Hot Wings

by Ophelia Bell

  Bryer was already eagerly slicing into the cake and serving her the first thick slab as she sat. She waited to see their reactions before taking a bite herself, and was gratified by the moans of pleasure and closed eyes when they both tasted it.

  “If I could mate this cake right now, I would,” Bryer said. He looked at her, eyes bright with a reverence that made her pulse flutter wildly in her throat. Before she could wonder at what that look could mean, his expression changed, closing off like a door had shut behind his eyes.

  “Mmm,” Ignazio murmured. “You are setting our expectations high. You realize this, right?”

  “And I plan to exceed them with every meal. If I ever fail to, I want to know. This would have been better, but the other ingredient I wanted wasn’t in the pantry. I usually make this with the cake soaked in almond liqueur. I haven’t figured out what the equivalent is here yet, but I promise when I do, you guys are in for a treat.”

  Bryer closed his eyes as he chewed. “Mmhm, I can imagine it. That would be delicious.”

  Ignazio ate several more bites, his expression thoughtful. “Nessa might not have a full stock of spirits in there … it isn’t something she uses that often when she cooks. Let me check the liquor cabinet, see whether we have something close to what you’re looking for.”

  “Oh, okay,” Pomona said, trying to hide her eagerness.

  The kitchen pantry and garden already had a more than comprehensive selection of ingredients, but she never said no to new possibilities—it was a flaw that often frustrated her, because her own small kitchen back on Earth had been overflowing with exotic things and she’d been hard pressed to leave anything behind when she came here. Nessa had told her she wouldn’t need anything, but she’d still secreted away a few crucial spices she knew she couldn’t live without, just in case she couldn’t get them on this planet.

  Ignazio pushed back from his chair, leaving his dessert half-finished. He jogged away, and several minutes later came back to the table hauling a crate filled with sparkling bottles in a Technicolor array.

  Excited to start tasting, Pomona retrieved three small glasses from the china cabinet and set them out. They proceeded to sample from each of the bottles as they continued enjoying their dessert. Every bottle contained a liqueur made from the essence of some fruit, flower, or spice that grew on Nova Aurora, and none of them were quite like anything Pomona had ever tasted before. Her imagination went wild, concocting new recipes she could use each one in, including special cocktails that would be perfect for the seasonal party she was expected to prepare for at the end of the summer.

  Bryer reached out and arranged the bottles, frowning at each one. “You’re missing the best one,” he said.

  Ignazio shook his head. “No way. Remember, I won the collection from you in our bet three years ago.”

  Bryer laughed. “I know, and I kept the good one for myself. It’s hard to find bottles of the Precious Flower liqueur. I considered it my consolation prize for losing that year.”

  “A bet, huh?” Pomona asked, the alcohol loosening her tongue. “Do tell.”

  Ignazio and Bryer stared at each other, then at their glasses. Finally, Ignazio cleared his throat. “It’s just something we do at the end of every season, to keep our fans engaged during the summer. We make a bet with each other, it gets publicized, and at the pre-season kick-off party, we announce who won.”

  “What’s the bet?” she asked, sensing some discomfort when they refused to look at her.

  Bryer stared at his friend with one eyebrow raised.

  “Ah … it’s all in fun really,” Ignazio said, pointedly looking at his drink. “We … um …”

  Bryer filled his small glass with a shot of purple liqueur and swallowed it in one go, then looked directly at her. “Whoever beds the most females before the party wins the bet.”

  Pomona’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “Oh …” Then something dawned on her. “Um … last night …”

  “Didn’t count,” Ignazio said. “I mean, it’d be a wash anyway, but we didn’t …”

  Pomona’s skin heated and her head swam. Her mind fixed on the longing ache she’d suffered through half the night after returning to her bungalow.

  “We didn’t fuck.”

  “No,” Bryer said. “But the bet had nothing to do with it, anyway.”

