Page 48 of Blood that Burns
I burst into laughter.
“Well... they are,” her voice pitches. “They’re like wild animals. It’s very disturbing to the staff.”
I’m bent over cackling. This woman might be my new favorite.
“Please, Katina. Show me to the kitchen. I don’t want to overhear that. Ever.”
She links my arm through hers and just like that, we’re fast friends.
“You’re the first person I’ve seen since I got here. Where’s this staff that likes to talk?”
She straightens, pursing her lips. “They’re discreet. You won’t see them unless Julian orders them to interact with you. But don’t worry,” she rushes out. “They are all trustworthy.”
“With the exception of their penchant for gossip?”
She smirks. “Well... if you screech like a howler monkey, they will undoubtedly talk.”
My face scrunches up while my feet work fast to carry me as far away from this hallway as possible.
Katina walks me through the mansion, pointing out various spaces and explaining which room is which. It’s the most I’ve seen of the place since I arrived, and I still feel turned around. The building is massive, with winding halls, closed off wings, and all the trappings that come with a home suited for royalty. When we get to the kitchen, Katina stops.
“This is where I leave you. Law has prepared dinner for just the two of you.”
I chew on my cheek, narrowing my eyes. “Just for us?”
“Yes, well... good luck. I doubt he did all of this to actually eat.” She sucks in her bottom lip and smiles while waggling her eyebrows suggestively.
“I can assure you... we are not Marina and Julian. No need to worry about vacating these halls.”
She shrugs. “Perhaps not yet, but I’m not taking my chances. It’s coming. I know it.”
I scrunch my nose up. “It isn’t.”
“Whatever you say,” she singsongs. “I’m out of here.”
“It isn’t,” I yell at her retreating back, feeling peevish and a tad nervous.
What am I going to find behind these steel doors? The angry, cruel vampire from Seattle, or the Law that makes my heart flutter and stomach flip-flop? Only the latter could convince me to forgo food and become the meal.
Ugh. I’m so damn lame.
I push back my shoulders and prepare to argue because I’m not sure I’m ready for either side of him. Not after the things he said the last time I saw him. I know it was an act, but it doesn’t make it any better.
I take a deep breath and push open the doors. What I find on the other side causes the air to whoosh from my chest. Law’s bent over an industrial-size stove, stirring something in a large pot with one hand and flipping something that looks suspiciously like grilled cheese with the other.
A table is set off to the side with a single candelabra surrounded by flowers in the center, two glasses, and wine chilling on ice.
“You made it,” he says, looking over his shoulder at me.
The smile he wears is reserved and tentative, likely trying to gauge my reaction to his dinner request.
I want to play the part of pissed off or at the very least hurt, because I am hurt, but I decide I’m too tired for games. I won’t pretend the way he acted was all right, but I’m hungry and he’s cooking. I won’t turn away a home-cooked meal at this point.
“Can I help?” I offer.
His features relax and a brilliant smile spreads across his face.
“No. I’ve got this. You take a seat and pour the wine.” He motions with a spatula toward the wine chiller.