this climate isn’t suited for growing citrus. How, Emily?”
She shrugged. “I’ve always had an affinity for growing things. It’s natural for me.”
“But not for most Draicon.” He leaned against the wall, folding his arms across his broad chest. Muscles in his biceps bulged. Emily swallowed hard, remembering the feel of his powerful body atop hers, the tensile strength in him, the odd friction caused by the bulge at his crotch. The odd throbbing began again between her legs. She turned her back on him, hunted through a cabinet.
“I also have toaster pastries.”
“What kind?”
Emily opened a cabinet door and fished out a box. Raphael read the label, quirking a dark brow. “Brown sugar. You have a sweet tooth.”
He pulled two pastries from the foil wrapping and placed them into the toaster. While he waited, he rummaged through her refrigerator. Emily leaned against the wall, watching in bemusement.
“Are you looking for something in particular?”
He closed the door. “No fresh meat, no frozen, either. What the hell have you been surviving on these past few months? Certainly not melons and toaster pastries.”
“I get along fine,” she shot back. “Is it your job to criticize my choice of cuisine? What are you, a wolf epicure?”
“It’s my job to ensure you’re eating right.”
“So I’ll be nice and healthy when you execute me?”
The toaster popped up the pastries. Raphael took them and hunted through her cabinet. He removed two china plates and placed a pastry on each one. She fetched two coffee cups and filled them from the coffeemaker.
He carried the plates to the table and put one before each seat. He pulled out a chair for her, waiting for her to sit as she set down the mugs.
Emily sat, staring at the pastry. She disliked these, which was one reason why they still sat in her cabinet. But she broke off a piece and forced herself to slowly chew.
For such a large male, he ate slowly in small bites. When he finished, he wiped his mouth with a paper napkin and sipped his coffee.
“What do you eat, Em?”
She liked the informal nickname. “Whatever I can. Once a week, Urien sends someone to put frozen meat into the storehouse big freezer. It’s in the shed across the drive, where they store winter equipment. I suppose Urien still feels the need to provide for me, but he doesn’t want to risk coming into direct contact and being contaminated. I checked a couple of days ago, but he forgot to stock the freezer.”
“So you’ve subsisted on whatever you had. He’s neglecting his duty to you. He should be caring for you, as a leader cares for all in his pack.” Disapproval rang in his deep voice.
No one had cared for her, not in months. She had functioned fine on her own. Better than to suffer the disdain and averted gazes of what once was her family.
A lump clogged her throat. She swallowed a small sip of coffee past it, keeping her thoughts guarded. “Do you come from a large family?”
“Very large. We all take care of each other and have from the time we were jeune, young.” Raphael studied his empty plate. “I was brought up in a large house in the bayou, with four brothers. I was the youngest, until we adopted Damian. He’s only eighty, twenty-five years younger than me.”
“Adopted? You took in a Draicon not of your own blood?”
His gaze was even. “When he was barely changed, his family was killed in a Morph attack, and we found him hiding in the woods. Damian is a pureblood, of French descent.”
“But you’re mixed blood. Did he have trouble adjusting?”
Raphael regarded her with his intense dark eyes. “No, he was quite happy to lower his standards and live among the lower class of Draicon.”
Emily sensed she’d insulted him. She tilted her head at him and softened her gaze. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I’ve never met anyone like you. What is your family like?”
“My people have an honored, proud lineage. We’re survivors who have fought off all Morph attacks and lost none of our pack to the dark side.”
Curiosity stole over her. Her pack embraced things of the earth and shunned many things that stole away their attention from it. They used electricity and other utilities grudgingly, and Urien had a telephone installed after her father had brought her home as a baby. They clung to traditions many Draicon ignored.
And they had never been attacked by Morphs, not in years. Maybe we haven’t been