  She met his gaze and saw his worried frown. Remembering Nessa’s notes about Bryer’s issues, she suddenly realized what had probably held him back—and if Ignazio knew, perhaps he’d restrained himself out of solidarity. Regardless, she felt better and gave Bryer what she hoped was a comforting smile that didn’t let on that she might be aware of his problem.

  “So who’s winning?” she asked, pouring herself a measure of a golden-colored liqueur that smelled so much like Ignazio her mouth instantly watered.

  “No one,” Ignazio said. “We didn’t make that bet this year.”

  “Oh,” she said, more alarmed by the sudden relief she felt than the arousal the idea of the bet had incited to begin with. She shouldn’t want these men as much as she did.

  For fuck’s sake, Pomona, get your head on straight.

  Eager to put the subject behind them, she redirected her focus to the bottles again. “So, tell me about this mystery bottle that isn’t here … What’s so special about it, anyway?”

  Both men relaxed, and Bryer perked up. “The Precious Flower is the favored flower of Nova Aurora. It has the most beautiful, rainbow-colored petals and a fragrance akin to … well, it smells like rainbows, too, there’s no other way to describe it. The liqueur is so rare because it’s made from the nectar of the flower, which can only be gathered by a special breed of honeybee. The liqueur is a combination of the fresh nectar and the honey produced by the bees.”

  Pomona realized her mouth was hanging open in wonder and she shut it, hoping she hadn’t accidentally started drooling.

  “I imagine that’s got to be a pretty expensive thing to keep on hand. I’d hoard it for myself, too. Any chance you’d consider sharing maybe a thimbleful just for a taste?”

  Bryer frowned, “I’ll think about it. Only a handful of bottles are produced every season. But it would be perfect with this cake.”

  The prior tension having dissipated and the alcohol taking effect, Pomona relaxed for the first time since arriving. Their conversation meandered, and she discovered that with a few drinks in them, the two men were surprisingly easy to talk to. Or maybe it was the drinks in her that made it easy. Either way, the night before was barely on her mind when she excused herself and cleared the dishes. Not a single crumb was left of the cake and the liqueurs Ignazio carried into the kitchen for her had given her a multitude of new ideas for coming desserts.

  The men said goodnight like perfect gentlemen, too, both insisting on giving her quick pecks on the cheek. Aside from the brief discomfort surrounding mention of their bet, she felt like she’d just been on the best date of her life … the kind of date she never wanted to end.

  “This is your job, Pomona,” she said to her mirror as she got ready for bed. “Don’t get carried away. They’re great guys, but they’re not for you.”

  Maybe not, but feeding them was more than a dream come true. If only her mind would stop feeding her dreams of them eating their meals off her body.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The next morning she walked into her kitchen, eager to christen every surface with the glorious randomness that would become Ignazio and Bryer’s first meal of the day.

  She finished her own simple breakfast of fresh fruit and a small pastry she’d made after lunch the day before. Nessa’s notes recommended keeping a lot of snacks on hand for the men to have between meals. They were apparently known for craving midnight snacks as well, and she was pleased to note significantly fewer of the pastries were left this morning than there had been the night before.

&nbs
p; She was moving the box of liqueurs into her pantry when something caught her eye. Behind the crate of bottles was a tall, oblong wooden box with elaborate gold filigree twisting around like delicate vines. The front had a little hook latch in the center of a meticulously painted, rainbow-colored flower that she recognized from the beds that surrounded her bungalow.

  The box had definitely not been there when she went to bed.

  Her heart racing, she reached for it and slowly opened it. As she pushed back the hinged lid, the morning sunlight caught the faceted crystal of the bottle inside, sparkling and illuminating the iridescent liquid the bottle contained.

  Around the neck of the bottle was a folded card attached to a purple ribbon. She opened it and read, “All yours. —B & I”.

  The seal was still intact on the cork. It had never even been opened.

  She stared at the bottle for several minutes, then grabbed her tablet and hurriedly did a search for Precious liqueur. Not that she didn’t believe Bryer’s description of it, but she needed to know exactly how valuable this stuff really was. Finding the page on the Nova Aurora net didn’t take long, and soon she was reading a detailed description.

