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40
Outside, a blast of icy air swirled around them, nearly sweeping the little Elite off her feet.
“Careful!” Valen grabbed her around the waist and swung her up into his arms. His heart was pounding—for a moment, he’d had an awful mental image of Selena tumbling past the lift and falling down the side of the mountain!
“You don’t have to carry me,” she protested, but he noticed she didn’t try to stop him. Instead, she cuddled in his arms, pressing her face to his shoulder and deliberately not looking at the steep drop behind them.
“Maybe I want to carry you,” Valen told her. He wondered if he had finally found something she was afraid of—extreme heights. Certainly she wasn’t frightened of glave riding, and she’d fought back bravely both times he’d seen her attacked.
She was also brave enough to submit to you—in public and in private, whispered a little voice in his head. And to tell you she has an interest in sexual submission. That must take a lot of courage—to let herself be so vulnerable.
He supposed he would have to wait and see where else their conversation led, but for the moment he had to admit he found himself admiring her courage, as well as her beauty.
Holding her close to his chest, he headed for the restaurant at the top of the mountain.
41
Valen held her close to his chest, carrying her with ease, though she was definitely not light. Selena clung to him and focused on the lighted windows and door ahead. It looked like they were headed for a restaurant built right into the side of the mountain, because there was no front wall or roof—just the lighted doors and windows encased in solid, blue-gray stone.
As they approached the door, it swung open and a Ma’shorkan man dressed all in fur, beckoned to them.
“Welcome, Master Kindred—do you have a reservation?” he asked Valen.
“Of course. Valen—party of two.”
The Ma’shorkan man checked a digital pad he had in one hand.
“Very good—I have a table all ready for you. Right this way, please.”
“Thank you.” Valen looked down at Selena. “Would you like to walk to the table or should I carry you, little one?”
“I can walk,” Selena said. “Though it was nice being carried for a while.”
He smiled and set her carefully down on her feet.
“Come on—let’s go inside.”
They walked into the restaurant and Selena realized that everything inside—apart from the gray stone walls—was carved from clear, blue ice. All the tables and chairs were ice, as was the long bar at the far wall, filled with bottles of liquor. Even the delicate-looking chandelier that hung from the middle of the ceiling was ice carved into gorgeous, fragile shapes that tinkled against each other softly.
“Oh—now I see why we needed the fur coats and boots to eat here!” she exclaimed as the Ma’shorkan maitre d’ led them to a table and chairs, which were all carved of solid ice.
“And the reason the restaurant is called ‘Ice Table,’” Valen said, giving her that one-sided smile of his.
“Please enjoy your time with us. Your waiter will be here shortly.” The maitre d’ left them with a couple of thick menus bound in pebbled black leather and went back to the door, presumably to wait for other guests.
There weren’t many people in the restaurant—only one other couple, sitting across the room from them. There was a fireplace to their left, but though it was filled with flickering gold and crimson flames, Selena didn’t feel any heat coming from it. She wondered if it was some kind of holographic illusion, meant to look cozy and romantic without actually putting out any heat which might melt all the furniture.
She was afraid that her behind would get cold, despite her fur coat. But there were thick leather pads on all the chairs, which insulated her nicely when she sat. There was a pad on the table in front of her too—a kind of leather placemat which kept her arms and hands from getting cold.
“Well? What would you like? It’s been a long time since the cream-cones we had on the beach,” Valen said, opening his menu.
“Um…I don’t know much about Ma’shorkan mountain cuisine,” Selena admitted. “By which, I mean I don’t know anything,” she added, laughing. “I mean—what is patre-non with golden shambla cream sauce?” She pointed to the menu and raised her eyebrows. “It might be delicious or it might be horrible.”
Valen gave her his one-sided smile again.
“Since you aren’t sure, would you trust me to order for both of us? I think I know enough about Earth cuisine to guess what might delight you.”
Selena smiled.
“Oh, I like that! You don’t just want to order something I like—you want to delight me.”
“Always,” he murmured, raising an eyebrow. “Will you trust me?”
“Always,” Selena said, giving the word back to him. She met his eyes boldly, her heart racing.
