“You know he’s going to spit in our food before he brings it, right?” Sophie said, her gaze sliding over Alasdair and his uncles’ sour expressions with amusement.
“What?” Alasdair asked with surprise.
“It’s never smart to be rude to your server, Alasdair. The things they can do...” She shook her head. “I’ve heard of people licking steaks, spitting into mashed potatoes, and jerking off into cream corn. So... yeah, I’m always nice to waitstaff,” she assured them and then smiled and admitted, “But if they’re complete jerks, I always get the waitperson’s name and leave a bad review once I’m out of there. I think the business should know what their people are doing if they’re creeps or rude.”
Alasdair stared at Sophie with horror as what she’d said went through his head. Licking steaks? Spitting into mashed potatoes? He didn’t even want to recall the creamed corn business. Thank God there hadn’t been any of that on offer as a side dish. But he had ordered steak. Dear God, he thought, and decided that when the bastard returned with their meals, he was definitely reading his mind to be sure he hadn’t tampered with anything. One glance at the determined expressions on his uncles’ faces told him they would probably all do the same. Mortals! he thought with disgust.
“I am sure Alex would not employ someone who would do anything like that,” Marguerite said soothingly. “And I really do not see his flirting a little with Sophie as that much of an issue. She’s not wearing a ring. He probably thought her single. And he barely glanced down her top. I do not think it was on purpose.”
Alasdair snorted at the suggestion. He had read the little creep’s mind and... Well, all right, it hadn’t been on purpose, but he certainly had enjoyed the view he’d accidentally got, and he hadn’t looked away from it quickly. In fact, he’d done a double take and slowed his movements as he gaped at what was apparently a really sexy bra if he was to go by the guy’s thoughts. It had pissed Alasdair off. She was his. No one should be seeing her intimate apparel but him, and he was jealous as hell that the waiter had.
Whatever, he thought with irritation. Marguerite might not think Alex would hire someone who would tamper with their food, and being immortal, Alex would be able to read the minds of her employees so probably wouldn’t. But he was still going to double-check and read the waiter’s mind when he returned, just to be sure everything was as it should be and nothing had been tampered with. He and Colle, like his uncles, ate every week or two to help keep up the muscle they’d built up when young and still growing. But aside from the occasional bite of this or that at celebrations for politeness’s sake, most of what they’d eaten before this was just raw steak, nice and bloody. Nothing cooked fancy, because it hadn’t been worth the trouble when they didn’t really have an appetite for food anymore. His appetite was back, however. Finding a life mate did that to an immortal, and he was looking forward to the meal . . . sans spit.
“That was mighty quick.”
Alasdair glanced up at his uncle Connor’s comment and then followed his gaze to see that several carts were being wheeled in with dinner plates of food on them. The first two carts went directly to the head table. The next three went to the table nearest the head table opposite theirs where Valerian’s parents, Uncle Gill, and Aunt Effie sat with other relatives. The three carts after that were led by the waiter who had been serving their table and came their way.
Alasdair immediately focused on the waiter and slid into his thoughts. He was relieved to find that Marguerite was right. He hadn’t messed with their meals. In fact, he felt bad about what had happened earlier, and kind of felt like a creep for it. Relaxing, Alasdair sat back in his seat and simply waited for dinner to be served. This time, he didn’t scowl at the man. He didn’t smile either, but he didn’t scowl.
“Oh look, the boys are setting up.”
Sophie tore her gaze away from the yummy-looking chocolatey dessert Alasdair was eating, to glance toward Marguerite at that excited comment. She then followed her gaze to where two men were pulling back two sides of the tent to make an opening that revealed what could have been the raised dais from the wedding tent, or just another one holding a drum set, an electric piano, speakers, and other miscellaneous things she didn’t recognize but suspected had to do with sound. Amps or subwoofers or whatever they would be called. She didn’t know much about music herself and what was needed by a band.
“I wonder where Giacinta is?” Alasdair murmured as they watched four men get on the stage and move to their positions.
“Who’s Giacinta?” Sophie asked him.
“She’s a member of the band too,” Alasdair explained. “She— Oh, there she is.”
Sophie looked to see a petite woman with bleached blond hair stepping onto the dais to join the men. She watched them get set up, and then asked Alasdair, “You know the band?”
“Yes, they’re the NCs and family from the Notte branch,” he told her. “NC stands for ‘Notte cugini.’”
“Cugini?” Sophie echoed with confusion.
“Italian for ‘cousins,’” he explained with a faint smile. “They are all cousins.” His gaze slid back to the dais. “Natalie was having trouble finding a band or even a DJ for the reception on such short notice, so Colle suggested Valerian ask the NCs. Fortunately, they agreed.”
“Ah, a family band,” Sophie said, trying not to sound too dubious, but she was thinking the music might be the only part of the wedding not as spectacular as everything else.
Apparently, despite her efforts, Alasdair heard her misgivings in her voice, because he said, “They’re a professional band. Very popular in Italy. They’re really very good.”
“I’m sure they are,” Sophie said apologetically, and then glanced down at his dessert again. It was almost half-gone and she sighed with regret that she hadn’t ordered dessert herself. But she simply hadn’t had room in her stomach after the meal. Marguerite hadn’t been kidding about the steak. It was marinated in something that was . . . well, just amazing. The sides had all been yummy too and she’d eaten every last bite of everything on her plate. It hadn’t left even a bit of room in her stomach for dessert. Although, staring at Alasdair’s chocolate cake with cherries and she didn’t even know what else in it, she was sure she could have made a little room for it.
“A bite?”
Sophie blinked when a forkful of the chocolate dessert appeared before her eyes. She stared at it with surprise, and then shifted her gaze to the man holding it out to her.
Alasdair smiled. “It is really good. Decadent. My taste buds are humming with pleasure with every bite. It would be a shame if you did not at least try it. I am willing to share.”
Sophie stared at him. It was the most he’d spoken since she’d met him and his raspy voice had a peculiar effect on her. Very peculiar. It kind of made her feel all warm and mushy inside, like she might very well melt into a puddle in her chair.
A voice that sexy should be outlawed, she thought a little weakly, and then realizing she was just gawking at him like a lovesick cow, she leaned closer and opened her mouth as Alasdair urged the forkful of deliciousness forward.
He didn’t shove it in her mouth, he eased it in, slow and almost gently, as if being careful not to rub it on her teeth or lips. When she closed her mouth around it, he then drew the fork back out just as slowly so that she could catch all of the dessert with her lips and keep it from leaving with the fork. All the while, he was watching with eyes that were beginning to glow, and Sophie really wanted to examine that effect. She wanted to understand what happened with his eyes, but her own were closing as the taste of the dessert exploded on her tongue. Chocolate, cherry, almond, whipped cream, and a hint of rum, the flavors struck her one after the other, and it was amazing. She’d never tasted anything so good, and didn’t want to swallow and end the experience. It was heavenly. But finally, she did with a sigh, and then immediately opened her eyes and whispered, “Thank you.”
“You are welcome,” he whispered back, his eyes glued on her lips.
Thinking she must have got some chocolate or whipped cream on her lips, she licked them and then glanced around for their waiter. Maybe she could fit some dessert in, after all. She didn’t spot their waiter right away, but her gaze did land on Tybo. He was looking their way, and had obviously witnessed Alasdair sharing his dessert with her, at least that was the only reason she could imagine for the sad expression she caught on his face before he quickly changed it to what to her seemed a forced smile.