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“I hit a fast-food place on my way to the theme park you kidnapped me from.” I take a step closer to the food, inhaling deeply.
“I said a proper meal,” he chastises.
My stomach rumbles in agreement, betraying how long it’s been since I’ve had more than convenience food. The intoxicating aromas of sweet berries, savory herbs, and grilled meat fill the air.
“In fairy tales, they say eating fae food will trap the unwary,” I say, only half joking.
Caelan’s laugh rolls through the room. “That was Underhill. Some sithes used food as a binding tool. But not ours.”
“No, just stones left lying around.” I pull out one chair and sit, still keeping him in my line of sight. “So, no food taboos. What about magically binding contracts?”
“We have plenty of those.” He remains standing, hands clasped behind his back in a formal way Elionn never adopted around me. “But we don’t hide them in pastries.”
I reach for what appears to be a small loaf of bread, tearing off a piece. It’s warm between my fingers, sweet and herbaceous. “What about iron?”
I remember the gingerly way Elionn handled the iron manacles, the last time I was in this realm, in their dungeon.
He tracks my movements, pupils narrowing. “Iron affects the lesser fae to a greater extent. For more powerful fae, it’s more of a burning irritation.”
As I pop the bread into my mouth, the flavor explodes, sweet, complex, with notes of honey and a wildness reminiscent of heather from a mountainside. I stifle a moan of appreciation.
“What about true names?” I ask after swallowing. “Can I control you if I learn your full name?”
“Names hold power,” he admits, finally taking the seat across from me. “But control requires more than knowledge. It requires consent, in some form, Amalia Wolf.”
A shiver goes through me at the way he purrs my name, but it doesn’t wrest control of my body or subvert my will.
I reach for a goblet, swirling the purple liquid before taking a careful sip. The flavor is unlike anything I’ve experienced, like tart berries undercut with an unfamiliar mineral. “Bargain magic? If I say ‘I swear’ in your presence, am I bound to whatever I promised?”
“No more than saying thank you to a demon entraps you in their debt.” His fingers drum once on the table before stilling. “But if you fail to meet your given oath, it proves your word means nothing.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty universal.” I cut into what appears to be venison, or a similar protein, and bring a piece to my lips.
The meat melts in my mouth, releasing flavors of smoke and wild herbs.
I gesture to the plates in front of me. “Are you going to just stare at me while I eat? I can’t possibly finish all this.”
He settles into the chair beside me at the table. “I ate earlier.”
“So you just enjoy watching me?” I pop a berry into my mouth. “Not to yuck your yum, but it’s a bit weird to be the only one stuffing my face.”
“I suspect there is more meaning to those words than what I am receiving.” He reaches out to take one of the succulent purple fruits. “Explain this yucking my yum. Is this food not pleasing to your palate?”
“It’s good.” I take another swallow of the wine, and warmth suffuses my body. “It means to disparage something someone else enjoys.”
He arches a brow as he takes the glass from my fingers. “So you find watching others eat unpleasant?”
“No, I find it unpleasant to eat in front of people who are not eating.” My focus drops to his lips as they settle on the rim of my cup. “It’s rude.”
“That is reasonable.” His tongue sweeps out to catch a drop of purple liquid. “But then why does the translation have a sexual overtone?”
A startled laugh escapes me. “It’s a kink, too.”
When his brow furrows in confusion, heat creeps up my neck.
“Some people gain sexual gratification from watching others eat,” I explain. “Some people enjoy feeding their partner as foreplay.”
“Ah.” He sets another slice of bread on my plate. “I can understand the appeal. You do not take enough care of yourself. If you would allow it, I would feed you to your heart’s content.”
