He succumbed to the first part of this desire. Kneeling beside the lip of the sleeping pit, he reached in and caught her by the waist.
“Oh! Oh my goodness!” she squeaked as he lifted her and reluctantly sat her down on her feet. He would rather have kept her in his arms, he admitted to himself. But he knew Bobbi wouldn’t like that.
“Sorry—did I frighten you?” he asked. He was kneeling and she was standing but they were still almost eye-to-eye. He liked this position, Dragon decided, it made it easier for him to see her lovely face instead of always looking down.
“N…no. You didn’t scare me.” She put a hand to her chest, as though to still her heart—and also to make certain the fur cover was still wrapped firmly around her. “I just…wasn’t expecting to be picked up like that. And you should be careful—you’re going to hurt your back! I’m not exactly a lightweight, you know.”
Dragon chuckled.
“What do you mean? You’re such a tiny little thing I could carry you all day and not feel it a bit.”
“But—“ she began.
Just then, there was a rapping at the door and Dragon heard a familiar voice calling his name.
“Oh—that’s my mother,” he said, frowning. “Be sure to keep that blanket wrapped around you. I wouldn’t want her to think I’d been breeding you against her orders.”
“No, we certainly wouldn’t want that,” she muttered sarcastically, but he noticed that she pulled the patchwork fur blanket more tightly around herself anyway.
When he was sure she was ready, Dragon went to open the door.
19
Res. Tizlah bustled in, bearing a steaming tray and with several garments draped over one arm.
“Good morning!” she said brightly, her forked tongue flickering as she spoke. “And how was your slumber?”
This question was obviously directed at Bobbi, who smiled brightly at the Saurian woman.
“Oh, just fine! Wonderful, in fact,” she said quickly.
Then she mentally berated herself—why did she keep acting like she was a guest in this house instead of a prisoner—which was what she really was? But she couldn’t seem to help herself—she’d been raised in a proper Southern household with a huge emphasis on good manners. The minute Dragon’s mother spoke to her, she seemed to trigger Bobbi’s politeness reflex.
“I’m so glad to hear it,” Res. Tizlah said. “And I hope my son didn’t try to breed you last night?” she added, arching one scaly eye-ridge at Dragon.
“Uh, no. No, of course not,” Bobbi answered quickly. She could feel the hot blood rushing to her face in a blush and she felt like a guilty teenager denying that she had done anything wrong. “We…we just slept—that’s all,” she said.
“Well, good.” Res. Tizlah nodded in apparent satisfaction. “Now, I’ve brought you some hot gizla porridge and some meat tea for your First Meal. And I’ve got a few garments I think might fit you,” she said, as she sat the tray down and held out her arm to display the clothes draped over it.
“Oh, thank you!” Bobbi exclaimed. “Breakfast, er, First Meal smells delicious!”
“Help yourself.” Res. Tizla handed the tray to Dragon and then pressed a button on the low table in front of the couch. The curving screen sank silently down into the wooden table, leaving a flat surface for the tray to sit on.
Bobbi dug in eagerly—she loved trying new and exotic cuisines. Her foodie tendencies were one reason she was never going to get skinny. Though her weight certainly didn’t seem to be a problem for Dragon—he had lifted her out of the sleeping pit as though she weighed no more than a pillow
She put that thought out of her mind and concentrated on the food. The gizla porridge reminded her a little of rice congee, with little savory bits of roasted meat throughout it and the meat tea was like beef broth. It was a very protein-heavy meal, but she supposed that was to be expected—the Saurians were pretty plainly carnivores, unlike the Orniths, who were strict vegetarians.
I just hope my body can process this much meat after living on a vegetarian diet for so long, she thought as she ate. But hopefully, as long as she took things slowly, she would be all right. And nothing seemed to be disagreeing with her—at least not so far.
“You have a good appetite,” Res. Tizlah said, nodding approvingly.
“You’re an excellent cook,” Bobbi returned, smiling at her. “I always love trying new cuisines—that’s one of my favorite parts of my job as a Cultural Anthropologist.”
This last was directed at Dragon—a little dig to remind him that she had a job and he had taken her from it. But the big Kindred didn’t seem to take the hint. He just took another sip of his own meat tea and rumbled,
“Delicious, Mother Tizlah.”
“Thank you, son.” Res. Tizlah smiled at him and then looked at Bobbi. “Are you finished, dear? Would you like to try on some of the clothing I brought?” she asked.