women, I reminded myself as I basted the roast with sizzling butter. But that thought brought me no comfort. No small amount of cautious hope where it might once have.
Because now that I’d seen her, I was not sure how anyone else would possibly compare.
Perhaps this was unfair to the rest of the female human population that existed out there beyond this world. Shiloh was only one woman. Only the second human female I’d ever seen in person.
But whether it was fair or not, that was how I felt. And there seemed to be very little I could do about it.
Other than make one blasted good meal for her, I supposed.
My efforts in that area, at least, paid off.
When I pushed through the kitchen door into the dining room, the other three were already gathered there.
Despite all of their gazes upon me, I only watched Shiloh as I carried the roast and vegetables into the room and set the large tray down on the central table.
Shiloh’s eyes went big and round, and she gave a small gasp that, bizarrely, I felt more than heard. And I felt it in rather unmentionable places.
Like my cock.
“This looks incredible,” she breathed, clasping her hands below her chin and gazing down at the food like it was something to be worshipped.
“It looks even better than it smells! And I didn’t think that would be possible!
I am so glad I had that nap and I’m still feeling better!
Not having an appetite to eat some of this would be a crime! ”
She seemed to catch herself then, darting a glance my way at the word “crime.” As if she worried how I’d react.
I was not sure what she expected of me, so I merely went to retrieve the side dishes.
As I moved back into the kitchen, I felt strangely buoyed along.
My steps light with…Well, I was not sure precisely what it was.
But it made my entire body hum and glide the way I sometimes did in very good dreams. Dreams where I was back on Zabria, skating on a frozen pond with the other children in the village.
I’d never felt like this as an adult before. Not while awake, anyway.
It was rather addictive.
That floaty feeling remained with me, intensifying as Shiloh once again exclaimed over the other items I brought out.
“This fruity stuff,” she told me as I put down the plates with the bread and fruit preserves, “is incredible. I finished that plate you brought up to the bedroom. Where do you get it?”
“I make it.”
Once again, those very big eyes. I wondered if eyes getting bigger was similar to a Zabrian’s eyes getting brighter.
I knew my own were bright white. They had been since the moment I’d walked into the room with the roast and had seen her.
Thank the empire, it did not seem to be hurting her now.
Outside, the sun had already set, and the only light besides my eyes came from the fire in the dining room hearth and a few candles someone else had lit.
This low, warm light did lovely things to Shiloh.
Though I doubted one as beautiful as her would find any sort of light unflattering, there was something special, something that made my breath catch almost painfully in my throat, about her in the firelight.
Her skin and hair gleamed. Her eyes were dark luminescence.
“You make it? Amazing,” she said, moving her head up and down in that human nod. The one I knew meant agreement or satisfaction.
She liked my answer. She liked what I made.
I could have levitated right off the floor.
I did not, of course. I cleared my throat and mumbled my thanks before retrieving a large carving knife from behind the bar. When I turned around, holding it in my left hand, she appeared somewhat startled. She took a very small step back when I advanced holding it.
The buzzing high was gone. I’d crashed right back down to the floor. To reality.
She may have liked my fruit preserves.
But she did not know – or trust – me as a man.
I tried to keep my movements slow and careful, aiming the knife only at the meat.
I sliced quickly, suddenly hating to hold the thing and wanting to get through this as quickly as possible.
But she seemed to have at least somewhat recovered from her earlier moment of worry.
She had not run screaming from the room.
And she was not backing away any longer.
I plated her food first, and highest, hoping that with every choice morsel I heaped upon it, the silent message might come through. I would take care of you. I would never hurt you.
“Where do you get your meat, Rivven?” Tasha asked once I’d served the slices of bracku roast onto four plates. “Do you buy it from the others in the province?”
“No,” I said. Shiloh was seated, now. So I sat, too.
“Sometimes when Xennet or Dorn has a bracku to butcher for personal use, but they’re finding themselves too busy to do it, they bring it to me after slaughter.
I butcher the meat for them, and as payment I keep a portion for myself.
They both have tabs here as well. When they come for a meal or a drink, they pay in credits.
Warden Hallum facilitates the transfer of funds between us when their tabs get high enough. ”
This only ever surprised Xennet. Dorn kept meticulous track of what he owed on his tab. But every time payment was allotted to me, Xennet seemed entirely shocked by what he’d spent.
“Drinks?” This question came from Shiloh. “What have you got back there besides water?” Her head tipped towards the counter.
“I make drinks from sweetened, fermented bracku milk.” I told her. “Sometimes with fruit.”
“Fermented,” she repeated. “Does that mean, like, yogurt or kefir? Or alcohol?”
“It’s both,” Tasha answered for me. “Rivven showed me his set-up once before. And it definitely smelled a little boozy.”
“Yes, there is alcohol,” I confirmed. I was surprised Shiloh would know or care about such a specific chemical component of the drink. She was very clever indeed. “Are you a scientist?”
“A scientist?” She gaped at me before laughing. “No, not at all!”
And yet she knew about alcohol. Brilliant.
“If you would like to try-”
“I’d better not,” she said quickly. “That is not going to help the migraine situation. I’ll stick with water for now, thank you.”
The drink would affect her migraine? How?
Mystified, I began to eat, glancing at Shiloh every few bites as she started consuming her own meal.
“Rivven,” she said after a few quiet moments of eating. “This is incredible. Truly. Thank you so much for this. I don’t even know the last time I had a meal this good.”
That made my chest feel like someone very strong had punched me in it.
That she hadn’t been having good meals before.
That I was providing them now.
“Of course.” I was not sure what else to say. Of course, I would do this for her. Why ever would I not?
What would it be like, I wondered then, to do this for her every day? To feed her, to watch her eyes take on that suffusion of pleasure as she chewed, to hear her words of thanks for the rest of my life?
That would be a very good sort of life.
A great one. Certainly greater than I had ever dared to hope for.
After eating, I piled all the plates on the tray and brought them through to the kitchen. For some reason, Shiloh followed me. She held all four of our drink glasses – one in each hand, and two balanced against her chest, pinned by her forearms.
“Are you…thirsty?” I asked, eyeing the multiple glasses she’d brought with her. How much water could one small human female consume? Would she really need that many cups?