Page 4 of Tentacles and Teeth

The idiot bristled. “I don’t take orders from you.”

Fenn wasn’t a Rider, nor was he officially affiliated with the bar. His loner status meant that his authority was what he made of it. He didn’t move. Didn’t flex, didn’t snarl, didn’t shift. His eyes lightened to a pale, feral yellow and energy swept out of him in a wave. The space around him grew as people scrambled away, those nearest cringing, flinching, or baring their necks in deference.

Silk reached out a hand, grasped the bus bin that flew to his call, and walked away without another word. He might just grow up to be a real boy. In five or ten years, maybe. If nobody killed him in the meantime.

Fenn put a hand on the bar and vaulted over.

“You sure?” The question was a formality, and we both knew it. I was already walking to the sink to wash up, my skin buzzing with a low, almost electrical hum as my tentacles settled into trailing spirals painted across my skin once more.

“Go.” He shrugged into an apron. His muttered, “Lucky bitch,” as I walked away made me smirk.

Friends called out to me as I pushed through the crowd and I responded automatically, smiling and joking but never stopping. All my focus was on the flashes of caramel and cream peeking through the crowd.

I slid in behind Katarina, settling my hands on her hips and widening my stance so that thick ass I’d been fantasizing about rubbed against me as we rocked together.

She arched her back, curving her arms up to twine around my neck. There was no surprise in her glittering eyes when they tilted up to meet mine. This obsession cut both ways. Her eyebrows raised as she flicked her gaze between me and my abandoned counter.

“Off early for good behavior,” I murmured in her ear. “You ready to get out of here?”

She rounded in my arms, damn near making my eyes cross as her lushness slid all over me.

“I’ve never been more ready.” She reached down, grabbing my hand and tugging me towards the entrance.

I laughed, pulling her tight against my side and hustling us to the back instead. “I’m driving, sweet girl. Your car’s safe here, and I’ll bring you back anytime. Just say the word,” I reassured her. “But I want you where I can see you. Smell you. Talk with you. Touch you. That ok?”

The rush of blood to her cheeks and the hot honey smell of her excitement were all the answer I needed.

???

I laid the jacket I’d pulled from the car onto the ground, savoring Katarina’s quick smile as she settled on top of it.

“So chivalrous,” she purred. “I was all prepared to be taken home and ravished, but here you are. A meal, an intimate grotto...you’re a secret romantic, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say it was a secret.” The corners of my mouth lifted as I stretched my legs out beside her. And although the food hub was one of my favorites, I also wouldn’t call it especially romantic. Set within a rough tree-ringed clearing, kitchens fronted by brightly painted booths bustled to serve a boisterous crowd of people illuminated by bobbing, multi-hued pix lights. We had the illusion of privacy thanks to a large flowering bush that sat between us and most of the crowd, but it wasn’t anything I’d call “intimate.” Sliding a hand around the base of her skull, I pulled her close enough our lips brushed as I whispered, “Did you really think I’d take you home without feeding you first? I plan to see you satisfied in every way.”

“Mmm,” Katarina purred. “I like the sound of that.”

“Good.” Trailing my hand down her arm, I tangled our fingers together and brushed a kiss over her knuckles before reaching for the tiffin holding our surprise dinner. Made up of three round tins stacked together, it was enchanted with a seal that ensured that we’d open it to find the food exactly as it had gone in. Hot food would be hot, cold food would be cold, and no matter how you shook it, nothing would spill or slosh.

“You really don’t know what’s in there?”

“No,” I replied. “The enchantment keeps the scent in as well as the heat.”

She squinted at me. “So, everyone just gets something random? What about allergies? Vegetarians?”

“It’s not random,” I laughed. “It’s...preordained. That’s how Didi’s works. There’s no menu. They know what you need, so that’s what they make and that’s what you get.”

“Are they precognizant?” She was understandably surprised. Precognition was a valuable talent, too valuable to waste on food. Even if that food included the best curry I’d ever tasted.

“No. From what I understand they don’t know who or why, just what. A Tamil saint blessed the family a few generations back. Didn’t affect their cooking—that’s all them—but ordering is a lot simpler now.” I flipped open the clasps and pulled the lid off, releasing a curl of fragrant steam.

“Dosas! Mmm, they look amazing!” She leaned forward, sniffing with a happy hum.

A lock of her hair slipped forward, but I caught it with a tentacle before the trailing ends could fall in our food. Tucking it behind her shoulder, I let the sensitive tip slip over the pounding pulse in her neck and swirl in the hollow of her throat. Her pupils widened as my tentacle traced the barely contained curves of her breasts above the lace.

Without looking away, I reached down and tore off a piece of golden crepe filled with spiced potatoes. Holding it to her mouth, I breathed, “Open.”

Her lips closed around my fingers; eyes fluttering shut as the flavors hit her tongue.

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