Page 44 of Heir

“I need to find some food,” Zandren grumbled, finally prying himself off the floor and standing up. “I’ll be back.” He left out the front door, causing it to rattle the rafters when it slammed shut.

And then there was just me.

I needed food too. That bag of blood last night helped, but I needed actual food now. Preferably something with high iron content so that if Omaera continued to resist mating, at least I’d have some strength. I went to the fridge and opened it up.

Not much to choose from in the way of meat or high-iron veg.

The freezer, on the other hand, yielded a sirloin steak and some frozen spinach. That would work.

I was busy frying up the steak and spinach with some herbs I found in the cupboard when Omaera came out of her room. It was impossible not to stare.

My mate was . . . perfection. Her black skinny jeans had small rips in the knees and she wore a dark gray, very soft-looking, T-shirt with the name of some band I didn’t recognize. It fell off her shoulder on one side and all I wanted to do was sink my fangs into that creamy bit of flesh and hear her moan from the pleasure. Her earrings were little silver spikes that stuck out the same amount—about an inch—at the front and back of her lobe. And she had on the same black tennis shoes as last night.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” she snapped, but very little ire colored her tone.

I chose not to respond.

“What are you cooking?”

I glanced down at the cast iron frying pan. “Food?”

She grunted. “No shit, Sherlock. But why steak and spinach?”

“High in iron. It keeps up my strength.”

“You mean it keeps you from sucking people’s blood?”

Again, I chose not to respond. I didn’t need blood. Food was just fine. It just had to be iron rich. But in circumstances like last night when I was very weak, blood was better.

“Would you like some?” I asked.

“I don’t eat breakfast. I intermittently fast.” She poured herself more coffee.

Shrugging, I turned off the stovetop and moved my frying pan over to the cold element. Then I removed the steak to a cutting board so it could rest. My belly grumbled from the smell.

“Do any of you have cars?” she asked. “Because I don’t.”

“Not that she can’t afford one,” Gemma said, coming out of her room dressed in dark jeans and a red long-sleeve shirt. “She just chooses to walk or use public transit.”

“It’s better for the environment,” Omaera said, sticking her tongue out at her friend. “And let’s not forget that your parents and brother, and my mother, all died in car accidents. So the less we’re in those death traps, the better.”

Gemma’s expression sobered, then she leaned over and kissed Omaera on the cheek. “I know. I didn’t mean to tease.”

“Have a good day at work, Gem,” Omaera’s smile wasn’t real. She was rallying and putting on a brave face for her friend. “Text me on your lunch break.”

Gemma winked and nodded, then she made eye contact with me since I was the only one left in the apartment. “Remember, don’t piss her off.”

“I’m trying very hard not to,” I replied dryly.

Then Gemma was gone, and Omaera and I were all alone.

“Your accent is weird,” she said without hesitation.

“I was born in England and lived there for a long time. The dialects and accents changed over the centuries. I moved around, and each region has its own way of speaking. Then I moved to the States one hundred and twenty years ago to help Howar. So it’s a mix of all the places I’ve lived.”

“Hm,” she huffed, then didn’t say anything else.

“I’m sorry that your mother passed away,” I said, hoping that didn’t cause her to get angry.

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