Chapter 8 #3
Could he unknowingly be saying that his sudden arousal had nothing to do with the transition?
That this time, he wanted Gabriel with a clear head?
Nicholas had already mentioned what seeing Gabriel for the first time had done to him, how, for once, it felt more like a choice to want him than an uncontrollable need.
But Gabriel wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to be reminded.
To be reassured. An opportunity to temporarily ease his conscience.
“Usually when I’m hit with a wave, it’s the end result that I want. The relief I feel after sex, not any of the stuff that happens before or during.”
“But now?”
“But now… or a second ago… I wanted the beginning and middle just as much as I wanted the end. God help me,” he breathed shakily.
Gabriel caught and held Nicholas’s gaze. “Let me be the one to help you now, Nicholas.”
He’d make the impossible happen for Nicholas, whatever that may be. He’d work miracles, commit atrocities, bring down nations, and ensure that every river ran red for his mate, if he had to. Nicholas didn’t need God. He only needed to call on Gabriel.
Nicholas leaned into the touch before abruptly pulling away. He peered into the kitchen. “Do you think the food’s ready now?”
“It should be.”
Gabriel returned holding two steaming plates of food, handing one over to Nicholas.
“Be careful, it’s hot.”
“Mmm, it smells good.” His stomach rumbled louder. He grabbed a fork, preparing to dig in as Gabriel watched on, pleased with his enthusiasm.
“Um, aren’t you going to eat too?”
“I’ll eat once you’re sated. Once you’re full, I mean.”
“Is that some sort of tradition where you’re from?”
“Yes, it is.”
As Al Sayyid, it had been Gabriel’s job to see that all his mate’s needs were met before he considered his own. He never ensured his own warmth until Zayn was free from cold. He didn’t feed, or spill his own seed, until Zayn had done both.
Having sovereignty over the most intimate parts of their relationship was a role he’d taken seriously, one he took pride in. It might have been presumptuous of him to assume he’d be once again branded with the honor of Al Sayyid, but he knew himself enough to know it was highly likely.
Nicholas stared down at the forkful of meat and rice as though he didn’t know what to do with it.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Gabriel reached for his silverware, prepared to break tradition if it meant Nicholas would eat.
“No, it’s not that.” Nicholas brought the food to his lips but couldn’t seem to eat.
“I…” He tried again, but stopped with the fork a hairsbreadth away from his mouth. With a trembling hand, he set the utensil down on his plate.
“Would you like me to feed you?” Gabriel asked, wondering…
Nicholas blushed. “I… I think I would.”
He sounded surprised by that, and even more shocked when Gabriel shoved the table away to kneel in front of him.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m serving you.” He couldn’t have sounded more delighted.
Gabriel took the plate, blowing a cooling breath over a forkful of spicy rice and vegetables before directing it to Nicholas’s parted lips.
Nicholas closed his mouth over it slowly, moaning as he chewed.
“Sorry, I’ve just never had anything that good.”
“Never apologize for your pleasure.” He served him a helping of lamb next, grinning when Nicholas grunted impatiently for more. Nicholas ate as if he hadn’t for months, only slowing when he’d devoured more than half.
“What’s that look for?” Gabriel asked, wiping the corners of Nicholas’s mouth.
“What look?”
“That one. The one that says you’re feeling guilty about something.”
It was the look Nicholas wore most. That and abashment.
“You rescued me earlier, put me in a bath, listened to my problems, argued with your brother, then cooked and fed me. Feels like I’ve done nothing but take. When’s the last time you ate, Gabriel?”
“Don’t worry about me, Nicholas.”
Nicholas frowned at that, taking the plate and fork from Gabriel.
“What are you—”
“Open up,” he said, putting a stop to what he likely assumed would be Gabriel’s protest. Gabriel hadn’t been about to object, though. He just couldn’t believe Nicholas intended to sacrifice his vestiges of food.
Nicholas had no way of knowing what his actions symbolized, no way of knowing what an honor it was for Gabriel to accept the sacrifice from his Al Khadeh.
Gabriel ate until not one kernel of rice remained, until the rite of devotion was complete.
A fierce surge of protectiveness swelled inside him for Nicholas, as well as violence and mercilessness for the rest of the world around them.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” Gabriel’s words were a low growl, barely decipherable.
Nicholas swallowed audibly, staring down at the empty plate, then back up at Gabriel. “Like I belong to you. Like, somehow, this makes me yours. I’m sorry, forget I said that. I don’t know what I’m saying anymore.”
He set the plate down beside him and stood, putting a good ten feet of distance between them. Only then did he exhale, as if he could finally breathe again. He upturned his gaze to the night sky, like maybe life’s answers resided beyond the dark clouds.
“What’s happening to me?” he whispered to himself. “Who am I becoming?”
Gabriel could smell the fresh scent of tears, and he wanted to travel back in time. Back to Saraad. Back to the moment before he ripped apart every saharah and council member that unknowingly played a role in this pain Nicholas carried. He wanted an opportunity to punish them all again.