The Elf Who Wants to Eat Pudding (4)

Every instinct I possessed sounded the alarm.

If my emotions had been people, they would all have been screaming the same thing: Bow down to the elf standing in front of you!

But surrendering to instinct had never brought me anything good. I fished a handkerchief from inside my coat and tried to gather my scattered wits.

Think. What did I do wrong?

I needed time. I wiped my mouth as slowly as humanly possible, searching my recent actions for the fatal mistake.

Did she find out I was enjoying myself with Ashley?

If the elf had realized that I had spent the day happily with Ashley instead of quarreling with her, that would explain the situation. Should I insult Ashley immediately and try to soothe her? I finished wiping my mouth, but before I could speak, a thought occurred to me.

Wait.

Something didn't add up. There had been something strange about the elf's greeting when I arrived.

If she was already angry about Ashley, why did she smile so brightly when she saw me in the dining room?

She had come out of the kitchen wearing a dazzling, untroubled smile. There hadn't been the slightest suggestion of concealed rage. Whatever had upset her must have happened after that.

What had changed? I feverishly counted through the possibilities until I arrived at the one thing left on the table.

Did she get angry because I ate the pudding?

Was she really ready to kill me over a single dessert? The idea was absurd. Unfortunately, it was also the most convincing explanation I had.

First, I needed to confirm it. I folded the handkerchief and returned it to my coat, then pointed as calmly as I could at the empty dish.

“By any chance, that pudding over there…”

“Master. There's no pudding over there.”

“...Was the pudding that used to be there meant for someone other than me?”

The elf's eyebrows twitched.

There it was. The pudding really was the problem. She hadn't made it for me, and I'd eaten the whole thing. Of course she was furious.

Was there any way out?

No. Absolutely none.

Unless I could miraculously vomit the pudding back up in its original, perfectly rounded shape, the damage was irreversible.

I had reached the bottom of despair. However hard I thought, only one possible course of action remained: escape.

I pushed my chair back and rose as casually as I could.

“I'll go for a short walk and come back.”

“Master.”

She had no intention of letting me leave. Her red eyes held nothing but anger, and the force of her stare pinned me in place.

“Dinner will be ready soon. Take your walk after you eat.”

“...Then I'll go to my office for a moment.”

“You can work tomorrow. Overworking yourself is bad for your health, isn't it?”

“Yes. That's true.”

My palms were slick with sweat. I desperately searched for one more excuse and caught hold of a last, pitiful hope.

“Ah! I ought to check on the chief chamberlain. He was suffering from a cold. As head of the house, I need to see how he's doing.”

“There's no need to worry. He says he's fully recovered and will return to work tomorrow.”

“Even so, even so! It's only right for a head of household to look in on his chief chamberlain—”

“Sit down.”

My mouth snapped shut. That had sounded very much like a warning against trying her patience again. I sat down obediently.

I'm finished.

What would become of me? Would she drag me off to the Great Forest and make me a slave to the elves? As all manner of terrible futures flashed through my mind, she slowly parted her lips.

“Master. I believe you'll have to punish me severely.”

What an odd thing to say.

“Severe corporal punishment? But you haven't done anything wrong. How could I possibly—”

Crash!

Before I could finish, she dropped the teapot and teacup she was holding. The glassware shattered, tea splashed across the floor, and fragments skittered in every direction.

I stared at the mess in disbelief. The elf, utterly unconcerned, pursed her lips.

“I'm sorry. My hand slipped, and I made the mistake of breaking your teacup. You're a strict master, aren't you? Won't you discipline a poor slave like me properly?”

How in the world could she call that an accident?!

It was outrageous. It was insane. But if I protested, I might actually die.

Calm down. Look at the bright side. She was offering me a way to punish her, rather than killing me or carrying me away to the Great Forest.

The trouble was that, between us, severe punishment meant sexual intercourse. After all her previous demands for sexual torment, it was plain what she wanted.

But I can't do that right now.

Sex would be a test for both of us. If I failed to satisfy her, the elves might decide I had no further use. I didn't want to imagine what followed once they reached that conclusion.

I needed to prepare. Somehow, I had to find a way to satisfy her.

“Ten days.”

Having steadied my breathing, I began to bargain.

“I'll punish you severely in ten days.”

Give me just ten days. By then, I would become a man capable of taking the lead and satisfying her in bed.

The elf considered my proposal. Roughly three seconds passed before the negotiations collapsed.

“Ten days is too long, Master.”

“Then perhaps a week…”

“In a week, I'll have forgotten my mistake.”

Was she talking about her own mistake, or mine? I couldn't tell. With my mouth suddenly dry, I raised my right hand and spread all five fingers in front of her impassive face.

“Five days. In five days, I think I'll be able to punish you properly.”

“Hmm. Five days…”

Crunch.

