Scarred

Chapter 7: Michael Returns

I worked at it and I was able to get a chapter out before heading out of town. Enjoy! :)

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Lucienne was digging some veggies and a container of marinated chicken out of her fridge when she felt something change. Michael's here, her breath hitched. About frickin' time too.

"Welcome back, Michael," she stated calmly before lifting her head from the refrigerator and looking into those glorious eyes of his. "Do you eat? If you do, would you like to join me for dinner?" she asked. She had a guess of what he was, but she had no clue what his dietary needs might be.

"I don't think our last conversation was quite finished before you ran off," she added, not being able to resist the urge to poke at him a little. Okay, maybe I'm enjoying having a little touch of revenge, she thought, trying hard not to laugh at his poleaxed expression.

I don't think he could be more surprised if someone had whacked him on the head with a board, she thought to herself, carefully controlling her facial expression. She continued with her food prep, watching him stand there with his jaw hanging open for several moments. Damn, even standing there catching flies he does things to me, and those suits he wears... I have never wanted anyone so damn much before, she thought to herself while he finally gathered his wits together and shut his mouth.

Seems like he still can't speak though. Guess I must have flustered him a lot more than I realized, she smiled to herself, feeling a sense of accomplishment.

"How about you take a seat for now, while you gather your thoughts," she told him, nodding her head to the same chair he'd used on his last visit. She decided she'd make enough food for both of them, and if he didn't eat, then she'd have the leftovers tomorrow.

He was so silent she half forgot he was there and unconsciously started humming while she cooked. She found the tables turned on her when Michael spoke and she jumped, almost dropping the chicken.

"You have a lovely voice," his golden tones swept through her like a caress, and she barely bit back a moan. "The roughness gives it an edge I find I quite like. It was what drew me into the bar that night," he said, shocking her and quickly moving on before she could reply. "I am afraid I must decline your offer of food, as much as I would wish it to be otherwise. You have divined somewhat correctly that I cannot eat the same items as you. I would, however, be honored to join you at your table as you eat."

"Of course," she replied softly, so caught up in his liquid words she had a hard time speaking. Damn what that man can do with his voice alone. And if his voice does that, what can the rest of him do? She wondered before blushing at the direction of her thoughts.

Now it's my turn to hide my face, she thought to herself with a wry smile. She spent the next several moments turned away from him till the burn in her cheeks went down.

"I assume drink is okay since you had coffee last time," she called over her shoulder, frowning at a sudden thought. "Assuming, you weren't just keeping up appearances? Would you like some wine? It's okay if you don't want any."

"Drink is fine," he answered her, "and wine would be most appreciated, thank you. Would you permit me to pour?" he asked, approaching the bar side of her kitchen peninsula while still keeping his face turned away and shadowed.

"Yes, thank you," she answered, washing her hands and grabbing a pair of glasses. Damn we're both polite, she thought, almost laughing at the way they were speaking to each other. Still, I think it makes us both more relaxed, since it gives us a structure to follow.