“Seems we have an agreement then.”
He nodded and left. It wasn’t long before he returned holding a large plate stacked high with meat and vegetables skewered on bamboo.
“We’re not joining the rest of the pack for dinner?”
He smiled and sat down on the bed, setting the plate on a side table. “I want you all to myself for now. I can share my new toy later.”
I got up and sat down next to him, looking at him warily. “We’re eating on the bed? Where are the forks and knives?”
“Nothing here needs utensils.”
“Do shifters even use utensils?”
He snorted. “No, Daphne, we just tear the throats out of our prey and stick our faces right in.”
“Thought so.”
His eyes gleamed with challenge. “You keep riling me up, Daphne. I might show you what happens when I’m provoked. And I mean that in a way where I think you’re going to like it.”
The thought filled me with a strange heat, and I quickly crossed my arms over my chest to hide the swelling buds of my nipples.
“There’s only one plate,” I pointed out.
“We’re sharing. We’re mates.” He picked up one of the kebabs and slid a chunk of chicken off of it. He brought it to my lips.
“Open wide.”
“Really? You can’t trust me with a bamboo stick? Do you think I’m going to use it as a weapon?”
“Oh, I think I can hold my own there.” He grinned fiercely. “This is part of the bonding ritual between fated mates.”
“That you hand-feed me food?”
“Yes.”
The chicken did look salivating. And the man holding the chicken looked just as salivating. So I indulged him. I opened my mouth and let him push the tender morsel in, sucking it out of his fingers and chewing it thoroughly. Every bit of sauce on it was wonderful, sweet and savory, and I enjoyed every little chew of it.
He followed that up with a piece of cauliflower. Well seasoned and the perfect balance of crispy and chewiness.
He kept feeding me until I finally protested. “You need to eat too.”
And before he could stop me, I grabbed a morsel of meat and held it out to him, pressing it up against his lips.
He leaned forward, seizing my wrist. He ate the chicken and then kissed the tips of my fingers.
“Oh,” I said, a soft sound of surprise.
He kissed the palm of my hand, his full lips so sensual and soft that I couldn’t help but imagine them on other parts of my body. And he looked up at me, his eyes gleaming with heat and promise. He knew exactly the effect he had on me.
My belly was full, but I was hungering for other things.
He returned the favor with the chicken, pressing another morsel into my mouth. And I found myself sucking his fingertips, licking every drop of sauce off, and the sound of his pleasured groan was so satisfying.
He fed me another morsel.
He growled in anticipation for me as I suckled his fingers. The food was quickly becoming second to this so-called ritual between us, us staring into one another’s eyes as we went on.
It was no surprise when he moved the plate away, setting all of the food on the floor and then settling next to me, leaning in to claim my lips in a kiss.