Sacrificed to the Sea - Cari Silverwood Page 0,10
my studies.”
“Oh.” Sand crunched underfoot, sticking to her feet. She stopped and lifted a sand-crusted foot. “Ew.”
The one thing, well, one of the things she did not like about land life – things clung to you.
Wolfgang chuckled, squeezed her hand. “Come. You can wash that off, and I have a gown you can wear.”
Beside the pool, a path of square, orange-brown paving stones led to the back door of the house.
She had her feet washed under a tap just before they reached the door.
Wolfgang squatted and helped to encourage the sand to wash away by tipping the water over the right places. It felt good to be cared for like this.
She bit her lower lip, surprised, as she often was on this land day, by the lack of sharp points on her teeth.
“Thank you.”
“No trouble. Such pretty feet.” She blushed as he rose. He drew her to the door, opened it. “Come. I ordered takeout. It’s food from a restaurant in town.”
The scents were amazing, and she lifted her head to sniff. Real people food. Spices. And on plates, she supposed.
“Mmm. I haven’t eaten for days. I was worried.”
“Why?”
“Ummm.” When she turned to him, she caught him looking at her nude body, his focus cruising lower to the join of her legs where the female part of her existed. As before, she’d grown a triangle of light red hair.
In his hand was a white, slithery gown he’d fetched from a table by the entrance, and also a towel.
A smile broke onto his lips. “I apologize, but you entrance me, at times.” The smile was that mysterious one she’d seen before.
A second before, his expression had been different. Unused to deciphering human faces, she wasn’t sure what it meant. It was not simply lust.
She must relearn this. Body language. If she hadn’t listened to humans as avidly as she had, she would be totally lost.
“Put that on, then let’s eat.”
He helped her to dry herself, then to lower the gown over her head. It slipped over her body, falling into place on her breasts and other curves.
“Beautiful.” Wolfgang urged her forward with his hand at the small of her back, above where her rear swelled. Funny, how that placing of his hand stirred warmth, desire.
Desire was much of the purpose of this night.
When they were seated at a table made of rich, brown timber, with chairs of what seemed to be glass, he began doling out food from several boxes of white paper. Plates, yes, those were here, and metal things to spear the food. The smell made her stomach rumble.
“I thought tonight we could have an intimate meal. The town has loads of cafés and restaurants but those we can try another day.” His smile came and went. “Now, what are you worried about? I can guess.”
Raffaela blinked. Sitting at a table, on a hard chair, sitting still, without water on her skin, it felt so very wrong. As if someone had frozen her in mud. Stifling.
His question, though.
“I am afraid this will not work.”
He poured something red into a goblet. Wine, she reminded herself. Though she’d never drunk from anything so fine. The goblet was a piece of glass perfection.
“That making love to me will not cause you to become human, permanently?” He finished pouring into the glass in front of her, placed the bottle on the table.
Bluntly said. “Yes.” That had reawakened her anxiety.
“Don’t. What will be will be. Fate will decide this.”
Truth. She inhaled deeply. “And if this fails?”
“Then you return to the sea, and we think on this some more. There might be a trick to it?”
She nodded. Would she go back to the sea? The change always gave her forewarning, and she had intended to stay here, to die. Now? It seemed ridiculous to lose all hope when Wolfgang believed in her.
“Let’s eat. I’ll bet you’ve not had wine for…” His eyebrow crooked upward. “Centuries.”
She smirked. “A woman should not reveal her age.”
“Ahhh.” He raised his own glass that sloshed with a clear wine. “To becoming human.”
She lifted hers. “To being human.” Her first sip had her grimacing. So tart a taste.
He laughed at her and picked up a knife and fork, indicated the food. “Can you use these? If not, fingers are okay. It should be cool enough.”
“I think I can do this.” She frowned at the hard feel of the metal as she turned a fork in her hand, then she poked her food.
The food was delicious. The wine fogged her mind somewhat,