Munro (Immortals After Dark #18) by Kresley Cole

            Munro took a seat at the table. “You hide it well, but my Instinct is warning me that your nerves are frayed.”

            How could they not be? Everything was up in the air. Should she hate him for stealing her from her life, or thank him for saving it? Do I count on seeing everyone I love again—or grieve them?

            Even her feelings about Loreans were in flux. In one day, she’d encountered kindness from a voodoo priestess, graciousness from the nymphs, and gentle patience from a random storm demon.

            Her Lykae kidnapper/possible rescuer flirted with her, his charisma at full force.

            What if everything Ren had thought she’d known about immortals was wrong?

            Didn’t mean she wanted to become one. She met Munro’s gaze. “I am unsettled. Dinner with a werewolf will do that to a human. Will Iona wheel in a carcass for the second course?”

            His lips quirked. “I do love a well-seasoned carcass.”

            He was teasing her? “I’m serious. I know little about your species.”

            “Then dine with me and learn more. You might discover we Lykae have a lethal food allergy.”

            “True. Let’s eat.”

            The nymphs had left a bounty: potato bread, salad with honey and cheese, a platter of goulash, and another with grilled steak and vegetables. As Ren ladled selections onto her plate, his gaze followed her every movement.

            Her senses remained heightened around him. The food scents were more sublime. The deep, husky notes of his Highland brogue seemed to caress her skin, even as his attention kept her on edge.

            Munro served himself, then sampled his meal with impeccable table manners. “Mayhap I’m starving, but this is startlingly good.”

            She tasted some of the goulash and went heavy-lidded. “Delicious.” It was spiced with caraway seeds and dressed with the perfect amount of sour cream, just as Vanda made it.

            Now, a hundred years later, the world was so different, but at least Ren’s favorite dish remained the same. What else had endured?

            What hadn’t?

            “Where are your thoughts, lass?”

            “On the passage of time and changes. You told me you’d teach me about this era tomorrow, but what about a few general things? I’ve read books set in the future. I want to know if anything matches up.”

            “Ask away.”

            Questions that had filled her overworked brain scurried as if from an opened door. So she snared a couple of the closest: “Do people live on the moon?”

            “Humans have accomplished landings only. No colonies or anything like that.”

            “Are there female political leaders?” She took a sip of her drink. Ah, plum brandy. Her favorite.

            “More than there were in your time, but no’ nearly enough.”

            She arched her brows. “You think there should be more?”

            “In the Lore, we have a good number of them. They do a fine job. Why would it be different for humans?”

            Why indeed? “Loa said she preferred this time. Do you think I would?”

            She expected him to say, Of course you will because it’s the best!

            He opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to rethink his answer. “I will no’ give you my opinion of this time. How can a Scottish immortal male speculate on what a Transylvanian woman’s experience will be like?”

            As soon as she’d decided he was the most wrongheaded, obstinate Lorean ever born, he would say something that spoke of a fair sensibility.

            “You’re a clever female, Kereny. You’ll form your own opinion.”

            I always do. “I’m curious what Loa’s species is.” The priestess was brimming with powers, yet she feared her fate as one of Dorada’s debtors.

            “Most canna determine it through scent or sight. And a Lykae’s Instinct will come up flummoxed.”