Twenty-Three
Feed Me, Kill Me
Fury seeped into Saber’s soul. He reached over and grabbed the blanket and covered her. Who did that to her, and why? He contemplated his captive as he went back to the kitchen area and put everything away. He tried not to look at her as he started a meal.
Saber knew the moment Tirah awoke. Every sense in his body went on alert, and it was all he could do to act normal.
“That smells amazing,” she said, rising to her feet. She folded the blanket, set it on the couch and walked over to the kitchen.
“You don’t have a mate or someone who cooks for you?” she asked.
“No, I don’t,” he said tersely.
“I’m surprised.”
“Why?” Saber knew he sounded a little gruffer than he would have liked, but it was hard keeping his eyes off her.
“I just never expected that any of the great Thorn sons would cook. You all kind of have a reputation, for … other stuff.”
Saber stared at her and knew what she left unsaid. Killing, whoring, killing …
“Anyway, I just figured you would have someone to cook for you, that’s all.” Then Tirah glanced at the table he’d already set. When she looked back at him, there was a scowl on her face. “You know, you can keep me here, starve me, feed me, kill me, but I still can’t tell you anything.”
Her words reminded Saber of why he was holding her here in the first place. Saber didn’t say a word, just watched her run a hand through her wild, burnished copper hair as she turned back to him. His cock throbbed in his jeans. Fuck. Adarias is stuck in Hades, and what the hell am I doing, having a fucking dinner party?
“Why are you doing all this?” she asked.
“What?”
“You know, feeding me. Being nice to me?” Tirah waved her hand around.
Saber didn’t know himself. All he knew was he couldn’t let her starve. Besides, sooner or later she’d talk. “I need to know how to reverse the spell you put on my brother,” he said, watching her frown deepen.
“Spell? I thought you wanted to kill me for what happened to that female,” Tirah said, watching him warily. The pulse in her neck fluttered and it was a chore to tear his gaze away. Instead, he carried a large platter of fruit, cheese, and breads to the table and then returned for the hot casserole.
“Sit. Eat.” He indicated the food. Tirah seemed to debate a moment, then finally sat down and surveyed the food. Saber grabbed a bottle from an alcove in the sitting area. Then, after popping the cork, he poured some of the liquid into two finely sculpted drinking flutes with dragons depicted on the side.
“What is that?” Tirah asked, eyeing the golden liquid.
“It’s called wine. I discovered it on Earth many years ago.” He raised his flute and sipped. After a moment, Tirah raised her own and did the same. A slight smile lit her lips and then grew wider at the dragon scene. “Pretty.” Then she set her flute down. “That’s different … but good.”
“It is,” Saber agreed, and loaded his plate with food. As he took a bite, he wondered how long it had been since he’d eaten. Tirah watched as if waiting to see if he’d keel over. When he didn’t, she filled her own plate. Then she ate and ate.
Saber kept his satisfied smirk to himself, secretly pleased when Tirah helped herself to more food. He kept her flute topped up with wine. Maybe if he could loosen her up, she’d be more inclined to tell him what he wanted to know. As an immortal dragon shifter, he couldn’t get drunk unless it was infused with Nectar. But Tirah was Ilyium—Human, so getting her tongue to loosen shouldn’t be a problem.
“Why did you do it?” he asked when she set her eating utensil down on her plate and sat back.
“Do what?”
Saber could tell she knew exactly what he was asking.
Tirah sighed sadly. “I didn’t know what we were going to do.”
He just stared at her. How was that even possible? As if uncomfortable under his gaze, she shifted in her seat. “Or, not really, anyway. I knew they wanted to capture a dragon. They said it was a dangerous one, not some—” She stopped speaking and stared down at her plate.
Not sure he even believed her, Tirah’s words brought back all the helplessness and guilt he’d experienced that night. Sharp-edged fragments sliced through his head once more as his rage spiked. “You did capture a dangerous one.”
“No, the female. I could tell she wasn’t dangerous, and I’m sorry—” She stopped speaking when Saber glared and let out a low growl.
Tirah’s fingers curled inward.
“What happened to your hands?” Saber asked with a burning need to know as he rose and went over to the food cooler.