10. Hungry Bitch

With the elegant little masks covering all of our faces, it is impossible to tell who was who. But the sight of the room when we enter is what finally has me relaxing.

While masks are all in place, it is obvious this is a para-exclusive event. Orcs let down their glamor, and shifters adopt their half-shift forms. Witches and warlocks flick their magick here and there to impress potential bedmates. Unlike in the towns where we live, this place is where we can be free to be ourselves.

For the first time in weeks, I actually feel comfortable. I huff a sigh of relief, even as my stomach clenches a little with anticipation. Of what though? I'm already in the door.

"Aren't you glad I dragged you along with me?" Lexi whispers in my ear.

A tall waiter with glowing yellow eyes and thick forearms offers us a tray, which we happily pluck two flutes from. After giving me a once-over, the waiter winks at me and licks his lips. "Oh yes. Very much yes."

Laughing at my near whimper when the waiter walks away, Lexi does... well, what Lexi does at these types of events and I try very hard not to be offended. "Alright, Ginger Snap. You go chase someone with dangly bits and I'm going to go find a warm pussy to bury myself in for the night. Yell if you need me." She doesn't even give me a chance to respond before she slaps my ass and dives into the crowd of waving bodies on the dance floor. I should be mad at her blatant abandonment, but that's nearly impossible when standing next to a hottie like her makes it hard to catch my own fun for the night.

My stomach growls loudly, and I wince, hoping the ebbing music is enough to cover the sound. However, since this is a room full of paras with super sensitive hearing, I really shouldn't get my hopes up. Though, they all probably tune that kind of thing out so they don't hear all the hungry stomachs.

Or farts. That is when things get really awkward.

"You know, I hear there is a terrific buffet in the other room. Perhaps we should get you something before you begin to eat the guests?" The deep baritone rolls over my shoulder and tickles across my skin, sending shivers down my spine and the sensation makes me close my eyes for a moment. He moves closer to my ear, "Unless that's your preference?" He nips at my ear and I nearly melt into a puddle.

I hold out my hand in offering. "Well then by all means, please show me the way."

He moves to my side in a quick elegant motion. Even with my two-inch heels, he still towers over me by nearly a foot. Granted, being five feet and seven inches is rather short in the para community. Still, the height combined with the sleek suit hugging his fit frame, and the locks of raven hair dusting past his shoulders hits me in all the right places. Then his scent carries to me and my stomach does flips.

When his hand touches mine, it shoots electricity up my arm and I swear it doesn't stop until a tiny zap hits my heavy-beating heart. It's him. But how? Why? What does it all mean?

We move to an adjoining room, and my thoughts all halt as my mouth begins to drool and my eyes nearly pop out of my head. Every food imaginable lies across tables for the guests to pick and choose from. There is even an entire section dedicated to desserts. And in the far corner? A fucking chocolate fountain.

Seriously. I have died and gone to foodie heaven.

The man releases me to offer a glass of wine in exchange for my empty champagne flute. "I apologize for my rudeness. I am Victor."

Smiling, I take the offered drink exchange. "It's lovely to meet you, Victor. I'm Ginger."

When we swap glasses, he brings my free hand to his lips and places a gentle kiss on my knuckles. Ignoring the tingle from his touch, I take a sip of the smoothest malbec I have ever tasted. This place, these people, this wine... this is how I want to live. I want to savor things in life.

With his lips still pressed against my knuckles, he looks up at me from heavy lashes. The gleam in his eye is molten and I nearly spit my drink out. Instead, I manage to swallow it down. Hard.

Oh Gods, Ginger. Don't swoon. Don't you fucking do it.

Victor gives me a wink, as if he knows my thoughts, and leads me to a table along the wall where there is much less of a crowd. I nearly object when he does that gentlemanly thing of helping me sit. Not because I object to the chivalry, but because I'm still fucking starving. Thankfully he seems to read that in my body language as well.

"Please, let me grab you a plate." When I still hesitate a little, he sweetens the pot. "We can even make a wager of it. If I come back with no less than three of your favorite items that are available, you owe me a kiss." He smiles and I try so fucking hard not to melt, or scream about how I would just fucking kiss him now and food be damned.

Sadly my stomach growls again. Louder this time. No doubt in protest to my food-damning thoughts.

"Deal."

He helps me get seated before making a slight bow and heading straight for the tables laden with food. He spares me a quick but assessing glance before efficiently plucking various foods and adding them to a plate.

The whole process leaves part of me wondering if he might just snag a bit of everything so that he wins. The other part of me doesn't care one fucking bit.

I'll take the food, but the plate is optional. If I play my cards right, maybe he will volunteer to be my plate for the evening. That thought has saliva pooling in my mouth.

I take another sip of wine and my stomach grumbles.

Damn, I'm a hungry bitch.