Lower Your Eyes (A Loki Romance Fanfic)

Chapter Eight: Don't Know Why, I Just Do

I stared down at the pheasant breast, still hot on the plate, and then looked up at the cut-up tomato slices in the Prince's hand.

"I can't, sir," I said, watching as he lifted one and slipped it between his lips.

"Don't tempt me to rescind the offer," he answered plainly, glancing off into the fireplace. "Take it."

I looked back down at the table separating us—myself on one couch, and Prince Loki across the way.

Nearly a day had gone by since he saved me from the Haelstrom, and the palace recovered much more quickly than I'd anticipated. And now, instead of setting me loose at my usual chores, Loki had asked me sit and share his food with him.

Which wasn't terribly unusual at this point—save for the fact that today's meal was particularly...unique.

Along with the great, big elephant in the room that neither of us seemed keen to address. Something we hadn't discussed since yesterday.

The plate was warm in my hands as I set it down onto my lap, salivating against my better judgement. I arched a brow at him, "Forgive me sir, but... do you know what this is?"

"Asgard's finest pheasant," he crooned, tossing one leg over the other as he averted his emerald gaze to me, and lifted another slice to his mouth. "Only three servings are made available per year."

And yet one was served to him casually over lunch because he'd requested it first. "Yes," I said with an inclining grin, loosening my fingers around the plate. "I...can't take it."

"Sure, you can," he said, nodding toward me. "Go on, then."

I looked down at it, and then glanced at the fork and knife. "I—" I paused, unable to find the right words.

Loki arched a brow. "You what?"

Grinning demurely, I glanced up at him. In the past, he'd left portions of his meals for me, but I wasn't accustomed to eating them right in front of him. Was I even supposed to use a fork and a knife for this? Or was I supposed to use my hands—in front of him?

"I don't know how to eat this."

"You don't know how to eat pheasant?"

"I..." I paused again, feeling plumes of heat and color licking across my cheeks. "I've only ever eaten...birds..." I ground out, inwardly cringing at myself. "...with my hands."

He stared for a moment, eyes narrowed observantly, until an amused grin tugged threateningly on the corner of his mouth. "Use your hands then, Aila."

"But it's unsightly."

"You're never unsightly," he answered smoothly—his turn of phrase doing nothing for the redness in my face.

I looked down and tugged at one of the steaming legs, smiling a bit. "Don't tease me."

Loki smirked. "Then don't argue."

Eating was only mildly uncomfortable after that—after Loki went on picking at the other components of the meal, savings bits and pieces here and there for me. And when we were finished, he sat back against the couch and sighed heavily. I swallowed thickly at his increasingly solemn expression and set the plate down when I was done.

"Aila, we need to talk about things," he said.

I let out a heavy breath, readying myself for the inevitable. "I suppose so." I looked up at him—no part of me was ready to have this conversation. "I'm just a little—"

"Tell me only what you feel comfortable with," he interjected.

I blinked surprisedly. "W-What?"