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“It is not. Each dish is an exact reconstruction of what my mother used to prepare on special occasions. Took me years to track down the recipes.”
Okay. This was good. He was honoring the memory of his mamma and his childhood. This meant there was a part of him that still remembered what it was like to be human. Maybe I could work with that somehow.
“I’m impressed.” I added, “Didn’t know vampires can cook.”
“Why don’t you try some?” He gestured toward the food.
“You joinin’ me?” I asked.
“Sadly, no. I can drink wine in small quantities, but,” his pale eyes flickered to a dark shade of blue and focused on my neck, “I prefer to sate my thirst with other things.”
Not a smokey chance in hell, cowboy.“Well, too bad, because I’m not in a generous mood tonight.”
His pupils went wide.
Remember, Masie. You’re a strong, sassy Southern girl. You don’t take crap from nobody.“If you show me anything in your mouth that looks sharp, this night is over. So are you,” I warned. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m starvin’, and Mamma always says it’s a sin to waste food.”
He watched me grab a plate from the cupboard. I was so nervous, I grabbed a chicken leg with my hands instead of tongs. The meat fell off the bird like butter sliding off hot bread. I served myself heaping piles of potatoes and salad, too.
“I love how you take your sustenance in such bountiful proportions,” he said.
I sat at the counter and took a bite of the chicken leg.Oh God!It was bitter and tart.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
I’d rather eat at Al’s gas station over by the Rooster. Everyone knew you only went there to lose ten pounds.
I swallowed down the rancid meat. “What’s in this?”
He smiled like I’d never seen him smile before. “Are you asking for my mother’s recipe?”
Something deep in my gut told me this was a test. But if I was wrong, this would be the end of my journey. In the South, it was a cardinal sin to insult a mamma’s cooking. Couldn’t be much different elsewhere in the world.
“I appreciate when any man makes an effort,” I said, “but this food should’ve kicked the bucket with the people in your village. It’s nasty.”
He threw his head back and laughed.
I sighed with relief. I’d passed his test. “Laugh all you want, but I’ll never eat anything you cook again.”
His chuckle fizzled out. “I should hope not. Vampires cannot taste anything but blood. Having one prepare a meal for you is like asking the comatose to perform surgery.”
“You said you drink wine.”
“True,” he replied. “But I cannot taste it. Not like you do. The effects of the fermented fruit still take hold, but there is no joy in the act of consumption.”
Yes.Another nugget of information. Vampires could get drunk.
He stepped toward me, cupped the back of my head, and stared deeply into my eyes. “I much prefer to drink my wine through a beautiful woman.”
My breath stuck in my chest. Being this close to him felt like being cuddled by a frisky rattlesnake.
I stepped back, breaking free from his grip. “Then too bad for you, because I don’t consent.”
His gaze softened. “I am beginning to think you are toying with me, Masie.”
“Says the man who just cooked an inedible meal to test my honesty.” I drew a breath. “When are you gonna stop the games, Stark?” He claimed to be serious about me being his special someone.
“As soon as you give in, Miss Kicklighter.”
