by J. R. Ward
Chapter Fifty-Two
"One more?"
As Tohr returned his attentions to the silver tray of food, No'One wanted to decline the offer. Indeed, lying back against the pillows of his bed, she was stuffed.
And yet as he shifted toward her with another ripe strawberry held by its fluffy green crown, she found the fruit was too much to resist. Parting her lips, she waited, as she had learned to wait, for him to bring the food to her.
Several of the bright red berries had failed to meet his rigorous requirements, having been set aside on the edge of the tray. The same had been true for some of the slices of freshly cooked turkey, as well as parts of the green salad. The rice had all passed muster, however, as had the delicious sourdough bread rolls.
"Here," he murmured. "This is a good one. "
No'One watched him watch her as she accepted what he provided. He was singularly focused on her consumption - in a way that was both touching and a source of fascination. She had heard of males doing this. Had even caught sight of her parents in such a ritual, her mother seated to the left of her father at the dining table, him inspecting each plate and bowl and glass and cup afore it was sent in her direction by him personally, rather than by the staff - provided the food was of high enough quality. She had assumed the practice was a quaint holdover from some earlier time. Not so. This private space here with Tohrment was the basis of exchanges such as that. In fact, she could imagine aeons ago, in the wild, a male returning with something freshly killed and doing likewise.
It made her feel. . . protected. Valued. Special.
"One more?" he said again.
"You shall make me fat. "
"Females should have meat on their bones. " He smiled in a distracted way as he picked up a plump berry and frowned at it.
As his words resonated, she did not take them to mean he thought her wanting in any fashion. How could she, when he had done nothing but pick through perfectly good food and weed out what he did not think was worthy enough for her?
"A last one, then," she said softly, "and then I must decline all other offerings. I am full to bursting. "
He tossed the berry aside with the other rejects and snagged another, and whilst he all but growled at the poor thing, his stomach let out an empty howl.
"You must needs eat as well," she pointed out.
The grunt she got back was either grudging approval of the second berry or agreement - likely the former.
As she bit down and chewed, he rested his arms in his lap and stared at her mouth as if he were prepared to help her swallow if he had to.
In the quiet moment, she thought, oh, how he had changed since the summer. He was so much bigger - impossibly so, his once large body now absolutely mammoth. And yet he had not swollen up unattractively, his muscles expanding to this outer limit without any coating of fat upon them, his form pleasing to the eye in its proportion. His face had remained lean, but it was no longer drawn, and his skin had lost the gray pallor she had not recognized until color bloomed anew in his cheeks.
The white streak remained in his hair, however, evidence of all he had been through.
How often did he think of his Wellesandra? Was he as yet dwelling upon her?
Of course he was.
As her chest ached, she found it difficult to draw breath. She had always had sympathy for him, her pain receptors firing up when he was in extremis sure as if his loss was her own.
Now, though, she had a different kind of agony behind her sternum.
Mayhap it was because they were closer still now. Yes, that was it. She was commiserating with him at an even deeper level.
"Done?" he said, his face tilting to the side, the lamplight hitting it with gentle kindness.
No, she was wrong, she thought as she dragged another breath in.
This was not commiseration.
This was something altogether different from caring about another's suffering.
"Autumn?" he said. "You okay?"
Staring up at him, she felt a sudden chill tickle the skin of her forearms and skitter across her bare shoulders. Under the warmth of the covers, her body shimmied in its own flesh, going cold and then flushing with heat.
Which was what happened, she supposed, when your world was turned upside down.
Dearest Virgin Scribe. . . she was in love with him.
She had fallen in love with this male.
When had it happened?
"Autumn. " His voice grew more forceful. "What's going on?"
The "when" couldn't be pinned down, she decided. The shift had occurred millimeter by millimeter, the engine of change driven by exchanges between them both big and small. . . until, similar to the way the lovely night fell and laid claim to the landscape of the earth, what began as imperceptible culminated in the undeniable.
He bolted up to his feet. "I'll get Doc Jane - "
"No," she said, holding out her hand. "I am fine. Just tired, and satiated from the food. "
For a moment, he gave her his strawberry look, that discerning eye of his narrowing and locking on.
Clearly she passed muster, however, as he sank back down.
Forcing a smile to her lips, she motioned to the second tray, the one that still had the silver covers over its dishes. "You should eat now. In fact, perhaps we should get you some fresh food. "
He shrugged. "This is fine. "
He popped the berries that hadn't been good enough for her into his mouth as he revealed his dinner, and then ate everything that had been left behind on her tray as well as all that was on his own.
His attention diverted was a good thing.
When he was finished with his meal, and the remains of her own, he took the trays and the stands and put them outside in the hall.
"I'll be right back. "
With that, he disappeared into the bathroom, and soon the sound of running water drifted out to her.
Curling onto her side, she stared at the closed drapes.
The lights went out and then his quiet padding came across the carpet. There was a pause before he got upon the bed - and for a moment, she worried that he had read her mind. But then she felt a cooling breeze against her and realized he'd lifted the covers. For the first time.
"Okay if I join you?"
Abruptly, she blinked back tears. "Please. "
The mattress dipped down and then his naked body came over against her own. As he gathered her in his arms, she went willingly and with surprise into him.
That odd, ambient chill went through her again, bringing with it a sense of foreboding. But then she was warm, even hot. . . from his flesh against her own.
He must never know, she thought as she closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest.
He must never, ever know what beat within her heart for him.
It would ruin everything.
