Sebastian

to their table, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to the elbows in a concession to the warm summer night. His smile of welcome faltered when he looked at Lynnea, and when he turned to Sebastian there was a bleakness in his dark eyes that was too much like Teasers expression back at the cottage.
    Philo was good at assessing his customers, at judging the outcome of a pairing. Which was why the man was dismayed to see him there with a female who was so obviously prey. The kind of female who would get chewed up by the incubi's seductive games and end up throwing herself in a river out of shame or despair.
    It rankled that Philo seemed disappointed in him, almost fearful. The man had no right to judge him . And it was none of Philo's damn business whom he spent the night with.
    He stared at Philo, holding the man's gaze with the force of his will until Philo looked away, uneasy.
    Giving them both a weak smile, Philo said, "Will you be having the Phal—"
    "Your specialty of bread and warm cheese," Sebastian cut in. If his little rabbit knew what "phallic"
    meant, she'd probably run down the street screaming. And that wasn't the way he wanted her to scream.
    "And wine."
    Philo hurried away, ignoring calls from other tables.
    "Wine?" Lynnea said, shaking her head. "I can't. Only… bad women drink liquor."
    Well, wasn't she just little miss prissy prig? He'd change that. Oh, yes. Before he let her go, he was going to change a great many things. "Wine isn't liquor; it's wine. No civilized meal is complete without it."
    She frowned, and as she tried to wrap her mind around that thought, he noticed how exhausted she was.
    Not just dirty and scared, but truly exhausted. If it had been that hard to reach the Den, why had she tried at all?
    Philo returned with a tray. He set a bowl in front of each of them that contained a small wet cloth, placed a dry hand towel beside the bowls, then put two glasses of red wine on the table and left.
    Sebastian felt the tension inside him ease a little. Trust Philo to understand the female ego. The little rabbit wouldn't want to eat with dirty hands, but by providing towels for both of them, he wasn't commenting on Lynnea's appearance.

    Plucking his towel from the bowl, Sebastian rubbed it over his hands, the movement releasing a light citrus scent. Lynnea watched for a moment, then copied him. She folded the towel neatly before putting it back in the bowl.
    Folding his own towel, Sebastian leaned toward her and said, "You've got a smudge on your cheek." In truth, her whole face was dirty, but he wanted a reason to touch her that would seem innocent—to her mind, anyway. As he stroked the towel down her cheek, he had a lot of thoughts about that touch. None of them were innocent.
    With a little coaxing, he got her to take a sip of the wine. By her third sip she didn't need coaxing anymore, and he felt relieved when Philo returned with two small plates, a basket full of chunks of bread, and the bowl of melted cheese. On an empty stomach, it wouldn't take much wine to get his little rabbit thoroughly sloshed, and he wanted her relaxed, not unconscious.
    Sebastian looked at the basket and winced—a perfectly understandable response to seeing anything that was usually penis-shaped cut up into chunks.
    Since she hesitated, he took a chunk of bread and swirled it in the cheese, then nodded for her to do the same. "Careful. The cheese is hot."
    She picked a head out of the basket. Oh, she wouldn't know what it was, wouldn't associate its shape with anything male, but as he watched her swirl the head in the cheese, his pants suddenly felt too tight—
    and his heart gave a hard bump when her tongue darted out to catch the cheese dripping from the end.
    And when she blew on the head to cool the cheese enough to eat, he thought his skin would burst into flames.
    She had no idea what she was doing—and it was killing him.
    "This is good," she said, reaching for another piece.
    He stuffed his own piece of bread and cheese in his mouth to keep from saying something erotic, suggestive, lewd. Desperate.
    How was he supposed to think when his cock was throbbing and his brain couldn't get past how her mouth closed over the bread, how her mouth could close over his—
    Applause from the other tables startled both of them. Lynnea started to turn in her chair to see what people were responding to, but Philo was back, blocking her view as he set a plate on the table.
    "Something to go with the house