Garath
“These are pretty nice digs, I must say.”
“Thanks.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. Garath hadn’t chosen the décor. Or the furniture. There wasn’t a single thing in the entire place he’d chosen. It had all been prepared for him by someone else.
“Where’d you get this?” Marie pointed to a mirror on the wall.
“Can’t remember.” It was a truthful lie, he told himself. After all, Garath couldn’t remember. Then again, he’d never known in the first place. It was time to distract her.
“Anyway, I think I’ve mastered those dinners you showed me,” he said proudly. “Are you hungry? I grabbed a few more selections, so I was sure I had something you liked.”
Marie giggled. “Mastered TV dinners, have you?”
He nodded. “Yes. It took a little while, I’m not going to lie.”
“Oh?”
“They are not correctly named. You have to use the microwave on them.” He pulled open the freezer door. “Here, take your pick.”
Marie walked over to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Of course you use the microwave.” She sounded puzzled. “What did you try to use?”
Garath blinked. “The TV of course. Like the name says.”
“You’re joking?”
He frowned. “No, why would I be? It says right on the label, TV dinner. So I tried to use the TV to microwave them.” He shook his head. “Who knew that the microwave was an actual appliance.”
Marie was unable to hold her composure. She leaned against him, laughing into his shoulder as he spoke. By the time he finished there were tears soaking his shirt.
“How is it you’re so clueless about all this?” she wheezed, struggling to breathe through the laughter.
Garath slowly closed the freezer door, feeling embarrassed and stupid in front of his mate. This was not the way to win her over! He needed to be an expert at everything she needed him to be.
“I…grew up sheltered,” he said, searching for a word that would work, without raising too many questions.
“I can tell. Okay, do you have anything else?”
He pointed at the fridge, yanking open the door. “Yeah. There’s some stuff delivered every other day, but I don’t know what to do with half of it.”
Marie brightened as she took stock of the contents of the fridge. Garath quietly watched as she scanned the various items, her brain cataloging them all.
“There’s lots of things I could make in here.”
Her, make dinner? No, that wasn’t how he was supposed to court her. Not while he was supposed to be the one providing.
“I’ll make us something,” he growled, stepping forward.
Marie straightened from looking into the fridge, arms crossing in front of her. “Why are you being stubborn? What’s wrong with me making something?”
“Because you shouldn’t have to. I should provide for you.”
She backed up slightly, the better to stare up at his face despite the height difference. She was so small and delicate, his protective instincts were screaming, clamoring at him to step forward as her protector. Even more, to announce himself to her then and there, revealing his true nature and that she was his mate. But he couldn’t, not yet. She wasn’t ready to hear something like that. Soon though. He wouldn’t wait much longer. He couldn’t.
“Out of the two of us, who is the trained and experienced cook, who also happens to now run the best officers’ club kitchen on the West Coast?”
Garath glowered unhappily. He didn’t like his mate having to do any work. He was supposed to take care of her. That was his job, the reason for his existence. To provide for Marie.
“Don’t pout,” she teased. “It doesn’t suit you.”
“I’m not pouting. I’m glowering. There’s a difference.”
“Is that so? Care to explain?”
Garath opened his mouth to do just that. He wasn’t pouting after all. That would imply he was upset he wasn’t getting his way. Glowering, however, was something one did when they didn’t like what was happening. It was completely different, two situations that did not relate to one another at all. Why, it was preposterous that she couldn’t tell the difference. It was so easy after all. He didn’t like what was happening, because he didn’t want her to have to work. It was different. Wasn’t it?
“You know, if you keep your mouth open long enough, the flies will start to nest there.”
He snapped his jaws closed. “That’s not fair.”
Marie laughed and wrapped her arms around him, leaning in close. “No, it’s not. But trust me, dinner will be much tastier this way around, and prepared with a lot less stress. Besides, you can still help, if that will ease your wounded ego?”
“My ego was not ruined!” He was too busy inhaling her spicy scent and memorizing every curve of her body as it pressed against him to realize that he was just confirming what she’d said.
“Right. Let’s get to work.”
She pulled away from him, much to his disappointment, and started to rummage through the kitchen for whatever it was she felt she’d need. A few times she asked him if he had this or that, but upon receiving nothing but blank stares in return she would just smile and go about her business.
How lucky was he to have found someone like her and to have it going so smoothly? Garath hadn’t talked to any of the other dragons yet, doing his best to ignore them and avoid them, but he’d heard stories of how tough a mating could actually be. He wondered if perhaps because Marie was human, that was making it easier? Was she more easily swayed by his looks than a female dragon would be?
“How did you become so adept in the kitchen?”
Chestnut hair twirled out like a long summer dress as Marie’s head snapped around. “Pardon me?”
Shit. Obviously he’d said something wrong. “Are you not a cook? You’ve said so several times now? I was just asking about how you got that way?”
Her expression tightened with worry, not anger. Garath hated the way that made the dimple in her chin disappear. Expressions like sadness, anger, and worry should never be present. The heart shape of her face was not conducive to those. Happiness, joy, and maybe if he was lucky, pleasure. Those were suitable to her.
“Sorry.” Marie shook her head, ridding herself of the expression. “I...it’s just that I haven’t always been appreciated for my skill. There was a time not that long ago where it was expected of me to ‘be in the kitchen,’ because that’s where a proper woman was.” She looked away. “That’s how I learned to be good at it. Now though, now I do it for pleasure, and because I can get paid for it.”
