Page 78 of Primal Hunger
In the morning when the sun, or whatever passes for light here, rises over the tops of the trees, he heads out into the woods. He returns a short while later with a handful of some kind of plant, shredded greens with flecks of red mixed in, which he promptly sets in a pan over the fire.
After several minutes, a pleasant smell like frying cheese fills the interior of the cabin.
“Here,” he grunts when he realizes I’m awake. “This will help you.”
“What is it?” I wrinkle my nose at the wilted leaves on the makeshift plate, but my stomach grumbles. I’m starving.
“Just eat. There’s no reason for you to question my every move.”
I gulp down a retort. A wall has come between us no matter what has occurred physically.
Syros can hardly stand to look at me as he shoves the plate into my waiting hands and returns to the fire.
He’s distancing himself.
That much is clear.
Like whatever happened last night was the last time, the final experience, and now he wants to sever the connection.
Why does it make me want to cry?
There are no forks for eating utensils here. Once the plant cools enough for me to pick up without burning myself, I pinch off a bit and eat. The texture is similar to kale when it’s sauteed, but the texture is less familiar, a little bitter and salty but delicious. The kind of thing I might devour in an entire sitting if I was snuggled on the couch watching one of my favorite movies.
The image forms in my head, of my living room back at home, the television playingSomething’s Gotta Giveand a bowl of this stuff nestled in my lap. The blanket would be tucked around both of us.
Syros probably won’t fit in the house, as the ceilings are low and his horns would carve grooves in the plaster.
The absurdity of the scene draws laughter out of me.
I’m the one going home, and he’ll stay behind. It’s not like he’ll ever be able to fit in my world, anyway. Not looking the way he does.
People will see him and run screaming, thinking he’s some kind of nightmare fuel made flesh, or worse. They’ll hunt him down. They won’t stop and get to know him the way I have, they won’t talk to him and actually hear his intelligent answers.
Have I even done such a thing?
The first few days of our acquaintance consisted of me running and him catching me, to some very sexy fun times afterward.
My cheeks flush, and I clear my throat before drawing another bite of whatever this is to my lips. “Is this what you eat when you can’t get your fill of humans?” I ask him through a mouthful.
“It suffices, yes, but it isn’t enough to fill me or to satiate my hunger completely.”
See? I tell myself.
There is no way to make this work when I am literally his main food group. The sex isn’t a good enough reason to keep me around.
Syros finishes off the rest of his breakfast while I clean my own plate, neither one of us willing to speak.
A heavy pall has fallen over the room and encapsulates us both. I’m not exactly sure why it sets my teeth on edge. I should be happy because, not only am I on the right track to get back to my world, but Syros has agreed to help me, rather than hinder me.
There is no more growling about how he’s going to keep me forever.
My stomach gives a single, sorrowful flip.
Is that why I’m feeling a little weird about this? I settle back on the furs, adjusting my legs when my muscles start to tingle, my feet going to sleep.
Did I want him to fight a little harder to keep me? I shake my head because that’s absolutely ludicrous. He’s already fought against the Ech attack, and we barely made it out the other side.
I’d still be knocked on my ass or even dead from bleeding out if he hadn’t done whatever magic shit with the plants.
