Sentinel - Cyndi Friberg Page 0,5
of root vegetables and a thick reddish-orange sauce with a pleasant fragrance. Salvo took a tentative bite, then closed his eyes and moaned. “Incredible. How do you do this over and over?”
Encouraged by the praise, Natalie took a bite and analyzed the flavors. As she’d hoped, the finished dish was slightly sweet with a smoldering heat that amplified the rich flavor.
“I’m considered a picky eater,” Jaron told her, “but I’ve enjoyed everything you cook.”
Natalie smiled, her cheeks warming all over again. “Obviously, I’m not afraid to experiment.”
“That’s important,” Mirra agreed, “but it must be more than that. I used to experiment with ingredients too and none of my dishes came out tasting like this. Who taught you how to cook?”
“My parents. My mom is Hispanic and my dad is Italian, so food is part of every celebration and family gathering. They taught me about flavor profiles and the importance of quality ingredients, then introduced me to recipes that have been in our family for generations. I’ve been cooking since I was five years old.”
“Kara mentioned that your parents own a restaurant,” Jaron said. “Does it serve Mexican or Italian food?”
“Both,” she told him proudly. “It has one large dining room, but two menus. They keep both menus simple, offering only a few entrees that they know how to make extremely well. The concept is unique enough that the restaurant became really popular.”
“Well, if their cooking is as good as yours, I can see why,” Mirra concluded then took another bite of stew. “Is this meatless like the other dish you made for me?”
Natalie stopped with her spoon halfway to her mouth, surprised by the question. “Kara told me that the Sarronti are all vegetarians. Is that not true?”
“Who told her that?” Jaron wanted to know as he spooned another serving into his bowl.
“I’m not sure. Maybe Lady Eza. Malik and Kage spend a lot of time together, so Kara and Lady Eza have become good friends.” Lady Eza, one of the few Ayrontu who supported the rebellion, had been instrumental in forming the alliance between the Outcasts and the Shadowborn Rebellion. Her efforts resulted in a personal relationship as well. She was now bonded with Kage Razel, leader of the Outcasts. The alliance was responsible for the friendship between Kage and Malik as well.
“That explains the misconception,” Mirra muttered. “The Ayrontu eat whatever they want because they have continual access to food replication and hydroponics gardens. They can afford to be sanctimonious because they’ve never gone without. The rest of us eat whatever is available, which means we are sometimes required to hunt.”
“It’s not just the elite,” Salvo pointed out. “Anyone who lives in the capital has more options than those in the other villages. Ghost City included.” Salvo looked at Natalie and a strange, tingling awareness arced between them.
She suddenly found it hard to breathe and restlessness made her fidget. Her pulse took off and her mouth went dry as if she’d just been given a shot of adrenaline. “Would you like more?” Needing something to do with her hands, she stirred the stew. “You still look hungry.”
“Famished,” he growled as he passed her his bowl, but the smoldering heat in his gaze told her he was thinking of a different sort of hunger.
“Do we need to leave you two alone for a while?” Jaron chuckled.
Annoyed by Jaron’s intrusion, Natalie whipped her head toward him as she asked, “What’s a skinwalker?”
He tensed, eyes narrowing dangerously. “I thought that one slipped by you.”
“Are you some sort of shapeshifter?” she persisted. She’d read Navajo legends about skinwalkers. According to the myths, skinwalkers were witches capable of taking on the form of animals, often by draping themselves in the animal’s skin.
Mirra came to her son’s rescue, providing an excuse that sounded rehearsed. “Skinwalker is the codename for a device that allows an operative to take on the likeness of someone else. It’s a high-tech mask that moves with the features of whoever is wearing it. It’s very convincing.”
“Really?” Natalie wasn’t convinced. She’d asked Jaron about his abilities before. He always refused to answer or smoothly changed the subject. “I’d love to see a demonstration.”
“Not possible. It’s highly secret military tech,” Jaron told her. “You shouldn’t even know it exists.”
“I see. Sorry I crossed the line.” Jaron flashed his most charming smile, but she wasn’t buying that either. He was handsome and he knew it. More specifically, he knew how to use it.
“Don’t be like that,” he coaxed. “We didn’t make you leave