She stepped across the scattered crockery toward me, apparently heedless of the sharp pieces underfoot. That beautiful, terrifying face came closer. Raising her slender hand, she folded one of my fingers down.

“Four days.”

A mischievous smile spread over her lips.

“I think four days will be quite enough. Don't you agree, Master?”

Ten days had become four. The clock was already bearing down on me, but I had little choice. As long as she was angry, she held all the cards and I held none.

I cursed the butterfly effect of that damned pudding. Still, I'd been the one who ate it. There was nobody else to blame.

“Fine. In four days… I shouldn't find it difficult to take your virginity.”

“Then I'll entrust my chastity to you, Master.”

Her expression softened. The murderous light faded from her eyes; the bargain was settled.

Relief weighed heavily in my chest. I finally let myself lean back in my chair. Just then, the kitchen door opened and the chef emerged, beaming when he saw me.

“My lord! Thank you for waiting.”

He carried two dishes: one of cream pasta, the other of rye bread cut into bite-sized pieces.

“I've just finished preparing everything, and it came out splendidly. I put a great deal of care into it, so please give it a try!”

He set the plates and cutlery before me. Steam still rose from the pasta.

The elf looked down at it, came around the table, and sat beside me.

That was peculiar.

Didn't she usually bring her bowl of dog food and eat the kitchen scraps at my feet?

Today she had no dog bowl. She made no move to lie down by my chair, either. I glanced at her and then turned back to the chef.

“Chef, I appreciate the meal, but why cream pasta all of a sudden?”

“Ah, we had some fresh milk in the cold storage, so I thought I'd try making it.”

“Fresh milk? Did it come from the ranch?”

“Pardon? Weren't you the one who brought it, my lord?”

“Me? What do you mean? I haven't been to the ranch…”

The elf tugged at my sleeve. When I looked at her, she gazed up at me with innocent eyes.

“Master, have you forgotten? You and I went to the ranch. You even did the milking.”

“When we went to the ranch… Ah.”

The realization sent goosebumps racing over my skin.

Don't tell me…

Is that the elf's milk?

How else could the kitchen have obtained fresh milk that the chef hadn't even ordered?

After sending Beynon to escort Bishop Leviham out of the forest, I'd returned to my office to work. When I noticed the bucket was missing, I assumed a servant had cleared it away. I'd been careless. Now it seemed the elf had taken it herself.

And she intended to make me eat cream pasta prepared with her own breast milk?

I was too stunned to speak.

You crazy bitch! Do you seriously expect me to indulge your deranged tastes?!

“Eat, Master.”

“I will.”

There were times in life when a man had to swallow his pride.

I had no desire to anger her again now that she'd finally calmed down. I wound a little pasta around my fork. My eyes were fixed on the food, but I was watching the elf out of the corner of my eye. The intensity with which she studied my face was unsettling.

She wants a reaction.

She probably wanted to know what I thought of pasta made with her milk. It was an appalling hobby, but I could at least give her a few words of praise.

Suppressing my revulsion, I put the pasta in my mouth and chewed. It was soft and richly savory. In truth, it tasted perfectly good. Only the thought of its ingredients turned my stomach.

“How is it?”

I couldn't let my feelings show. I answered with studied composure.

“Not bad.”

“Would you like to keep eating it?”

“I don't think so.”

“You can eat it yourself, if you like,” I added.

That had been my attempt to refuse. I fell silent; she didn't press the matter.

Ten minutes later, I had finished the pasta and cleared my plate. My feelings were decidedly mixed, but I endured them.

“That was a fine meal. Your cooking grows better every day.”

“Thank you, my lord!”

Delighted, the chef collected the empty dishes and returned to the kitchen.

Left alone with me, the elf gave a soft, amused chuckle.

I couldn't tell what she found funny, but she was clearly in a better mood. As I watched, she leaned toward me. Her elegant silver hair spilled over her shoulders, and a faint light glimmered in her red eyes beneath long, neat lashes. The evening sky beyond the window had turned the light on her face a deep blue.

“Master, I really wonder…”

Like a cat toying with its prey, she stroked my thigh.

“How much milk will you give me?”

Her hand moved toward my groin, then stopped. As though nothing had happened, she withdrew it.

“I'm looking forward to it.”

Her coquettish smile might have enchanted any other man. I couldn't bring myself to smile back. In her mouth, those words sounded like a threat.

Yet I couldn't survive by yielding every time she threatened me. I steeled myself, took her chin in my hand, and tipped her face upward.

“You may look forward to it, you insect.”

Our eyes met.

Ashley had been right. I mustn't encourage her.

I would continue to reign over her as the cold-blooded, deranged master she believed me to be.

Let her think whatever she liked.

If that was what it took to protect everything precious to me, then I would do it. Every single time.