Her Billionaire, Her Wolf(27)

“They are probably not the best accompaniment for the wine, but I do love them so.”

Snails. In any other circumstance, the idea of it would have been revolting to Sara. But there, in an old castle next to a fireplace, with the man of whom she had dreamed for months on end, the taste of it was heavenly.

And behind it all, she could hear his words echoing in her mind, every bit as delicious as the escargot.

Open your mouth for me.

Sara hoped he would not ask her what she was thinking of right then. Her honesty would have spoken of nothing to do with French snails and everything to do with what she wanted this gorgeous man to do next to her.

“Besides, as aromatic as it is, this is a dish best eaten by both halves of a couple. Otherwise, one of us might find the other...unpalatable.”

She looked up at him to see him studying her, his head tipped slightly to one side. Strangely, his demeanor was somehow canine and quizzical at once.

“Did you just make a joke?” she asked, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Mmmm...more of an effort at etiquette, Sara,” he replied, while smiling in return.

“I was taught that no matter how famished one might be, it is only proper to await the lady’s pleasure and not drink until she does, nor eat until she does.

“But, I must admit that my hunger is near to overwhelming my better judgement,” he said as he bent down to her.

She felt the soft rasp of a light beard against her cheek as he nuzzled in to her neck. Then, he murmured, “I am starving...”

Moist, warm lips brushed against her own. Ever so lightly, she felt his touch, then it was gone again.

“...for you.”

He came at her hard then, all subtlety cast aside, and Sara did not flinch away. Rather, she answered with a heat that had been building like the very fire that burned so near.

Their tongues danced upon each other as she felt his hand in her hair. His fingers were powerful, yet he only cradled her head as the kiss lingered.

He pulled back from her, his eyes as focused as ever on her own. She read in them a driving desire but also the will to do things in their proper time. His need for her bordered on violence while his self mastery was absolute.

They dined then. It was a simple repast of salad and thinly sliced duck breast. There was some of the most extraordinary bread that Sara had ever tasted, to be followed by a platter of assorted cheeses.

Braze drew her attention to one in particular, saying that it was a local cheese, naming it un brébis d’Aramits, or sheep’s cheese from the village of Aramits. It was typical of the region where the animals were pastured in wild meadows upon the slopes of the Pyrénées mountains as has been done, essentially unchanged to this day, for thousands of years.

The flavor of it was wonderful, then he told her that she had already heard of it.

“Oh? And how is that?” she asked.

“The character of Aramis, from Dumas’ book, the Three Musketeers, was inspired by a real man. His name was Henri d’Aramits and was born in the village of the same name. The others, Isaac de Porthau, who became Porthos, and Armand d’Athos, or Athos, were his cousins and all three were real musketeers in the seventeenth century.”

Sara took another bite of the white cheese, thinking that it reminded her of a very good pecorino, said, “So, in a way, it’s like tasting part of France’s history.”

Braze nodded and replied, “Yes. It is exactly like that.”

Black, local grapes with an astonishing flavor followed for dessert accompanied by flutes of champagne.

Then, together, they moved their chairs to face the fire and it was not by chance that they were close enough to touch.

Braze leaned forward, studying the flames, and placed his elbows on his thighs. Sara marveled at how broad his back was and could just barely make out the dark tattooing through his white shirt. She remembered the promise that she had made to herself while high up in Abraxis Industries headquarters. She had told herself that she would learn every contour of this man’s body and taste for herself the darkness emblazoned upon his skin.

“I asked you what you saw in me, Sara...” he said suddenly and she felt a chill because it was as if he read her thoughts, “...and that was before you knew my name.

“Now that you know I am an Abraxis, tell me what else you know.”

Sara sighed. Thoughts of a strange interview and money from the 1920’s flickered by, but instead, she said, “Not very much, really. I’ve seen you mentioned once in a while on the evening news, but that’s about it.”

There was only silence to answer her. Sara knew she had so much more to learn about the man at her side, but she had come to understand that he was waiting for her to continue.