She had no chance to react.
The instant her lips parted in surprise, a slick tongue and a thick liquid, sweet as honey, flowed inside.
Expecting an intense bitterness harsh enough to scorch her stomach, Talia instead widened her eyes at the unexpected taste.
A sweet liquid carrying the fragrance of flowers wrapped softly around her tongue. After she swallowed what had pooled in her mouth, the flesh pressing against the tip of her tongue slowly withdrew.
“So you really skipped dinner after all.”
A reproachful voice brushed against her swollen lips.
Still dazed, Talia stared up at him.
Ever since she had started using medicine as an excuse to beg him for kisses, they had pressed their lips together almost every night, but this was the first time he had kissed her first.
No, to be precise, the second.
Remembering that confusing first night, she flushed red.
Quietly watching her, Varkas brushed the corner of her mouth with his callused thumb.
“Would you like some more?”
The voice, little more than a whisper, sent a spasm through her heart.
Talia sprang away from him as though she had been burned.
“W-What did you feed me?”
At her stammering question, he motioned toward the shelf beside the bed. A small silver kettle and a bowl filled with various fruits sat there.
“A fermented goat's milk drink. Easterners often use it as a substitute for breakfast.”
The plain explanation only further tangled her already confused thoughts.
Meanwhile, he looked perfectly calm, as though feeding someone by mouth was no great matter.
Perhaps it really wasn't.
Just as he had fed her medicine with his own mouth when she stubbornly refused to take it, perhaps he had simply made sure she ate.
Yes. Surely that was all.
Wasn't he a man who had something fundamentally broken inside him? Just as he had devoted himself entirely to Aila's wishes, now he was merely accommodating hers.
Calming herself with difficulty, Talia deliberately adopted a cold expression.
“Who asked you to feed me?”
At her sharp tone, his clear eyes narrowed slightly.
But he showed no signs of offense.
Thoughtfully stroking his chin, Varkas placed a tray in front of her.
“Then eat it yourself.”
With that, he stood and walked toward the window.
Talia watched him wash his face and neck with water from a basin before lowering her eyes to the tray.
A sudden urge to bite off her own tongue seized her.
If she had stubbornly insisted she didn't want to eat, he would have fed her himself.
Ashamed by such pathetic thoughts, she picked up a piece of bread.
It was still warm from the oven. Tearing apart the steaming loaf and pushing small pieces into her mouth, she noticed Varkas returning to the bed after changing into fresh clothes.
“Does the food not suit your taste?”
Seeing the mutilated remains of the bread, he frowned.
After a moment's hesitation, Talia shook her head.
“It's tolerable.”
“Then eat properly. Stop acting as though you've got a grudge against your food.”
His tone was that of someone scolding a difficult child, and Talia raised the corners of her eyes.
She had been about to snap back and ask how she was supposed to know what had been put into it.
But the moment she met his steady gaze, all those thorny words crawled back down her throat.
She didn't want to pick a pointless fight with a man who had returned from fighting all night and made sure she ate before tending to himself.
In the end, Talia picked up a small fried pastry.
Closing her eyes tightly, she took a large bite.
Hot minced meat seasoned with spices filled her mouth.
Suddenly, nausea surged up.
The greasy taste itself wasn't the problem.
It was simply the thought of putting some unknown substance into her mouth that filled her with revulsion.