LXXXIX

"Out of respect for my mate. I had fine food prepared and we are engaging in conversation, as you stated you desired... and as Dome culture dictates."

Lyla understood at once, this was not just a shared meal. It was Kieran's attempt at another courtship custom—like the foam flowers in her coffee. Pushing her hair behind her ear, her nervous blush deepened.

He exercised the softer expression he saved for the kill. Lyla saw it, and knew at once her assessment was correct. Kieran was, in his way, trying to woo her.

Unsure, Lyla murmured, "This is to relax me." "Yes."

"So I perform better for you?"

He gave her a long look that said yes, no, and a thousand other things. Unsmiling, his head just a tick to the side, Kieran grunted. "You do not appreciate the effort?"

There was definitely a wrong answer, and that was the only one she wanted to blurt out. Biting her tongue, she looked at the shirtless man and said, "You are courting me."

"According to your customs, yes."