any," I admit.
I've had beer and ale and some harder drinks, but never wine. It's expensive and I've preferred to spend my money on other things. I've never understood people who spend a fortune on food and drinks. They disappear so quickly and in the end, they all end up as mush in my stomach anyway.
"Then it's high time." He hands me a glass so delicate that I'm afraid to break it simply by holding it. "Let me know what you think."
I've seen people do all sorts of weird things when tasting wine, but I simply take a sip and swallow. It's kind of rough against my throat and I'm not sure I like the taste.
"Not bad," I lie. For some reason, I don't want to disappoint him.
"Liar." He chuckles. "Is it too dry?"
"Dry? It's wet."
He snorts with laughter. "Dry wine means that it's sour."
"Oh. Then yes. I imagined it to be sweeter. Grapes are so sweet that I expected wine to be the same."
He pulls another bottle from the crate. I swear I saw only the wine bottle in there earlier. It must have been hidden behind it.
"Here's some grape juice, nice and sweet."
He takes my glass and empties it in one large sip before refilling it with red grape juice. He hands it back to me, even though he's drunk from it. Oh well, I'm not my mother who would tsk and refuse to drink from the same glass.
The juice is a lot better and erases the sour taste of the wine.
"Good?" he asks.
I nod and give him a smile. He returns it, his eyes sparkling with warmth.
We sit in silence, looking out over the mountains. The sun is hidden behind gathering clouds, so I doubt we'll have a sunset tonight, but the dramatic shadows the clouds throw onto the mountains make more than up for that.
I sigh in contentment. When did I last just sit and enjoy the moment?
Chapter 9
Him
I can't stop watching her. Her eyes are fixed on the mountains, giving me the chance to study her in detail. I've never seen a prettier human. Her reddish hair is sleek at the top but twists into curls at the tips. I want to reach out and straighten them, not because they'll look better that way, but because I want to know if her hair is as silky as it looks. Her face is flushed, but her hands are pale. Maybe she's cold. I wish for warmer air and the cold wind immediately stops hitting the balcony. She doesn't seem to notice, thank the Song. I'm so used to simply wishing whatever I want that I forgot humans aren't used to that. I hope she didn't realise that the bottle of grape juice wasn't there before I asked if she wanted some. I have to start thinking ahead, preparing everything before she even realises what she wants.
Spring seems content simply sitting here in silence, but I want to hear her voice again. I want to talk to her, hear her story, find out everything about her. She'll ask questions though, questions I cannot answer. So I stay silent, watching her, soaking in her presence.
I need to figure out a way to keep her from asking questions. I hate lying to her, like I did about the non-existent cook, but telling her the truth would make her run away in an instant. I can't bear the thought of her leaving. I'd rather tell lies every minute of the day if that makes her stay.
The Song rises up around me, telling me it's got a new target in mind. It usually doesn't happen this late in the day. The urge is strong already, I doubt I can wait until morning to listen to its call.
I better do it now before nightfall, so I can spend the night with her. Not in the way I would like. She's not ready for that. As much as I want to take her, make her mine, she's still too wary in my presence. I have to move slow. Woo her, make her trust me, convince her that she doesn't want to leave.
Again, the Song pushes against my mind. I sigh and get up. "I have to leave for a short while, but I'll be back soon. Will you be okay on your own? I'll make us dinner when I return."
"Leave?" She looks at me in surprise. "Where are you going? You said nobody is living nearby."
Doubt and disappointment creep into her eyes. Once