Page 17 of Collected By the Crow

“I can, but I don’t need it.”

“This game isn’t that hard,” she said through a mouthful of hamburger. “Your turn.”

“Is it easy, or is your strategy lacking?” Qadaire said with a lilt. Okay, so he was enjoying himself. It had been a long time since he’d played against someone who had the ability to read the rules and move the pieces. Not a particularly challenging feat. “I hope you aren’t a sore loser.”

“Cocky, are we?”

His cock twitched at its name. He simmered it down with a reminder that the term had nothing to do with it, but his ego, which would be bruised if he lost the first real game he’d played in centuries to a human.

He placed his piece, earning a tsk tsk from Cassandra. She easily discarded his move and surpassed him.

“How in the nine rings?”

“Hmm, what was that about shitty strategies?”

Qadaire growled. He made his move and leaned his chin on his tented upper hands while the lowers gripped the sides of the table. When she played next, he saw his opening.

“What? What are you grinning at?” she asked as she balled up her trash and shoved it into the brown sack.

“Your move.”

She made her move.

“Your beginner’s luck has ended, my human friend.” He took the jewel and leaned back, crossing his upper arms and placing his lowers on his hips. “Who’s the sore loser now?”

“Still you. You’re even a sore winner!” She stuck out her tongue. Fuck, she would be the death of him!

Zero sneezed. Cassandra’s face fell and she stood to clear the table.

“I’ve got this.” Qadaire placed a hand over hers while the rest started to stack and fold the pieces. She turned her palm up and gave his a squeeze, a slight gesture that made the feathers on his arm ripple.

“Thanks. I’m gonna refill his food and water, then I’ll head to the lab. Meet you there?”

Qadaire nodded. The pup followed Cassandra out of the room, which shrank without her presence.

Chapter Ten

Cassandra

Not unexpectedly, the samples needed more care. Cass sighed.

“Shall we play another game?” asked Qadaire, his posture tense as ever.

“Can we play some music, too? It’s so damn quiet in here.” No wonder he was always talking to himself in this angry red silence. She swiped her phone from her bag and pulled up her music library.

“Of course. I have all of the greatest.”

“Really? There’s a speaker around here somewhere?” She scanned the room, ready to plug into the aux.

“Do you prefer Bach or Vivaldi? Monteverdi?”

Cass gaped at him. It had to be another poorly delivered joke, but he was stone-faced, serious. Each moment she didn’t respond had more confusion clouding his chiseled features. She laughed, a snicker at first, but it quickly built until she caught the hiccups.

“Dude, no,” she said on the end of a hiccup. “Oh boy, have I got so much to show you!”

The frown holding his features hostage transmuted into reluctant interest. She took that as a good sign. It was proving difficult to shatter his whole ancient vampire vibe, so any glimpse of his humanity—though that probably wasn’t the right word—was a win.

“Everyone knows music went downhill after the Baroque era?” His tone was definite, but the high note at the end belied his curiosity.

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