“Okay, well…” She swallowed, seemingly uncertain. But she appeared to come to some sort of a decision because she finally added, “Your favorite Italian meal isparmigiana di melanzane.”
Her Italian accent over those three words was flawless, making me wonder if she spoke the language. But I was too distracted by what it meant in English to comment on her potential linguistics knowledge. “Eggplant parmesan? My favorite Italian dish is vegetarian?”Highly unlikely.
But a sudden boldness overtook her expression as she nodded. “Yes. But not the way Americans used to do it with all the breading. You like the eggplant bake where it’s layered with tomato-egg sauce and parmigiano reggiano.” She frowned then, her gaze suspicious. “But you know that. Right?”
I wasn’t sure what that question meant, so I ignored it. I was too caught up in the dish she’d just proposed. “What else would I eat?”
She was quiet for a moment, observing me, then listed three of my supposedly favorite appetizers—all vegetarian. And followed it up with a brand of red wine she claimed was my favorite in Italy. “You like the French ones in the cupboard, butwhen in Italy, you drink Italian wine. And you usually sweeten it. With my blood.”
Nowthatsounded like something I would very much enjoy. However, the general concept was too easy a guess.
Fortunately for her, she’d added the brand I supposedly preferred.
And several food dishes for me to try.
“What about dessert?” I pressed, beyond intrigued now with this game.
“Usually?” she asked, her eyebrow lifting. “You eat me.”
My lips twitched. “That’s too obvious.”
“Obvious or not, it’s true. But if you want me to name a food, then you like gelato. Cioccolato fondente, specifically.”
Dark chocolate, I translated to myself.
“Hmm,” I hummed, considering her responses. “And what about you, Ismerelda? What do I allow you to eat?”
“What do youallowme to eat?” she repeated, sounding surprised by my phrasing. “Whatever I want, usually.”
“Do I?” That didn’t sound right. Humans could alter their weight and size by eating too exorbitantly. And there were strict rules about that in the new world for a reason. However, her figure certainly appealed to me, so I decided to indulge her. “All right. In this case, what would you want?”
“Right now?” she asked, the question seeming to be rhetorical. “A pizza Margherita and some of the appetizers I already listed for you.” Her eyes roamed over me. “And then you for dessert.”
A coy response.
But it was a well-played move in this game.
“All right,” I murmured. “I’ll entertain this absurdity, Ismerelda. But if I decide you’re wrong about any of my tastes, I’m going to do a lot more than justeat youfor dessert.”
She shivered. “I understand, my liege.”
The term on her lips sounded odd to my ears. I couldn’t exactly decide why, so I simply nodded in reply. Everyone referred to me asmy liege. It was my due as king. And she, of all people, should absolutely address me that way. She was myErosita. My toy. My immortal blood bag to fuck and devour as I chose. She should worship me.
That was the expectation, was it not?
So why am I entertaining this game with her?I wondered as I moved toward the bed and sat beside her.
I couldn’t answer my own mental question, so I focused on continuing this little game by taking control of my laptop and logging in.
“Are you sure about this food order?” I asked, glancing away from my computer to admire her beautiful features.
She met my gaze without flinching. “Am I sure about your favorite Italian food from one hundred and eighteen years ago? Yes. Unless your palate changed while you were… away?”
“Asleep,” I corrected. “And no.” My focus shifted to her slender neck. “I don’t believe mypalatehas changed much at all.”
“Asleep?” she echoed, her brow furrowing.
“Yes.” I cocked my head at her befuddled expression. “Why does that confuse you?” It was an emotion I shouldn’t entertain, but it was a bizarre reaction to something she had to know.
