Chapter 14 #5
The bell gives a startled chime as I slide across the bench. I catch myself against the table and glare up at him.
Even freshly showered and smelling of soap, there is a deep masculine musk beneath it, as though his body is exuding distilled testosterone.
Arrek leans in closer, and my nose prickles at that heady stink of him. I keep my back straight and refuse to move as his mouth approaches my ear.
“There is something delicious about knowing every inch of your body and having it ever so slightly hidden from me.” His voice lowers, his breath hot against my ear. “I love knowing exactly how those little nipples tighten when you’re horny.”
Anger flashes through me, followed by the tiniest, most treacherous thread of lust.
I clamp down upon it immediately.
Arrek draws in one slow breath through his nostrils, and a quiet chuckle rumbles from his chest.
“Let’s not torment our little pet at dinner time, shall we?” Mero says.
But there is heat in his slate-grey eyes. He is enjoying it as well.
Arrek raises one hand towards me. I remain perfectly still, expecting his fingers to touch my face or slide beneath the collar.
Instead, he flicks the silver bell.
Its bright note rings beside my ear.
Then he turns towards the platter as though nothing happened and closes one enormous hand around the carving knife.
For all his size, Arrek handles the carving knife with remarkable precision.
The blade follows the curve of the first rib, separating the meat from the bone without wasting a scrap.
He shaves several thin slices from it and places them upon my plate, choosing some of the darker pieces from the outside where the salt and spices have cooked into the crust.
He adds the softened vegetables and a portion of chilled pasta salad that none of them prepared. Talarin must have brought it back from the capital.
It is a hearty portion of food. If I had collected this much food from the woods, I would have eaten half and stored the rest.
I pick up my fork and reach for the baton.
Mero clears his throat.
I pause.
“It is time for you to learn some manners. Wait until everyone has been served.”
Heat rises into my cheeks. I nod and return the fork to my plate. I expect Arrek to chuckle, but he does not. He simply continues carving as though nothing happened.
While Arrek fills three enormous plates, Talarin lifts a broad carafe of wine. He pours for each of them, then fills a much smaller glass for me. It is only a little wine, but it feels unexpectedly good to be included.
A clear pitcher follows, filled with water, ice and thin slices of cucumber. Talarin fills all four water glasses while Arrek finishes serving the meal.
Once everyone has food, I still wait. Mero takes the first bite. Only then do I lift my fork again and try the baton.
The meat nearly falls apart against my tongue. Its fat has the rich, almost creamy taste Talarin promised, the dark outer crust salty and carrying just enough heat from the pepper to linger upon my lips. The glassroot cuts through the richness with its clean acidity.
I force myself to slow down instead of devouring everything upon my plate.
By the time I have eaten several bites, Mero’s plate is already empty. I watch in awe as he reaches across the table, takes a rib nearly as long as my arm and begins stripping the meat from it.
I have watched Aurelians eat from a distance, but seeing it this close is different. The amount of food these men can put away is absurd.
After several more bites, the salt begins building a steady thirst. The meat is perfectly seasoned otherwise, and then I put it together.
The Med-Bay showed that I was deficient in salt. They are all eating meat that has been drenched in salt because of me.
I lick my lips and reach for the glass of water, then hesitate. The worst thing would be waking in the middle of the night needing to use the bathroom. They’ll let me go again after dinner, right? Surely they will, and without me having to ask.
Having to ask makes it so much worse.
I take a sip and set the glass down again.
An awkward silence settles over the table, and I realize they have never really had a guest for dinner. Especially not one like me.
Talarin clears his throat.
“The apples are nearly ripe.”
“We’ll harvest them as soon as they’re ready,” Mero says. “That should give us time to press the cider before the weather turns.”
“It is going to be a cold winter,” Talarin says. “I think there will be heavy snow.”
Winter has always meant spending more time inside. Fewer visits to the village. More time alone, curled beside the fire in the narrow shaft through the rock that I slowly widened into a home.
I will be spending this winter inside these walls with them.
By the time I finish, I have eaten everything upon my plate. I should be full, but my attention keeps returning to the bowl of enormous berries and the pot of honey upon the counter.
Mero snaps his fingers.
The sound jolts me out of the almost-normal conversation. He points to the broad cushion upon the floor beside his chair.
“Here, Pet.”