Garath’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the white marble countertop, the sturdy material groaning under his great strength. He released his grip just before it snapped, mighty lungs rising and falling as he sought to keep his anger in check. How could someone dismiss Marie so thoroughly like that? There was so much more to her than just her ability in the kitchen.
She was intelligent and sharp-witted, stubborn and proud, and of course astoundingly beautiful, a face that he could devour with his eyes for hours on end, without even getting to the deliciously soft body she possessed as well. The forge at his center awoke, warmth pouring through him as his thoughts progressed.
“I did not mean any insult. It is obvious though that you know what you’re doing, and I find your skills impressive.”
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault at all.”
Wasn’t it? If he’d been awake earlier, he could have found Marie and saved her from whatever problems she’d been involved with. Her life could be much better if he hadn’t fled into his sleep like a coward, upset over his own mistakes.
Now he didn’t even have a treasure to give her. It was gone, swindled away from him by a snake-eye dragon salesman who had taken advantage of a young and inexperienced Garath. It still stung his pride to admit what had happened. How was he going to explain to someone as wonderful and perfect as Marie that he, a dragon, didn’t have a treasure. She wouldn’t want to be with him, he was a failure of his race, and women like Marie wanted nothing to do with failures. After all, she was a success, as she’d drove home to him earlier.
Marie worked calmly while he watched. At first Garath tried to follow along, so that he could learn how to cook for his mate. In just a few minutes however he was hopelessly lost as she moved far too quickly for him to follow long. Chopping products he didn’t even recognize, adding what he knew to be spices, putting this in that dish and other items in pans. It was just too much for him. Cooking, it seemed, was not going to be something he would ever wow Marie with.
But at least he could feed himself now. He glared at the TV and microwave for a moment. “I’m just getting in your way,” he announced, retreating to the far side of the huge island that doubled as an eat-in counter as well if he didn’t feel like using the table.
“That’s fine. You can be the official taste-tester. How about that?”
Garath was pretty sure that was a joke. But he took it in stride, nodding his head vigorously with a big, goofy grin splashed across his face. “Done.”
Based on the less-than-savory food he was used to from his previous life, anything she was to prepare would blow his mind. Still, it was a chance to compliment his mate on her skills, and he wanted her to feel appreciated. So Garath would taste everything and anything, and he was going to like it!
The smells soon filled the kitchen, and it became apparent that he wasn’t likely to have to fake anything. His mouth was watering and his stomach let loose with a rumble that was audible even over the sizzle of some meat in a pan.
“Now that’s a compliment!” Marie pronounced.
He laughed and nodded. “Yes. It smells delicious.”
Marie looked down demurely, her alabaster skin pinking. His heart nearly turned inside out at such an adorable look. His mate was so often confident and in charge that to see her like that, vulnerable and blushing, just made him want her even more. He longed to see how far down her neck the blush extended. His eyes drank in every detail: the pair of freckles on her left cheek and the bumps of her collarbone that were visible in the V-neck of her purple shirt.
His eyes traveled even farther, over the large curves of her breasts. He imagined himself ripping the fabric away from them, exposing the hardened tips to his hungry mouth. He could gently suck on them while his fingers kneaded the tense skin of her back, stripping her of stress and worries. She would be free then, free to focus only on him, and on what he was going to do to her.
A muted cough clued Garath in to the fact that she was looking at him. The pupils of her eyes were wide, and her mouth hung open ever so slightly. Garath knew his eyes were full of heat and that the fire burning inside him was proving harder to resist than ever. But he must. He had to if he was going to keep his mate from running away.
Without a treasure he was going to be hard pressed to keep her to begin with. Pushing the boundaries too far too soon would dim his chances more than he cared to admit. Swallowing his arousal, he kept himself leaning against the island, the edge digging into his lower abdomen, keeping hidden from Marie the rather large evidence of what he truly wanted just then.
“Garath, I…”
He cut her off with a sharp shake of his head. He tried to speak, but was forced to clear his throat, lest it come out too husky, too throaty. “Let us focus on dinner, shall we? I cannot apologize for my eyes speaking what the rest of me wants, but perhaps I should have waited for a more opportune moment.”
Marie’s headed bounced up and down shakily, and she turned back to the meal she was making. Her hand picked up a plastic spoon, and he could see that it was shaking as she tried to stir a sauce of some sort.
Dammit. He’d gone and scared her off with his draconic intensity. His eyes had probably gone all black, reflective of his other half as he’d sized his mate up and down. Her thoughts now were probably only about how to cut dinner as short as possible and then get the hell out of his apartment. Garath cursed himself viciously. Just moments earlier he’d been proclaiming to himself how he needed to take it slow, to let Marie come to him when she was ready. Then he’d gone and ignored all that and tried to fuck her with his eyes.
The only positive to all of that was that his anger was sending blood pumping into his arms and chest, and away from certain other parts. It allowed him to move away from the island at last, giving Marie some more space lest she become even more intimidated by him. He wished desperately for something to fight. A wayward pack of wolf-shifters perhaps, or some cranky bears emerging from their winter hiding and ready to fight anything that got in their way of food.
Or, best of all, the motherfucker that had stolen his treasure. What Garath would have given to have that dragon in front of him right then and there. It wouldn’t have been pretty.
Marie called out to him in her beautiful alto. “Dinner is ready.”
Arousal surged through him once more without warning or permission. How was he supposed to sit through an entire dinner without doing or saying something and making the situation worse?