Page 49 of Barbi and the Villain

That means we’re stopping too.

I sigh. If only we had some food. Glancing back at PomPom and BonBon, I notice they’re huddled together, almost embracing. They’re tired, the poor babies. But at least they have love to keep them warm.

Ah, to be young and in love. I admire them wistfully for a few moments, happy at my baby’s new relationship before I turn my attention to my own prospective love interest.

My eyes immediately widen when I don’t see him there anymore.

The fire is blazing up, smoke traveling in the sky, but there’s no sign of him.

For a moment, panic takes hold of me.

What if he realized I was following him and he used the fire as a distraction so he could slip away and evade me?

I look right and left, my heart thudding in my chest as I cannot find him anywhere.

But just as my chest is about to explode with worry, the bushes at the other end of the clearing rattle and he resurfaces.

He’s holding a dead bird in his hand. The feathers have already been removed and it’s only the skin and the meat now.

My mouth instantly waters as he carefully builds a rotisserie on top of the fire. He places the bird over the flames, slowly rotating it and roasting it on all sides.

The smell of food reaches the dogs too and they release soft noises.

“Shh,” I tell them. We can’t have him hear us now.

But as I stare at that glorious bird being roasted, I can’t help the way my body angles forward, my mind blanking on me until that juicy bird is all I see.

This is torture. Pure torture.

Even with the light dimming in the sky, I can see the golden hue of the bird’s skin and the way the juices fall down onto the flames, fanning them even more.

It’s even more painful as I watch him tear out a leg and bring that crispy meat to his lips.

I swallow. Hard. I have to bite my lip from crying out for mercy, and maybe some leftovers.

Digging my fingers into my thighs, I stare at his plump lips as they wrap themselves over the meat, biting into it before chewing slowly.

His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows.

The flames cast a shadow over his neck, emphasizing his muscles and tendons, and now I’m not only salivating for the meat, but for his perfectly sculpted body too.

God! What have I done to deserve this?

He eats the leg before he throws the bone to the ground, and I have to physically hold on to PomPom and BonBon so they don’t fly from my side in search of that mesmerizing scent of food.

“We’re all in this, guys,” I whisper. “I feel your pain. I promise I’ll give you lots of treats once we’re out of this, okay?”

They don’t seem too happy with me at the moment. I guess food is where they draw the line. But at the same time, I can’t let them blow my cover, so I pull both of them into my arms—they’re small enough to fit comfortably—and I try to get them not to bark or make too much noise.

My good-looking friend is enjoying himself as he tears out a breast piece, all meat and crispy skin. God, how will I resist this?

His mouth movements alone will get me into trouble.

My stomach rumbles again.

He eats that piece before he suddenly gets up. He looks around for a moment, holding his hands apart from his body, and I realize he’s searching for something to wipe the juice off his fingers. With a shake of his head, he teleports himself out of the clearing.

Based on his body language, I’m assuming he went to the river to clean himself. I wait a couple of minutes to make sure he’s not coming back before I decide that this is my chance. Surely he won’t miss a bit of meat, right?

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