“Are you just going to quote arbitrary rules to me all lunchtime?” He glanced at the position of the sun. Supernaturals didn’t do well with modern technology. Their aura tended to make things like computers and phones go awry. Bells rang in the clock towers to keep time. Or you could buy a heavily magicked analogue watch from the stores in the supernatural towns. “If I promise not to hurt you, can we eat?”
“I told you this is my food!” My leg was cramping. I had to sit down. He snatched the containers away as soon as I was in reaching distance. “Max!”
He had the hummus container open already. Making a face, he shoved it aside. “I can tell you’re an only child,” he said.
“That’s got nothing to do with it! Why don’t you get your own food? There are mountains of it in the dining hall!”
“I don’t want that food.” He found the stew. And then the cutlery. The steam coming out of my ears was extinguished when he offered me the fork and the container. I froze. No shifter ate before the alpha. Granted we were on murky ground at the moment. It still didn’t change the fact that by offering me the first bite, he was conceding something. I didn’t move. All of my senses were hyper-aware of him looming just steps away.
“Can you eat so I can eat?” he said.
“What the heck is happening here?” I wailed.
He smiled. “You think way too much.”
I thought about smacking him across the head with a piece of flatbread. He nudged my hand with the fork. When I continued to imitate stone, he pressed the fork into my hand and moved it so the fork speared a chunk of lamb. I tried to wrestle away.
He made a frustrated grunting sound. “I’m starving.”
“Go away.”
“Not happening.”
“Why?”
His eyes skimmed over the containers with unabashed longing. “Because your food is just about the best I’ve ever tasted.”
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll poison you for real?”
He actually laughed. “I’ve got more chance of being poisoned by my brother than by you. Eat.”
I bristled. “Are you worried about the other kids –” He stuck the fork in my mouth. I sputtered as the savoury taste of meat gravy hit my tongue. Satisfied that I’d taken the first bite, Max used the spoon meant for the hummus to shovel stew into his mouth.
“Mmmm.”
I tried to chew frantically so I could say something contrary but the look of sheer bliss on his face had me pausing. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to share if he really did like the food. I broke off a piece of flatbread and dipped it into the hummus.
“Salad?” I asked, pushing the small container at him. Max’s top lip curled. I yanked the lamb away from him. “No more meat until you eat something green.”
He glared at me in disbelief. “I’m not kidding.”
“You certainly are.”
“I’m the host and I say you’re going to eat some salad.”
Ha! That got him. At home, the wolves ate anything put in front of them. In their culture, it was offensive to turn down a meal. Max’s face twitched. He picked up a single piece of thinly sliced cucumber. “Try again,” I pressed.
“Urgh!” he grumbled, taking the container from me. “You’re worse than my mother.”
He made a face as he chewed on the greens but we were both surprised when he took another mouthful. “What’s in the dressing?”
“Pomegranate and lemon.”
“Not bad.” If he was trying to suck up, it was working. By the time the bell rang, I was no less wary but the edge of distrust was blurring a little.
“Same time tomorrow?” he asked.
“I’m not cooking for you every day, Max.”
“Why not?”
I gave him a pointed look. “For one, I don’t have that kind of time.”
“Yeah you do, you don’t have any friends.”
Coming from anybody else, that statement would have made me shrivel. But he just stated it like it was something mundane. He didn’t dwell on it like it mattered either. “Not my problem if the kids your age are stupid. See you tomorrow.”
It only occurred to me after he’d waved and left that he’d ditched his friends to hang out with me. Shifters roamed in packs. Eating alone through choice was unheard of. I didn’t even want to think about what it meant. As if my life wasn’t complicated enough.
11
Half of me was still in doubt about Max really showing up the next day. I was sure it was some kind of practical joke. Or a dare. Or maybe he was slowly lulling me into complacency so he could get his revenge.
But when I turned the corner around the fig trees, he was lying on a picnic blanket with a baseball cap over his face. He had to have run to get here before me. I thought maybe he really was asleep. Until I drew closer and he reached up to take the cap off.
“Didn’t you sleep?” I asked, a feeling of unease in my gut. Some of the kids in my Arcane Magic class hadn’t been there this morning. They arrived halfway through citing extreme fatigue. I’d slept fine but woke up feeling as though I’d been fighting a battle in my sleep. My hair showed signs of extreme tossing and turning. It was why I was wearing my grey wig tied into a long ponytail.
“What makes you think that? I was just killing time because your little legs walk so slowly.” I let my gaze slide over him. The two bear shifters in class this morning sported bloodshot eyes that they could barely keep open. Max’s were as alert as always. His attention was on the containers I had in my hands. I passed them over. He wasted no time opening up the containers of fried chicken, coleslaw, grilled corn and salsa.
The mention of lack of sleep made me pensive. That feeling of being unable to grasp at something important overwhelmed
