Chapter Eleven #2
“At boarding school, I used to sneak into the kitchen in the middle of the night and just spread butter on bread to eat.” He grinned at Tristan.
Tristan scooted closer, thigh pressing against Austin’s. He hummed in soft enjoyment, his attention fixed on Austin’s grin. “I once tried out the fish diet that other northern merfolk suggested. Though…” His nose scrunched. “I could not adapt. The fish bones and their eggs were unappetising.”
Austin leaned away with a groan. “I thought you wanted to encourage my appetite!” But though he complained, it held a laugh in it. “How long did you eat—was this raw?—fish?”
“A few weeks.”
“Weeks!”
“Hal eventually told me they don’t eat like that either.” After some thought, Tristan added, “I am partial to the sweet fruits these lands yield. But my favourite is honey-baked red meat.”
“I don’t like sweet things,” Austin admitted. “Or things that taste too strong… Hm, I’ll have to think about what other food I like.”
“Please do, and I will get it for you.” His shoulder pressed against Austin as he edged even closer.
“Try the toast,” Austin insisted. “Let me know what you think. It’s two things Ireland is known for: bread and butter.”
By the end of the platter, Tristan was practically glowing and Austin was leaning against the back of his lounger, cupping his belly on a groan.
“Too much.” He’d eaten the whole damn platter.
Almost entirely by himself, except for a few things he’d bitten into and didn’t like.
Tristan pulled those aside and ate them.
“Water?” Tristan offered.
Austin angled his face away from him. “There is no room.”
Tristan set the cup aside. “Wine? Juice?”
Austin tensed, eyes finding the bottle of wine that he’d lost control of his voice asking for earlier. But it was just sitting innocently on the table, no more menacing than the empty platter balanced next to it. Austin moved past it with a sigh.
“I haven’t felt this normal in months. I don’t want to ruin it with wine.”
And Austin really did feel normal. He felt calm. He felt in total control of himself. His skin didn’t itch, his head didn’t hurt, there was no panic coiling inside waiting to be sprung at the smallest provocation. Connor’s distance was there, but it was remote and manageable.
“I’m a lightweight.” Austin sighed, recalling the tests he’d been subjected to when it was discovered that Connor had a total immunity to the effects of alcohol.
He twisted sideways, lifting his feet to rest on Tristan’s lap. He pressed in with his heel, and the merman picked up the oils from yesterday, pouring some out before beginning a careful massage of Austin’s feet. He did it by touch, his attention remaining on Austin’s face.
“It was a particular point of interest for a little while,” Austin said. “The scientists couldn’t figure out why Connor, who had no genetic markers, had a complete resistance to drink and drugs, yet I was particularly susceptible.”
The warm, firm touch on his feet felt divine.
Austin shut his eyes on a delighted sigh.
If he’d realised massages felt like this, he’d have actually put Cessair’s fortune to a bit of use.
“I enjoyed those tests. Granted, they involved getting blackout drunk, and I don’t remember half of it, but still.
More pleasant than the ones that remain in my head so very vividly.
They didn’t last all that long in the end.
They came to the eventual conclusion that I responded to alcohol the same way any fourteen-year-old kid who weighs eighty pounds does. ”
“Where are these scientists?” Tristan asked.
“Dead.” Austin cracked open an eye to peer at Tristan’s expression. There was an angry set to his jaw that didn’t match his careful touch. “For sure dead. Their bodies were found in the wreck.”
Austin hesitated only a second, but then continued, voice smooth as silk. “Your household put me in such a bad mood this evening; I think it’s fair you make it up to me, don’t you?”
Tristan’s fingers stalled on Austin’s ankle bones, just about to begin a slide up his calf. His eyes, when he met Austin’s gaze, were terribly bright. His head canted to the side, a go on air in the gesture.
“Swim across the ocean and check on my territory for me.” Austin smiled, the sweet and soft one he used to practice. “There might be a trap set for a merman, and they caught Adonis before so… keep that in mind. Hm?”
“You will need to direct me where to go.”
Austin described how to find his cottage and the razor-shell beach from the ocean. Tristan asked a few clarifying questions about distinguishing landmarks, but then nodded as if satisfied he could find it.
Tristan rose from the couch, eyes still bright and sharp. He bent to Austin, cupping his cheek with a palm that smelled of essential oils. He planted a kiss on the other cheek, something about his aura less supplicating.
“I will return shortly.”
Austin caught his wrist before he pulled back.
“There’s a matriarch that lives in the rocks.
” He thought of her male followers who constantly brought her offerings of food, and Austin’s own refusal to give her anything, lest she think herself above him.
“Make sure you bring her something to eat while you’re there.
Something tasty. Fishbones and eggs, perhaps? ”
A rumble on the cusp of becoming either growl or purr emanated from Tristan’s chest. Austin tightened his grip on Tristan’s wrist, leaned his cheek into his palm, and purred. Tristan’s eyes latched on to the contact, and the sound from his chest fully formed into a matching purr.
“Don’t take too long. I’ll wait up for you.”