Birthright

A Little Bite...

"Well, hello again, Beautiful! Wonderful to see you again so soon!" He stood and held out his hand to take hers. She smiled as he raised it to his lips and kissed it softly. His lips were soft and warm, but not as warm as she was suddenly feeling. Calm down, woman! "Feeling any better today?" His eyes glittered, and she nodded.

"Much." She withdrew her hand and sat down. "And how are you?" She adjusted her dress as she sat, gods she hated them. Give her a pair of trousers any day.

"Problem love?" He raised an eyebrow as she wriggled. She flushed and laughed.

"An impulse buy. I'm not sure it's really me." She shrugged, and he winked.

"From where I'm sitting, it is definitely you. Very... becoming." He poured them a glass of champagne from the bottle in the bucket next to their table.

"This is a bit..." she raised the flute in response to his 'cheers' toast. Sipping it, it was chilled to perfection. "A bit fancy for lunchtime, don't you think?"

"Absolutely not. This isn't just any lunch. This is OUR lunch." He shook his head as he swallowed his champagne. When she'd walked in, his eye would have been drawn to her even if he hadn't known her. She wore a floaty floral printed dress and biker style jacket. Chunky black ankle boots with delicate silver chains. Hair swept up into a messy bun, tendrils trailing down her neck. All in all, almost irresistible.

"I don't normally do dresses." She felt the need to explain her discomfort. "I'm more of a tomboy..." she flushed a little. He was in for a surprise as to how much THAT was true.

"Well, I'm flattered you decided to wear such a beautiful dress just for me." He winked at her, and she giggled. Actually giggled. What the hell was happening to her?

They ordered lunch, fish for her, and steak for him. As they waited, they chatted amiably. "So, what brings you to London then?" He asked, "You said something about a man you needed to contact. Have you been successful yet?" There was something about him that made it less an interrogation, more a genuine interest.

She nodded. "Yes, yes, I have. It's early days, but I'm hopeful that he'll help." She was telling no lies, just being, how was it put? Economical with the facts.

Tom nodded. "Good. If there's anything I can do. Kidnap, duct tape, handcuffs...." he smiled wickedly, and she laughed.

"I might have known you'd bring handcuffs into it somewhere along the line!" It was Asa's turn to wink. "I have a feeling you're a man who knows his restraints."

Tom leaned forward. "You seem to have the measure of me already, darling. Is there nothing about me that you HAVEN'T sized up?" His voice dropped to a low growl, and his fingers grazed her wrist, making her bite her lip. What WAS it about him?

Her blushes were saved as their meals arrived, and they began to eat.

"So," she put her knife and fork down, taking another sip of the champagne. "Tell me about Tom Torbroder? What does he do when he's not seducing complete strangers in bars?" She grinned and resumed eating.

Tom looked at her. What to say? What, in truth, COULD he say? "We....ll. I'm a Writer. And before you say it, no, it's not pulp fiction. It's historical research." He looked at her intently. "I have a thing for Norse mythology, would you believe." He shrugged and smiled.

She nodded. "Actually, with a name like yours? No surprise at all. Have you always been into Vikings and Longships and helmets with horns on?"

"Now you're teasing me." He said, pretending to be offended. Actually, he was secretly thrilled. No one had ever bothered to ask him what he was interested in.

"Am not!" She countered with a slight huff. "I just know very little about the way Midgardians see Asgard."

There was a silence you could have cut with a knife. A blunt one at that.

"What did you say?" He looked at her, brows furrowed, eyes confused. As soon as she'd used the terms, he had stopped. He'd never come across anyone who could throw them about without making it sound odd. She made it sound like the most natural words in the world

"I...I mean Earth and..."

"No. You don't. You mean Asgard and Midgard. Please, do me the honour of giving me the truth. Are you from the publishers? Trying to hurry my latest offering? I know I'm running late, but I'm just having trouble. Can't seem to concentrate these days. Too many... distractions." He smiled carefully. His jaw clenched, and she could see he was trying to maintain his composure.

"No, Tom. I'm not. I'm simply interested in what you're doing." She smiled disarmingly. Tread carefully Asa, she thought to herself. Don't push too hard, too soon.

"Sorry darling." He smiled and looked down. "My problem is I have no faith in anyone, anything, or even myself. You see, I have no family or friends to fall back on. My backstory is that I have no backstory. Literally nothing. No memories of school, of teenage angst, not even my first kiss. I have nothing prior to 2012." He paused, and she saw a brief flash of the torment he'd lived with all this time. She felt infinitely sorry for him.

"Well, it's not often you get to start again." She said softly, "make new memories. Ones that you choose." Her hand now grasped his. She really meant it. He deserved better. It was up to her to make sure he got it.

"And what if I wanted to choose to make them with you?" He breathed, his eyes boring into hers. "Would you help me?" The restaurant disappeared, the diners around them, disappeared. It was just them. Holding hands. Breathing.

Asa smiled. "I have to go away for a couple of days tomorrow." She murmured in a low, sultry voice. This was in danger of becoming messy.

"I'm suddenly not hungry any more." He growled, and a flame ignited in her stomach.

"Me either." She smiled.

"So, how long have we got?" He asked, signalling for the bill.

"A while." She smiled.