Page 13 of Shifting Desire
I find a note under my apartment door when I get home, alone.
Don’t cook.
I’m sending something over.
You forgot to eat during your shift again.
–M.
I stare at it for a long time.I should be irritated.I should crumble it and throw it in the trash, or at the very least pretend it doesn’t make my chest tighten.
But goddess help me, I smile.
Half an hour later, there’s a knock at my door.I expect to find a delivery guy with the food he promised.Instead, I get him.
Malichai stands in front of my door with a paper bag and a crooked smirk.
“No suit?”I ask, eyeing the dark jeans, black t-shirt, and leather jacket he’s wearing.Somehow, the casual look makes him even more dangerous.
He lifts the bag.“Thought I’d try something different.”
“For once.”
“I’m a slow learner.”His voice is softer than usual.“But I do learn.”
I open the door wider, silently inviting him in.
“I got Thai,” he says, setting the bag on the kitchen counter.“From that place you like on 9th.Extra spicy.”
I blink.“How did you...”It’s my absolute favorite and I would eat this every day for the rest of my life.
“I pay attention.”He doesn’t elaborate.Just starts unpacking the containers on my kitchen counter, as if this is normal.As if he does this all the time.But we don’t do this.
I don’t do this.I don’t let people in.I don’t let men feed me.I definitely don’t let rich, dangerous dragon lords stand in my kitchen like they belong there.
And yet ...here he is.He hands me a fork.
“I can’t be bought with food,” I warn.
“I’m not trying to buy you.”
“Then what are you doing?”I want to know.I want him to answer me honestly.
He leans against the counter and meets my eyes with no games in his expression.Just quiet, simmering truth.
“I’m showing you I see you.That I’ve always seen you.And I’m wooing you, or trying at least.”
Something in my chest gives a little lurch.
We eat in near silence.He doesn’t push.Doesn’t touch me.Just sits at my kitchen counter with his long legs awkwardly folded, eating pad Thai like a man who’s spent centuries pretending he doesn’t get lonely.
I watch him because I can’t help it.
And for the first time ...I see it.The cracks in the armor.The softness in the shadows.The loneliness in his laugh.By the time he stands to leave, my hands are sweating and my heart’s beating too fast.
He lingers at the door.
“Thank you,” I say, unsure what else to offer.
