Her irritation at being yanked around like a misbehaving child faded as the ever-present guilt returned.
Because of her demon powers they both carried the mating mark. And Roke was instinctively forced to fulfill his role as her own personal champion.
She heaved a rueful sigh. “Even from myself?”
“Especially from yourself,” he dryly agreed.
“Fine.” She waved a hand toward the kitchen. “I don’t think Levet could have eaten all the food.”
He gave a bark of laughter. “Clearly you underestimate the appetites of the stunted creature.”
She was struck by a sudden thought. “Yannah insisted that we bring extra. Do you think she knew Levet was coming?”
“More than likely. She’s a strange demon.” He grimaced, giving her hand a gentle tug as he steered her toward a nearby chair. “Sit and I’ll serve you.”
She sank onto the worn cushion, telling herself that it was easier to give in to the stubborn man than to continue a worthless fight. But deep in her heart she knew that wasn’t the entire reason for her capitulation.
The truth was that she was hungry.
Ravenous.
For the first time in three weeks her mouth was watering and her stomach growling at the mention of food.
Crap. Was Roke right?
Was she one of those demons who couldn’t physically tolerate being away from their mates?
No. She shook her head in fierce denial.
Not even her luck was that crappy.
Was it?
Refusing to contemplate the hideous thought, Sally pretended she didn’t notice the satisfaction on Roke’s face when he returned to the room and she nearly snatched the plate loaded with shepherd’s pie and apple pie from his hand.
Instead she polished off the mound of food while he efficiently added logs to the fire she’d started when she’d first arrived at the cabin.
Setting aside the empty plate, Sally covertly watched as Roke straightened and wiped his hands on his jeans.
As always his dark, brooding beauty was like a punch to her gut.
The clean, perfect lines of his male profile.
The rich luster of his dark hair.
The sculpted hardness of his body.
“What about you?” she asked before she could halt the words.
Turning, he studied her with his piercing silver gaze. “I have no craving for apple pie.”
The air prickled with the smoldering awareness that never truly went away.
“If you need to feed—”
“Are you offering?” he overrode her words, his voice rough.
A shudder of eagerness shook her body at the thought of his fangs sinking deep into her flesh, her blood heating as if preparing to feed her mate.