Page 20 of Made

“Awestruck? I kind of like the sound of that. I was going for amazed.” He smiled.

“Why go for amazed when you can be awesome? Aren’t you eating?” she asked.

“I can. Yes. What should I have?”

Ilmr sat back thinking that’s the last question she might’ve expected he’d ask. “You want me to decide what you’ll have for dinner?”

He nodded. “Let’s make it a game.”

“Alright. Last night you seemed to like nuts and citrus fruits.”

Vidar was beyond delighted that she’d paid attention to what he ate. “And?” He wondered if she remembered anything else.

“And. You ate an entire roast chicken. Not a small one either.”

He laughed like a Viking. “You should get a prize. Right. Right. And right.”

“But that doesn’t mean those are your favorite things. It means that’s what was available on my table. I don’t know what you’d eat if you could choose from anything.”

“That’s what makes it a game.” The way his ice eyes sparkled made her vulnerable to anything he named. “Guess.”

She took another sip of wine. “Hmmm. This is good.”

“Are you stalling?”

With a shake of her head, she grinned. “First, French onion soup. Then Flounder Milanese with au gratin potatoes, garnished with Brussels sprouts and slices of sweet tangerines.” It was a wild guess, but she supposed that was the point. When Vidar parted his lips to answer, she waved her hand. “No. Wait. Before you tell me if I’m right, tell me if you’re a picky eater or if you like almost everything.”

“I wouldn’t claim to be a picky eater, but… well. Maybe I am a picky eater.” He ducked his head and smiled in the most endearing and paradoxical way. Paradoxical because who knew demigods could appear shy? “Anyway. Your menu sounds delicious, and I will gobble up every bite I conjure.”

She heard the silent “but” that followed. “Except?”

“Without the Brussels sprouts.”

When Ilmr pulled her focus away from Vidar’s gaze she saw that there was a heavy ramekin of French onion soup sitting at his place. Both soups were steaming, beckoning hungry diners.

She picked up the heavy silver spoon provided and said, “One thing you can say for humans. They’re better at cooking than we are.” She tasted her soup and almost swooned. “Oh, my gods. This is divine. I could eat it every day. And I totally take back what I just said about humans and cooking. They don’t call you gods for nothing. Right?”

“Are you asking me to be around every day to conjure soup for you?” Vidar asked casually as he was playing with the cheese strings topping his soup.

Her eyes flew open, fearing he’d taken that as too forward, too serious, too soon. “Oh. Ah. No. I meant only that the soup is wonderful.”

He caught her gaze, locked her eyes to his, and held the connection hypnotically so that she couldn’t look away no matter how hard she tried. “I’d be happy to be available to make soup anytime you want it.”

Her lashes fluttered of their own volition, not in the manner of flirtation, but in a prelude to fainting. Seeing this, he instantly released her and raised a stem of pure glacier water to her lips. She drank and felt more in control instantly.

Something about the way Ilmr stood abruptly brought both wolves – who’d been happily curled up together in front of the fire - to their feet, alert and ready for whatever had triggered such an event. Wild animals don’t like rapid movement.

“I’m going,” she said.

Vidar stood slowly so as not to cause further alarm. He looked worried. “You’re free to go of course, but please, first tell me what just happened. Was it something I’ve done? Or something I haven’t done?”

“I don’t like feeling like I’m…”

“What?”

“The subject of a compelling spell.”

“Oh.” Vidar looked away. He knew what she was talking about. He took a deep breath, feeling afraid to have lost her before learning how it felt to be completely lost in each other. “Please stay and forgive me. I didn’t know the effect... I promise to not stare into your eyes for too long again.”

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