Lara did, despite her claims of being tragically victimized by the restaurant staff, know exactly what to order.
That became obvious the moment the menu appeared.
It was not written on paper. A small black stone tablet rested between them, and when Lara brushed two fingers over its surface, glowing words unfolded upward in the air like golden smoke. Each dish shimmered with a tiny illusion beside it.
Sarisa stared at it with deep interest.
Lara watched her instead of the menu.
"You're not even reading," Sarisa said without looking up.
"I know what I like."
"And what do you like?"
The question left Sarisa before she could soften it, and the moment Lara's mouth curved, she knew she had walked directly into a trap.
Lara leaned back slightly, dark eyes fixed on her with slow, deliberate warmth. "Right now?"
Sarisa's cheeks heated. "Food, Lara."
"Mm." Lara's smile deepened. "Shame."
Sarisa tried to look unimpressed. She failed by at least half.
Lara finally turned toward the glowing menu and began pointing out dishes with the calm confidence of someone who had eaten here enough times to survive staff blackmail.
"That one," she said. "Braised black-horn lamb with smoke-plum sauce. It's rich, but not too heavy. You'll like it."
"You sound certain."
"I'm always certain about you."
Sarisa looked at her.
Lara did not look away.
The restaurant noise seemed to dim around them, or perhaps Sarisa's body simply forgot to listen to anything that was not Lara's voice.
Candlelight flickered over her mate's face, catching the edge of her cheekbone, the curve of her mouth, the faint darkness of the bruise still healing near her jaw.
She looked dangerous and soft at once, which was deeply unfair to everyone trying to behave in public.
Sarisa cleared her throat. "And what else?"
Lara's eyes glimmered with victory, but she let the moment pass.
"Cinderfruit salad with honeyed pepper dressing. Spiced river fish wrapped in ember leaves. The little crescent dumplings with red broth. And for dessert…" She paused, studying Sarisa with such shameless attention that Sarisa felt it like a touch.
"Something sweet."
Sarisa narrowed her eyes. "You're doing this on purpose."
"I recommend the molten chocolate cake."
"Lara."
"Or the rose-cream tart."
"Lara."
"And probably you, if the restaurant allowed that on the menu."
Sarisa choked on her wine.
Lara looked terribly pleased with herself.
Across the room, Marven appeared to see everything and grinned as if personally entertained by their downfall.
Sarisa recovered enough dignity to set her glass down without spilling it and leaned closer across the table.
"If you keep this up," she said softly, "I'm going to make sure you regret it later."
Lara's expression shifted at once.
Not surprise. Not fear.
Interest.
"Oh?" she said, voice dropping lower.
Sarisa held her gaze. "Behave."
Lara leaned in too, until the candle between them flickered from the movement. "I don't think you like me behaving."
Sarisa's breath caught, and Lara smiled as if she had felt it through the mating bond.
Before Sarisa could answer, Marven arrived to take the order, looking far too delighted with his own timing.
"Ready?" he asked.
"No," Sarisa thought.
Lara, traitor that she was, looked perfectly composed. "Yes. We'll take the braised lamb, the cinderfruit salad, river fish in ember leaves, crescent dumplings, extra bread, and the rose-cream tart after."
Marven's eyes flicked between them. "Only one dessert?"
Lara looked at Sarisa. "We'll share."
Sarisa felt that simple word curl through her like warm smoke.
Marven wisely said nothing, though his face suggested he was fighting several comments and losing privately. He vanished toward the kitchen, and Sarisa immediately pointed a finger at Lara.
"You're enjoying this."
"Deeply."
"You are impossible."
"You mated me anyway."
Sarisa tried not to smile. "A moment of weakness."
Lara reached across the table, caught her hand, and turned it palm up. Her thumb traced slow circles there, the touch light enough to be innocent to anyone watching and intimate enough that Sarisa's thoughts frayed at the edges.
"No," Lara said quietly. "A moment of truth."
The teasing softened again.
That was the danger with Lara. She could turn from wicked to sincere so quickly Sarisa never had time to protect herself.
One moment she was making scandalous comments over a menu, and the next she was touching Sarisa's hand like it was something sacred.
The food arrived in waves.
First the salad, bright with slices of orange-red cinderfruit, dark greens, roasted nuts, and a dressing that sparked warmly on the tongue. Sarisa took one bite and widened her eyes despite herself.
