Page 23 of D'Vaire or Nothing
“Because I missed our first date. Terribly rude of me. But I called you the minute I figured out how I’d messed up.”
Delaney smiled and kissed Grigori again. “We had a great conversation that night. I probably started falling in love with you right then.”
“I already liked you. From the moment we met, I wanted a life with you.”
To Grigori’s pleasure, Delaney hugged him. “My handsome and loving vampire.”
“Reporting for duty, as always.”
“Want to go lose money on some slot machines?”
Grigori brushed their lips together. “I thought you’d never ask, Delsaurus. But first we must go upstairs and get your dragon. He’s probably still playing dead and must be bored by now. Let’s grab him some candy from the shop and rescue him.”
“Okay,” Delaney said with a chuckle that turned into a kiss.
Chapter 8
Seristyn Gennevios didn’t bother to hide his smile. From the second his feet had crossed the threshold into the King of Clubs restaurant a mere three minutes ago, the host had fussed over the man at Seristyn’s side. There was a flush in Henry Gennevios’s cheeks, and it deepened the rich cobalt blue of his eyes. Despite being a renowned chef, Henry blushed whenever anyone made him the center of attention with compliments.
It was such a good look on Henry that Seristyn made it his mission to smother his mate with sincere odes to his beauty, loving heart, and incredible prowess in the kitchen. Seristyn found him equally impressive in the bedroom but tried to save those comments for private moments.
Mostly.
“Mr. Gennevios, is there a table you prefer?” the host asked, waving his hand toward the busy restaurant.
“Please, put us where it is most convenient,” Henry insisted, grabbing Seristyn’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Of course, please follow me,” the host replied, snatching menus from behind him and scurrying off to the left.
In a black three-piece suit, cornflower blue shirt, and a tie in an elegant floral, Henry led Seristyn through the crowd as they struggled to keep pace with the nervous host. Momentslater, Seristyn settled across the table from the enchanter he loved, and their eyes met.
“The low light in here suits you, Hen.”
“You flatter me,mon chéri. Take a look at the menu; you will find the chef included more than one elven option.”
Elves were biologically forced to eat a diet of mostly fruits and vegetables, and although Seristyn was a hybrid of elf and griffin shifter, he remained unable to digest meat. The excess protein required for him to shift was added as a powder to his meals by the dynamic, talented man with his serious gaze trained on the menu.
Henry had made it his mission to take care of Seristyn from the day they met. Seristyn was grateful to have such a wonderful partner and did his best to lavish Henry with the same level of devotion. It was an easy task; Henry was easy to love and a delight to spoil. Every gift and compliment brought a rush of color to his cheeks—the same way great sex made him flush.
“Is something wrong?”
“What?”
“You have not even glanced at your menu. Are you feeling unwell?” Henry asked, his gaze filling with concern.
“No, I was thinking about how wonderful you are. I guess I forgot that I had to decide what I want to eat before our server arrives.”
As if Seristyn had summoned him, their server walked up to their table. He introduced himself as Ayven and gushed over Henry, who owned nearly a hundred restaurants and had dozens of published cookbooks and several lines of merchandise. While both men were distracted, Seristyn read the elven options on the menu and smiled. They both sounded delicious; Henry had done an excellent job of hiring the chef.
“S’il vous plaît. Please,” Henry said. “It is I who am honored to be invited here this weekend and to be dining in this gorgeous restaurant. Every item on the menu sounds delicious.”
Ayven pulled himself together and asked for their drink order. Henry chose a bottle of wine for the table, and the man scuttled off.
Henry reached up and fiddled with his already perfectly straight tie as he muttered under his breath in French. Since they’d met, Seristyn had become well-versed in Henry’s first language, but the enchanter was speaking too low for him to hear his words.
“Hen? Are you okay?”
“Non. I did not expect such a fuss. It is unnecessary. I have done nothing but hire a well-deserving chef and answer a few questions she had of me.”
