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Garret stood up, a smile on his face. “Zaroc, you’re late.”
“Sorry, Father, I was a little preoccupied.”
“With?”
“Trixie. She’s a little insecure about my bride-to-be.”
“You put her in line, didn’t you?”
“Well, not me, but he had his way with her and it got a little too heated. I’ll miss her.”
Miss her…my God! Thought Donja.
Trembling, though her interest piqued, Donja queried, meeting Zaroc’s gaze. “He? Who are you referring too?”
Zaroc’s smile faded as he flashed his eyes to Garret.
“No one who concerns you, my dear,” Garret said sipping his wine which Donja realized was not wine at all, but blood. Her stomach churned.
“Sit down, son,” Garret beckoned with a disarming smile, “Donja and I were just getting acquainted. Lovely girl.”
Zaroc, stranger that he was, walked directly to Donja with a smile that could easily set you at ease. He leaned down as if they were lovers, turned her face and kissed her, plunging his tongue into her mouth. Donja squirmed and was about to protest, but he pulled away with a smile. She caught his scent.
Sandalwood…just like, Torin.
She fought an onslaught of tears.
“Yes, she is lovely,” Zaroc sighed. He circled the table with fleeting glances which Garret returned.
Watching the obvious ritual unfolding between them, it occurred to Donja that Zaroc was either blatantly insecure, or as terrified of Garret as she was. She studied Zaroc, long dark locks cascading down his back, a hulking man, heavily muscled but his immature mannerism didn’t match. He took a seat directly across from her, tossed his dark hair over his shoulder and glanced at his father with a boyish grin, waiting for approval. He and Garret shared a brief look and as if on cue, Zaroc unfolded his cloth napkin and placed it in his lap.
“Shall we?” Garret said, a fork in one hand, his knife in the other.
Tremulous, Donja watched them for a moment eating and though she wanted to protest, scream, fight, her gut was rumbling. Finally, with hunger overriding emotions, she unfolded her napkin, picked up her fork and dived in, shoveling it down. She chewed aware of their intense scrutiny.
“Where are your manners?” Garret asked softly.
Donja met his gaze while taking another bite.
“You eat like a starving beast?” He scowled offensively.
Donja wiped her lips with her napkin. “Not that you care,” she snapped, “but yes, I’m starving, thanks to…” her words trailed away and she dropped her head wishing she had kept her mouth shut.
“This girl’s a delight,” Garrett chuckled, “I haven’t been this entertained in years. It sounds like we need to apologize,” he chuckled again. “Well son, what do you say to that? Best get down on your knees and beg forgiveness,” he laughed.
“What’s…she, talking about?” Zaroc stammered.
Donja noticed Zaroc was all but cowering, avoiding eye contact with his father.
Garret leaned back in his chair with a glint of humor in his eyes.
“Well lad, I’m waiting. Get to it, handle your woman.”
Zaroc was clearly rattled. He gave Donja a look. “Are you saying they starved you?”
With concern for Frankie once more in her mind, Donja dropped her head.
Keep your mouth shut.