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“Would you like some tea?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You clearly know nothing about humans. I’m not about to accept a drink from a stranger.”
Then he drops a bombshell I did not see coming.
“We are not strangers. You are my mate.”
ChapterFour
Cyran
The human tilts her head in the most fetching way.
“Mate? Are you kidding me?”
“I do not kid. Most of the time, kidding around doesn’t make sense to me. Though I do enjoy reading the letters from children that include jokes. Those are great fun.”
“Children send you letters? Why? Do you have a dozen illegitimate children around the world who call you Daddy? Because I have to say, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
Her eyes glance down to my middle for the briefest of seconds. The blush that creeps into her cheeks is quite alluring.
“I believe such a claim in your world would denote virility. Elves do not reproduce at such a pace. When we come of age, we are matched with one elf mate and only one, with the sole purpose of furthering the species. But there is no pleasure in it. At about the age of 30, our libidos fade and we get on with the more important tasks of life.”
But with human biology in the mix, the slow breeding cycle of elves seems to be extended. That’s based on Eldrin and his Clara — Santa and Mrs. Claus — now laden with four children in the span of twelve human years. I honor the feeling that I should not tell Ivy all of these observations. Something tells me she won’t take it well.
“What are you, a cosplayer? The ears are pretty convincing.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about, nor do I understand why she’s now pacing the room. I do not know what cosplay is. The only thing I know to do is start from the beginning and be completely honest.
I back away from her and motion to my most comfortable chair. “Please sit and allow me to make you some tea.”
The pleasing smile that spreads across her face makes her pretty eyes disappear into her plump cheeks.
“Sure, I’ll have some tea,” she says, changing her tone with a delightful chuckle, then seats herself, pulling a blanket over her lap and stretching her feet out in the heat of the flames.
She’s up to something.
“Lay it on me, elf.”
Ivy is not what I expected. She’s full of questions. Loud ones at that. I get on with preparing the loose-leaf tea. I press my hand to the kettle and the water boils instantly, while positioning my body between Ivy and my kitchen so as not to let her see my magic. She’s not ready for it.
“That was quick,” she says, but she’s still smiling as she takes the tea. “I’ll need cream and sugar.”
“No, you won’t,” I assure her. “Elves make superior tea to anything you’ve ever tasted, and you will not need cream and sugar.”
“I’m telling you, I will.”
“Just try it,” I say, standing over her, biting back my offense. Is Nicholas’s wife like this? Is it normal for humans to argue about the dumbest things? Am I being too bossy?
Ivy rolls her eyes, and I find that aggravating but also arousing.
The second I saw her sleeping, I was awash with new feelings. Now that I have her in my house and she’s talking and asking questions, the arousal seems to spike in concert with my annoyance. She’s challenging, and the heat inside my stomach spreads out to my limbs every time she pushes back.
Though my mind is regretting this, Ivy’s argumentativeness makes my cock stir.
“Fine, I’ll try it. Geez,” she says, taking the cup and blowing the steam across it. “Talk about committed to the role.”
I’ve forgotten what we were arguing about when her lips purse to blow steam across the surface of the tea. Her mouth was slack and pliable and kissable as she slept. Charming when it drooled on my pillow. But now those lips are puckered in such a way that I can’t help but think about it wrapped around a finger.
