Page 192 of Fated or Knot

I should’ve probably tidied up in here before rushing off to make dinner, but I’d been so excited for this meal. The fact there was one chair, a blocky fireproof monstrosity I’d sat in so much, the wood was soft and pitted to the touch, was something I’d already been aware of.

With a thrill up my spine, I said what I’d been daydreaming about since I’d first come up with the idea for this date, “I was thinking you could sit in my lap, and I’ll feed you.”

I took great joy in feeding my li’l bird, in general. Providing for her every need was a delight and the role in life that I’d embraced since I started training as the next queen’s comfort. But I wanted to go further still; have my omega sit in my lap and accept bits of food from my hand.

She nibbled on her lower lip as she considered the tiny room. The winter lodge didn’t have any spacious suites. It was built to house as many travelers as necessary during busy hunting seasons and also the coldest days of the year, when our more hapless citizens sometimes needed rescued from Serian’s unforgiving weather and warmed up in a safe place. This room was only really big enough for one of us, so if she didn’t want to sit in my lap…I guess we’d need to go back downstairs.

“It’s not a bother?” she asked.

“Nay,” I said, probably too quickly. “I mean, I would love to share this moment with you. If you’re okay with it.”

She smiled up at me, her eyes twinkling with many sparkling reflections from the essence lamp overhead. The sight always made my heart skip a beat. She was straight from the dreamlands. A gift from the stars that smelled like one of my favorite things in life, a sweet dessert, who’d given me back my control and loved me despite the monstrous form lurking under my skin.

She said, “Yes, I think I’d like that.”

Me too, li’l bird.

I set the platter down at the foot of my bed and swiped aside the failed wood carving and the knife that went with it. “Okay, I saved us some of the best stuff,” I told her as I arranged all of it on the desk. The main dish and dessert, I kept covered under appropriately sized cloches, but now the goblets for wine and water, the bread and butter, and the salad were in plain view. I’d prepared a lot more salad than necessary, just in case she didn’t actually like my cooking.

I stashed the wine bottle under the desk for now and sat, patting my lap with excitement kindling within me. She sat across my thighs and rested her slight weight on my chest. “This looks really nice,” she murmured. “You’re helping me eat all that salad, right?”

“We don’t have to eat all the salad.” I’d heard plenty about “overfeeding” her by now. Like having a round and happy mate was a bad thing!

I dished some up for both of us and speared a few bits of lettuce on the fork I guided to her mouth, my other hand under the tines to catch any spillage. She chewed demurely, crunching into the fresh greens. “Bread? Water?” I asked.

“I want you to feed yourself too.”

“I will, li’l bird. Just tell me what you want and I’ll get it for you first.”

“More salad. All of this was here at the lodge?”

“Your house moths delivered the ingredients fresh from the palace. I prepared it from there.”

She nodded and munched through another forkful of salad, and I ate some as well. The tart lemon vinaigrette really added a good zing to such a meal staple.

I watched her expressions for the little hints as to what she’d want next. I told her about my wood carving experiments at this desk, explaining the many scars it’d received from my frustration while she listened attentively.

She ducked down to pick up my failed carving and inspected it. “Oh, that’s the problem. This isn’t the right wood for carving.”

I blinked in surprise. “Huh?”

“See the grains? They’re too far apart, and that’s why they’re splintering,” she explained. She pointed at the offending split in the wood, where I’d given up in frustration. “You need wood with a tighter grain and then you’ll get further.”

“You’re so smart, li’l bird,” I said cheerfully.

We ate buttered bread, and soon it was time for me to reveal the main course. Palms tingling with some mixture of excitement and nerves, I pulled up the bigger cloche to reveal my handiwork in a cloud of fragrant steam. I’d prepared boar with an apple reduction, served with caramelized onions. To theside were hills of roasted potatoes and root veggies, dusted in rosemary and thyme.

She inhaled and a purr thrummed through her. I drank in her expression and the feeling of her delight vibrating my heart at just the right frequency. The best sound, and feeling, in the world had to be my mate’s purr.

I traded plates around and poured the red wine that paired with the meal. “This is a good old berry wine, no fae fruit involved,” I told her.

“Thank the stars for that,” she giggled. “This looks amazing. Let’s try it.”

“First, wine.” I give her a sip from her goblet and tried it too. Oh aye, that was going to be perfect. Now for the moment of truth…cutting into the meat. Nothing would ruin this meal faster than if I cooked the boar too much or too little, and I was nervous. With my dad, cooking over a fire, it didn’t matter either way. Too little and we could just bathe it in flame on the way down. Too much and it just received anachand some extra fire anyway.

Lark deserved a perfectly cooked, juicy boar. I cut into one and…phew. It was the correct color inside. I fed her a cut of meat with some of the apple reduction dabbed on top and waited breathlessly for her reaction as she tasted it.

Her face was a moment I’d picture forever. She chewed and the flavors hit her tongue, earning a soft sound of delight. Her expression lit up and her eyelids lowered from the simple pleasure of good food. There really was nothing like the first bite of any meal. I’d argue that there were few experiences better than that opening bite, as anticipation met satisfaction.

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