Page 61 of Needed in the Night
“I am sorry your mission did not go as planned.” I caressed her cheek, but she raised her head and moved away from my touch.
“Do you not feel the same about me now?” she demanded. Her eyes had become fiery. “Because my appearance changed?”
My stomach churned because I had somehow made her angry. But the more I looked into her eyes, the less I thought my reaction had caused her to be upset.
This was not anger at me, I decided. This was anger at the Erotovo who had held someone captive and now hunted for her, combined with fear that by changing her appearance she might not be herself any longer.
“My feelings have not changed at all,” I said, my voice firm. “No matter what color your hair is, or your eyes, or the shape of your face, you areIsla.”
She studied me for a long time. “So if my hair was brown,” she said finally, “or my eyes were blue, or my voice was a little different?—”
“—I would love you just the same.” I cupped her cheek, and this time she did not move away from my hand. “It is your soul I love, my mate.”
She lay back down and let out a breath. “Okay,” she said quietly. “I believe you.”
We lay like that for a long time, soaking in the warmth and the comfort of being close to each other. Absently, she caressed my arms, my side, my thigh, and my chest, and even played gently with my nipple piercings and spines. Her casual explorations were wonderfully sensual.
I did the same, memorizing every detail of the shape of her ears, the graceful curves of her shoulders and neck, the dip above her collarbone, and the sublime curvature of her hip. Iwould learn everything about her body, from her toes to her hair.
“How do you feel?” I asked when I judged nearly an hour had gone by.
“I feel loved.” She moved her head to look up at me. “Safe and loved. And that’s really nice.”
I drew her gently up my body so I could kiss her. “It is very nice,” I agreed. “What may I do for my mate so she feels even more safe and loved?”
“I’m starving,” she said instantly. “Feed me?”
CHAPTER 22
ISLA
Rather than arrangefor food to be delivered, Mikas declared his intention to cook a meal for us—a very fine and lovingly made gourmet meal that consisted of a half-dozen mouth-watering dishes.
Of course, watching Mikas cook naked might have contributed to how frequently I licked my lips in anticipation. Even with his back to me, he clearly knew I was watching, judging by his smile and the way he flexed his buttocks every so often.
I offered to help with the cooking, but he insisted I relax on the sofa wrapped in a plush robe that was big enough to accommodate both of us, or one generously sized Prylothian.
He brought the feast and a bottle of wine to the sitting area on an enormous tray and set it on a low table in front of the sofa.
“We could sit at the dining table,” I protested.
“If we did, I would not be able to do this.” He sat next to me,drew me onto his lap, and pulled the tray closer. “I am sorry there are no jampas.”
“I guess even as an ambassador Atlath doesn’t have your connections,” I teased. I looked over the dishes in amazement. “I can’t believe you made all this just from what you found in the kitchen. This is enough to feed an army.”
“You said you were hungry. So am I.” He kissed my temple. “This is my first proper meal I have made and shared with my mate. I could not very well bring you toasted bread, a bowl of fruit, and bits of cheese.”
“Thank you for making us this amazing meal.” I leaned my head against his chest. “But for the record, I love bread, fruit, and cheese very much and that would have been fine.”
“Fineis not good enough for my Isla, especially not on this special occasion.” He made a sweeping gesture over the tray. “Which would you like to try first?”
I sampled each of the dishes, confirming they tasted even better than they smelled. While many of the ingredients in the kitchen came from Prylothia, there were also staple food items native to Fortusia, and he’d combined them to create absolutely delicious soup, bread topped with layers of meats, sweet sauces, and spicy vegetables, and baked vegetables stuffed with a savory meat and gravy.
Once I’d expressed my approval and appreciation with a long kiss, he began to eat as well. And he ate. And ate. Andate.
When I’d said he’d made enough food to feed an army, I supposed I’d meant an army comprised of one hungry Fortusian male.
Long after my belly was full and I’d curled up sitting crossways on his lap and nestled into the crook of his arm, Mikas finally pushed the now nearly empty tray away and rested his chin gently on top of my head. “You are content?” he asked.
