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Nova’s gentle breathing had been replaced by loud huffs as she waited outside the door to the study for Dannika to come out.
I couldn’t say I was any different. It’d been almost an hour. I couldn’t imagine what was taking so long. In the time it took her to get ready, I’d had the room cleaned, removing all evidence of her tantrum the night before.
When the door finally opened, she came out, and she looked . . . well, she looked perfect. I couldn’t imagine her appearing sexier than she did at that moment. She had on a shapely, dark-green sweater, black jeans that showed off her shapely curves. Even her dark hiking boots made her legs look longer. She’d finished it off with a simple side braid. What about that made her so sexy? It was the way she wore it. It was natural.
She gave me a once-over, taking in my appearance. Dark jeans. Black shirt. Black boots. Simple and functional.
“You look nice,” I lied. She didn’t look nice. She looked hot as hell. “The green is a good color on you. I wasn’t sure what your style was. Let Ysa know what worked and what didn’t. I’ll make sure your wardrobe is brought in and you have space in the closet.”
Smoothing out the sweater, she said, “I was a bit surprised to see the assortment in there. When you’d said you were going to show me off, I assumed you wanted me to dress like . . . well, not me.”
“You expected me to dress you in corsets and leather pants?” I suggested, knowing full well the stereotype for female vampires.
She huffed a small laugh. “Something like that.”
I shook my head. “No, I expect you to dress like you. Whatever makes you comfortable. I don’t want to make you something you’re not.”
“Other than me becoming your mate,” she taunted, treading carefully between playful and disrespectful.
“Yes, other than that.” I grinned, knowing she still had preconceived notions of what this was. Of who I was. “I know this might come as a shock to you, Danni, but my goal isn’t to make you uncomfortable or unhappy. I want you to be yourself and enjoy the things you like. You aren’t my prisoner.”
She regarded me, dipping her chin down and angling her head. “Aren’t I, though? My life depends on acting the part you want me to play. Call it what you want, but you can’t call it freedom.”
“No, I suppose you can’t,” I said in agreement. “But I’m not out to hurt you. I know the transition isn’t going to be easy for you, and I’m happy to accommodate however I can. Despite what you no doubt have heard about me, I’m not inherently evil.”
“No, I don’t think that you are. It’s just been a difficult transition for me.” She held her hands behind her back and headed in my direction. “I don’t know how to do any of this yet. I’m completely out of my element.”
“We have time to figure that out. Mostly.” I checked my watch, then added, “You took longer than I expected, so there isn’t much time before I need to go meet with my Court.”
Taken aback, she stopped walking and stood completely still. “I didn’t realize I was holding you up,” she said, gazing at the clock on the mantel.
“I didn’t tell you I wanted to have breakfast together before my meetings. It was my error.” I waved it off. “You don’t need to change your routine. Take as long as you need when getting ready. I’ll adjust the amount of time I schedule things for us going forward. I thought I’d give you a few days to settle in before doing the official introductions.”
She wrinkled her brow. “Okay, that, uh, works for me . . .” she responded, trailing off. She fidgeted with her hands, looking around the room. “Now what?”
“Have a seat,” I said, gesturing to the chair opposite me in front of the empty fireplace. She strode slowly, sitting down, clearly unsure of what to do. “Tell me about yourself.”
Her face fell flat, and she looked around the room. “Are you being serious right now?”
“Of course. I should know things about my mate, and she should know things about me.” I crossed one leg over the other, resting my ankle just above the knee, and leaned back in my chair.
She adjusted in her chair and shrugged. “There isn’t much to know.”
I suppressed the need to roll my eyes. “I highly doubt that.”
She blew out a big breath. “This feels like a staged dating show. What do you expect me to say? I like candlelight dinners and long walks on the beach?”
I lifted my shoulders. “Do you?”
“Not really, no.”
“If you’d rather I ask the questions, I’m happy to do so,” I said. She pressed her lips together, not telling me whether it was okay or not, so I just went with it. “Why don’t we start with the most pressing one? What do you like for breakfast?”
“Huh?” Confusion filled her features, and her guarded posture relaxed slightly.
“Food. You need to eat,” I repeated, pointing to the table beside her. She looked at it curiously, taking the dome off the plate. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I had them bring up an assortment. What do you like so I can have it brought to you when we wake up? Do you like the same thing, or do you like to change it around?”
She blinked a few times while she stared at me. She picked up a biscuit, taking a bite. She chewed slowly, then swallowed and took a sip of water. “Same thing every day. A couple of eggs. Toast. Fruit if you have it,” she said. As I opened my mouth to respond, she interjected. “Not melons, though.”
