Page 21 of Taming of a Wolf

Jamie gawks at me. “You gotta be kidding.”

“There are no children here, Jamie. Now, tell me how to make sense of this.”

Jamie rubs his eyes. “I’m too tired for this…”

“H-hello.” The timid man from a few minutes ago jumps when I glare at him. “Can I get you started with anything?”

“I’ll have some coffee, milk on the side, and banana pancakes with a side of sausage and scrambled eggs, please,” Jamie says. “Also, some chocolate chip pancakes to go, please.”

“And you, sir?” The man inches away from my glare. “What would you like to eat?”

Since I still have no idea what the menu says, I say, “Boar stew and a mug of mead. Some bacon as well.”

“I… I’m sorry?”

Jamie hides his face in his hands for some reason.

“What are you sorry for?” I snap. “I told you what I want. Now, get it.” If he were my thrall, I’d have him flogged for making me repeat myself.

“Anders,” Jamie hisses.

“W-we have pancakes, oatmeal, granola…”

I don’t know what any of those things are.

“He’ll have what I’m having! But with bacon instead of sausage,” Jamie chimes in, grinning a wide, fake smile.

“I will not—” But he kicks me beneath the table, and I’m shocked into silence.

The man leaves us alone. Jamie slumps, sighing.

“Did you just kick me?” I growl at him.

“Someone had to.”

“I should take you over my knee.”

He bobs his eyebrows. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, puppy dog. Anders, you need to understand that nothing here is like what you’re used to. Otherwise, you’ll stick out, and this world is nasty to people who stick out.”

“If you’d just give me your damn necklace, I wouldn’t have to worry about fitting in,” I grumble at him.

Hurt sours Jamie’s scent. “Just because we had a good time doesn’t mean you’ve earned my grandma’s necklace yet.”

Suddenly, I wish I could swallow my words. I didn’t mean to hurt him. I never want to hurt him, in fact. “I… I feel comfortable with you,” I say, focusing on tearing the paper napkin into strips to give myself something to do. “But everything else is…”

“Different, right?” Beneath the table, Jamie runs his foot up and down my ankle. His touch soothes me, at least a little.

I nod, grinding my teeth. Shame burns my neck from admitting such a weakness.

“Okay. I get that.”

I jump when our waiter arrives with steaming mugs in hand. The scent is bitter and makes me recoil. Whatever drink this is, it’s served with a side of milk and some packets. I tear open the packets and pour something white and granular into my palm. It smells good, so I lick it, humming in delight at the sweetness. “This is delicious. What is it?”

“Sugar. You had it last night in the drink I made you.” Jamie smiles, watching me. “You’re like an angry toddler.”

“What is all this? How do I drink it?”

“You can take it as is, or you can add milk, sugar, whatever you like,” Jamie says.

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