  “The qualities of this liqueur are as myriad as the colors in the flower it comes from. Said to be the most versatile of medicinal plants, its curative properties are many, but can only be fully discovered in the hands of a skilled alchemist who understands how to unlock each specific property held in the plant’s nectar. The bottles are rare and traditionally were given as gifts from the original Nova Aurora kings to their chosen brides. It is said that sharing the liqueur enhances the psychic connection between mates.”

  When she got down to the estimated market value, she nearly lost her breakfast. Swallowing, she carefully closed the lid on the box and set the beautiful container on a shelf where the sunlight seemed to create a halo around it.

  She kept telling herself it wasn’t what the gift meant that bothered her, just how valuable it was. While she understood they were just trying to help, they couldn’t have known how much she treasured the most valuable ingredients she acquired … which was why she had kept her own small collection of priceless foodstuffs with her, rather than leave them behind on Earth. She’d told herself she’d bring them out for special occasions—because with the appetites of these two men, they’d be gone in a matter of days if she was too generous.

  But their generosity made her second guess herself. As she began putting together their breakfast, she kept stopping and staring at her ingredients, knowing she had more to offer, so why should she hold back? No, that was foolish and stingy of her, especially when their well-being was involved.

  She ran back out to her bungalow and retrieved her case of spices. The decision somehow left her feeling liberated, and even more ideas came to her throughout the day.

  Her curiosity eventually got the better of her and she took the Precious liqueur off the shelf. Holding her breath, she cracked the wax seal and uncorked the bottle. The aroma that wafted up was both floral and fruity at first, but a moment later, she detected hints of spice as well. When she poured a bit of the liquid into a small glass, the surface caught the light and changed colors, each new shade accompanied by a different scent.

  She took a tiny sip and closed her eyes, letting the liquid roll around on her tongue. It tasted a little tart at first, then as it warmed, took on a delicate, sugary flavor. The second sip was completely different, and cinnamon and vanilla filled her senses. The variety astounded her, but added even more potential recipes to her arsenal, which she couldn’t wait to try out.

  * * *

  That evening, Bryer and Ignazio invited Pomona to share dessert with them again. She accepted, more eager to see their reactions to her new experiment than anything. Tonight’s was a pair of little fondue pots with heated chocolate, one containing her standard recipe, and the other containing a few teaspoons of the Precious liqueur. She served it with a variety of different fresh fruits and small cookies and squares of cake to dip.

  But only one of the pots included the liqueur and she waited, watching both men to see if they reacted when they tasted it.

  Bryer started by skewering one of the little bell fruits and dipping it into the plain chocolate pot first. He popped it into his mouth and chewed, making a pleased sound and nodding at her in approval.

  “Delicious,” he said.

  “Try that one,” she pointed at the special pot. “Same fruit, though.”

  He obliged, his eyebrows raised in curiosity as he coated another fruit in the chocolate.

  When it went into his mouth, his eyes popped open and he stopped chewing. For a second, Pomona was worried it tasted terrible and not like the heavenly concoction she had hoped for. Had she used too much?

  Then Bryer’s eyes closed and a low rumble sounded from deep in his chest as he began chewing again, more slowly.

  Ignazio chuckled. “I’ve got to try this … it looks like you just woke up his dragon.”

  “Let me,” she said, picking up a skewer and choosing a different fruit for Ignazio—a wedge of a green-skinned fruit that outwardly resembled a pear, but that had blood-red flesh on the inside and possessed a spicy kick to it when the juice hit your tongue. She dipped it into the chocolate and turned to hand it to him.

  Ignazio opened his mouth, his red eyes sparkling with humor. Pomona swallowed, her pulse picking up when she realized the situation she’d just unwittingly put herself in. Feeding them was her job, so why was it suddenly so damn erotic to literally feed this man?

