Blood Oath (Darkest Drae #1)(64)

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

He schooled his expression and pointed at the table. “Your supper is ready.”

Lord Irrik was officially weirding me out, which was saying a lot because I was pretty sure “weirding” wasn’t a word. I was inventing words because my vocabulary had no words for him. “I thought supper was ready when we came in.” I raised my brows and continued down the pathway of insanity I was quickly growing accustomed to. “Just like every night.” I closed my eyes and bit my tongue to stop my sarcastic comments. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what it is about you that makes me say those things.”

He chuckled, and the sound stroked my frayed nerves. “At least I always know where I stand with you.”

Really? Because he confused the everliving life out of me.

He stepped back from the doorway, and I inched past him, every nerve attuned to his proximity. When he stepped into the washroom and closed the door, I sighed with relief and crossed the large empty expanse to the couch and table. I stared at the high ceiling, trying to collect my thoughts. When that proved useless, I turned my attention to supper.

My silver platter was laden with food.

A large roast of meat, sliced thick and still pink in the center, sat in the middle, surrounded by roasted potatoes the size of my thumb. Yeah, I’m pretty sure those weren’t grown by me and my Phaetyn powers. They were way too small.

A small dish of brussel sprouts fried with bacon and a small basket of yeast rolls competed for my attention.

My mouth watered as I looked for my plate. Only there wasn’t one. There was one set of silverware and one mug for the flagon of nectar. Which meant he’d intended to leave me in the dungeon all night.

“Why aren’t you eating?” he growled, coming out of the washroom not long after, his liquid black hair still glistening with water. He held a towel in his hands and was drying his muscular chest and torso.

Heat crept up my neck, and I averted my gaze. Did I want to? Maybe not. I’m sure Tyr would have something to say if I didn’t, however.

—Lord Irrik—Friend or Foe? — —The Drae—Damned or Demented? — —The King’s First—by Intention or by Accident? — “Why do you keep saving me?” I asked, glancing back.

He crossed the room to the wardrobe, picked a black aketon from a row of black aketons, and pulled it over his head. It must be so hard for him to decide what to wear each morning.

After fastening the ties, he faced me. His dark gaze pinned me to the soft cushions. Several seconds of silence hung in the air around us, but I was determined to not add anything else to my question. I wanted his answer. I wanted to know something about the Drae.

“You continually need saving,” he said flatly. Instead of coming to share the food, he went to the bed and perched on the edge. He threw me a dark scowl. “If you don’t start eating, I’m going to come over there.”

“That’s rich,” I laughed. “In one breath you tell me you continually have to save me, and in the next you threaten me.” I picked up the fork, speared a glistening sprout, and popped it in my mouth. I would miss the food when I left. Waving the silver utensil in the direction of Lord Broody-Drae, I said, “I wish you would make sense. Just once.”

I sliced into a piece of meat and dipped it in a creamy white concoction on the tray. I sniffed at the sauce, which had a pungent peppery smell, and took a tentative bite. The richness of the meat and the sauce married perfectly in my mouth. My entire world became the tray for a few minutes, but after several bites in silence, I looked up to see Irrik watching me. Still.

Creeper.

I poured the nectar and took a long drink but couldn’t help peeking at him over the rim of the mug.

He raised his eyebrows.

I set the cup down and studied him. “I can’t understand you at all. And believe me, I’ve tried. Nothing you do makes sense. You said you wanted me to learn a lesson in the dungeon, which I assumed would mean Jotun—”

My thoughts skidded to a halt, and I covered my mouth. Him suddenly collecting me from the dungeons. His break from routine. His slumped shoulders. My hunger disappeared, my stomach now filled with the unease of questions I wasn’t sure I wanted answers for. In fact, I was certain I didn’t want answers.

He hadn’t warmed the bath water, and I could only guess that meant . . .

“You’re not going to try to breed with me, right?” I asked, determined to know my fate. The idea of being intimate with the Drae was terrifying for more reasons than I wanted to consider.

Irrik’s features hardened. “Are you asking me this because I didn’t heat your bath water?”

“No.” Okay, maybe that was a leap.

He clenched his jaw. “The king can’t make me do that anymore, so no.”

I blew out a loud breath. “Thank the Moons for that.”

His eyes flashed to Drae slits before flashing back to human. “Just so we’re clear, I’ve never forced myself on anyone. The women, the mothers of the Druman, were all willing.” He clasped his hands in his lap and dropped his gaze to them.

I swallowed the rest of my questions, not sure if I believed him. The two women I’d seen him in company with had seemed happy for his attention, sure, but I’d also seen what his freaky breath could do to them. I knew what his kiss had done to me.