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, but soon after they finished eating, he led her to a bedroom. The luxuries humans possessed now, and so casually, it was stunning. No dirt, no bugs, everything clean.
Without further talking, he took the necklace from her neck and placed it aside, then drew her dress upward to her waist and pushed her to the bed. She was aware enough to know his seduction was as workmanlike as that of men who had bought her in the past. They had humped her against walls in alleys, then they went home again, or they had gone back to drinking. Pay her and move on.
This economy in his seduction surprised her but she felt too sleepy to worry. Protesting would be silly.
When he was finished, he withdrew from her, left the room, then returned a few minutes later. He switched off the miraculous light on the ceiling and lay with her in the bed.
That he didn’t quite lie down was odd. The love-making had been so rough she’d hurt at times. She should talk to him.
But…
Her eyelids were heavy, her yawns frequent, and the room was gradually blurring.
This bed was terribly soft. What if I don’t feel the change?
The worry roused her for a moment, but it was not enough to truly stir her. Sleep came with little warning.
She woke to something shifting, to her body moving, then drifted back to sleep. Too tired. Too dark and heavy.
She woke again, and her eyes refused to focus. Had she become a sloth