  Shoving aside the thoughts and images, she carefully placed the chocolate-coated fruit into Ignazio’s open mouth. He reached up and wrapped his hand around her wrist as he closed his mouth and pulled the fruit off the skewer, beginning to chew.

  Like Bryer, his eyes fluttered shut and he sat back in his chair. His hand remained around hers, the warmth of his skin flooding into her body and making her heat up from her core. He tilted his face to the ceiling and growled through his teeth as he began to chew.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Forget her delicious chocolate mousse from two nights ago. This was the stuff Ignazio wanted to pour all over Pomona’s lush body and spend the entire night slowly licking off her sweet skin. How could she know exactly what to put in his mouth that would cause his dragon to wake up and roar, “Mine” so insistently?

  It wasn’t just the chocolate, but the combination of the sauce and the fruit—one of his favorites—that had him scrambling for some less sensual imagery to fill his mind so he wouldn’t throw her down on the table and strip her bare.

  He was thankful, at least, that Bryer seemed to have the same reaction, so perhaps it wasn’t a product of her being his mate that caused this response. The dessert must really be that good.

  Once he swallowed, he slowly came to his senses, feeling a little drunk on the pleasure of those flavors lighting up his mouth like he’d had an orgasm from the neck up—but really ached for one from the waist down. He realized he was still holding onto her hand and she was giving him a distinctly wary look.

  “Sorry,” he said, releasing her and taking the skewer from her. “Let me taste the other ones.” He sampled the second pot of chocolate with the same fruit. It was tasty, but certainly didn’t evoke a sudden flood of pleasure through his entire body.

  He was almost afraid to taste it again for fear it was a fluke. Maybe she had to feed it to him? But no … if Bryer was any gauge, the stuff worked just as well the second time around, and she hadn’t even offered to feed him.

  “I lied last night,” Bryer said. “This dessert is going to be my mate. Seriously … do you think our children would be shaped like bell fruit?”

  Pomona giggled. “I think they’d be in danger of being eaten, either way.”

  “This …” Ignazio began, then cleared his throat. “Yes, you absolutely outdid yourself with this.”
>
  “It wasn’t all me, though. The Precious liqueur you gave me is what makes this so incredible. That little pot of orgasmic bliss has some in it. The other one doesn’t.”

  Ignazio’s eyebrows shot up at the mention of the liqueur. Bryer had given it to her? He glanced at his friend, who gave him a shrug in return. Through their dragons’ mental link, he heard Bryer say, “Don’t worry. I signed the card from both of us.”

  “So, thank you,” Pomona said. “Unfortunately, I will have to hoard it for special occasions, but I couldn’t resist at least testing it out once first.”

  “Thank you for allowing us to be your test subjects.”

  “Oh, there will be more opportunities. I’m working on some new recipes for your party in a few weeks. I will need your talented tongues again soon.”

  Pomona’s eyes sparkled with humor as she dipped a morsel into the infused chocolate sauce.

  Ignazio suppressed a smile and shared a secretive look with Bryer, but was unprepared for his friend’s response.

  “Our tongues are at your service day or night,” Bryer said. With a sly smile, he added, “For tasting, of course.”

  Pomona laughed and sat back in her chair, regarding them both. “I appreciate the levity, but in the interest of keeping the air clear between us, I need you two to know that …” She cleared her throat. “Well, Gerri Wilder offered to set me up on a date with a shifter. I’m not planning to take her up on it anytime soon, but I was curious … Is there any chance in hell she could find a guy who can top the two of you?”

  Ignazio frowned. Bryer shook his head. “No … I’m pretty sure every other male’s tongue is vastly inferior to ours,” he said in all seriousness.

  Pomona swung her hand at his arm, smacking it playfully and evoking a laugh that lit up Bryer’s face.

  Ignazio wasn’t sure how to feel about his friend’s sudden open camaraderie with Pomona. He hadn’t wanted to answer the question, anyway, because he’d have to tell her a bald-faced lie. There really were no other shifters for her. She was his, but he couldn’t very well admit that to her yet.