Lara looked smug. "Told you."
"It's good."
"I know."
"Do not be unbearable."
"That seems difficult."
Then came the dumplings in red broth, each one delicate and soft, filled with spiced vegetables and something smoky.
Lara picked one up with her chopsticks, blew lightly over it, and held it toward Sarisa.
Sarisa paused. "What are you doing?"
"Feeding you."
"In public?"
Lara's mouth curved. "You're my mate. I'm allowed."
That warmth again, low and possessive without cruelty, entered Sarisa's blood like wine. She leaned forward and accepted the dumpling from Lara's chopsticks, never looking away from her.
Lara's eyes darkened.
"Good?" she asked.
Sarisa swallowed. "Very."
"Careful," Lara murmured. "You're looking at me like dessert came early."
Sarisa pressed her lips together, fighting a smile. "You are dreadful."
"And you're beautiful."
The words came so easily.
Sarisa looked down at her plate, but it was too late. She could feel her own blush and Lara's satisfaction through the bond like a spark traveling down a golden thread.
The lamb was next, tender enough to fall apart beneath the fork, glazed in a dark sweet sauce with a smoky edge.
Lara cut a piece from her own plate and placed it on Sarisa's before Sarisa could protest.
"You ordered the same thing," Sarisa said.
"Mine tastes better."
"That makes no sense."
"It does when I give it to you."
Sarisa stared at her, then laughed softly. "That was terrible."
"It worked."
"It did not."
Lara's gaze dipped to her mouth. "It did."
Sarisa suddenly forgot what argument she had been making.
The river fish came wrapped in glossy ember leaves that steamed when opened, releasing a fragrance of citrus, pepper, and charred herbs.
Lara insisted Sarisa taste it first, watching her reaction with such open attention that Sarisa began to understand something quietly devastating: Lara liked feeding her.
Sarisa accepted another bite from Lara's fork.
Then, because she could be dangerous too, she took a piece of fruit from her own plate and held it out.
Lara leaned in.
Sarisa did not feed it to her immediately. She let it hover near Lara's mouth, smiling when Lara's eyes narrowed.
"You're playing a dangerous game," Lara said.
"I learned from you."
Lara took the fruit slowly, lips brushing Sarisa's fingers.
Sarisa's whole body went still.
Lara's smile after that was pure sin dressed in candlelight.
By the time dessert arrived, Sarisa was not sure whether she was full from the food or from being looked at like that all evening.
The rose-cream tart was delicate and lovely, pale pink filling beneath sugared petals, and Lara fed her the first bite with no pretense now. Sarisa let her.
The sweetness melted over her tongue, floral and soft.
Lara watched her mouth.
"You have a little cream there," Lara said.
Sarisa lifted a napkin.
Lara caught her wrist gently. "Let me."
"Lara," Sarisa whispered, because they were in public and there were staff nearby and at least one of those staff members had already proven dangerously observant.
Lara only leaned closer across the table and brushed her thumb at the corner of Sarisa's mouth. Slow. Careful. Barely anything.
Then she licked the cream from her thumb.
Sarisa's thoughts emptied.
Lara sat back with a calm expression that fooled absolutely no one. "Sweet."
Sarisa took a breath. Then another. "You are going to be the death of me."
"No," Lara said, and the teasing dimmed into something deeper. "I made sure you'll live a very long time."
The mating mark at Sarisa's throat warmed.
She looked at Lara across the table, at the woman who had stolen her from an altar, fed her in hidden kitchens and crowded markets, given her blood and a name older than law.
Around them, the restaurant glowed and hummed, the city shining beyond the glass like a future she had not known how to imagine.
Lara paid despite Marven trying to refuse, though the negotiation nearly became a legal battle. Talia sent them away with a box of sweets "for the beautiful girl who made Lara look less tragic," which made Sarisa laugh so hard she had to lean into Lara's side.
Outside, night had deepened fully.
The capital glittered below them, all gold roads and violet lanterns and airships moving like slow stars.
Lara took Sarisa's hand.
For a moment, neither of them moved. They stood there beneath the restaurant awning, the cool night air touching Sarisa's cheeks, the scent of food and fire and city life around them.
Then Lara looked at her, eyes dark and warm and entirely hers.
"Let's go home now," she said.