Of course, the rude prick leaves me hanging, just glaring down at me with an expression that could mean anything. The flecks of meat clinging to his face like stubborn zits do not help my disappointment.
“It would please me more if you ate,” he grumbles, gesturing toward my untouched stone plate. “Honor my offering.”
And to think I thought blowing his mind in the bedroom every night was enough.
“Says you, with half of it stuck on your face,” I tut, standing on tiptoe to swipe at Dracoth’s towering cheek. He just stands like a giant statue while I struggle not to laugh, maintaining an air of feigned annoyance. “Honestly, without me, you’d be wandering around with a bone in your nose, banging rocks together.”
There!
The faintest curl at the corner of his mouth—practically roaring laughter from anyone else. Elation floods through me at the sight.
Ah, sweet victory.
Satisfied, I turn to Sandra, exchanging an uncertain look. Both of us eye the less-than-appetizing meat slabs on our stone plates. I sigh and shrug, picking up a piece of the sizzling monster steak. Sandra mirrors me, and as we each take a tiny, tentativenibble, the corners of our mouths twitch, threatening to break into giggles.
It’s awful. Like biting into overcooked chicken breast—dry, dense, and tasteless, with all the charm of my old stiletto heels. I nearly spit it out but stop myself, glancing at Dracoth looming nearby. His crimson eyes are locked on me, full of expectation.
Is this a test? Does choking down disgusting meat earn you extra points in their honor system?Ugh.What I’d give for an Italian Caprese Panini right now.
“Mmm,” Sandra hums, her voice so fake it could win an Oscar for Worst Acting. “It tastessogood, Dracoth,” she says, her jaw crunching down like she’s chewing gravel. I can’t help grin at her blatant lie.
Dracoth nods, appearing pleased, sending a loathsome pang of jealousy through me.
How can he be so blind?
“Oh, Sandra,” I say sweetly, smirking as I gesture to her plate. “You missed a piece there. Wouldn’t want to waste any of thisdeliciousfood, would you?”
Her eyes snap to mine, wide with betrayal, but I’m already reveling in her misery. She bites down another chunk, her jaw working overtime, and I barely manage to stifle a laugh.
“Thanks, Lexie,” Sandra says through gritted teeth, tone polite, but her face paints a very different picture—a promise of revenge. But I can’t help myself, finding it too amusing as I struggle not to burst into fits of laughter. “But what about you? Why don’t you tell us what you think?”
Shit, the clever bitch!
A nervous giggle squeaks out of me as everyone’s eager gaze falls on me.
“Well... um,” I mutter, picking up another piece that could easily be mistaken for white masonry.
Nope! I can’t do it.
“It’s tough and tastes like a brick,” I blurt out, rounding on Dracoth, daring him to reprimand me for speaking the simple truth. “There, I said it. This stupid Sock-Chair, or whatever it’s called—”
Tastes like a sock too.
“Sneachir,” Sandra corrects, laughing her stupid ginger head off.
“Whatever!” I snap, crossing my arms, my cheeks burning.
Dracoth glares at me like Mr. Judgy Judgerson. But I’m not like Sandra, I’ll always speak my mind. I meet his glare head-on, my stubbornness as unyielding as his bulging muscles.
“Weak human jaws,” he growls low and taunting after a tense and surprisingly alluring stand-off.
I’ll show him weak later, when he’s singing my name like he’s performing at the Opera.
Dracoth breaks the tension, turning his sharp gaze to the farmer, who’s somehow managed to polish off every scrap of his meal.
“Sandra spoke well of you, Celutok,” he rumbles, picking my ears up—every word from my murder husband is as rare as my mother’s affection. “Join the warriors at my side.”
I almost choke.Celutok?He’s the smallest, least intimidating Klendathian I’ve seen yet, and for Dracoth to actuallyoffersomething? He must be desperate.
