Page 20 of A Hint of Darkness

“I love your office,” I said, making a huge assumption since the spacious room, except for the desk, didn’t look like a typical office.

Pleased, he headed to a narrow, free-standing range in the kitchen nook. He added water to the gooseneck kettle.

“Relax and make yourself at home.”

I headed for the chaise and settled back on it.

Within minutes of the kettle whistling, the aroma of chamomile and something I couldn’t quite identify hit my senses. Inhaling the scent didn’t make the incident from earlier disappear, but it was a comforting distraction. I crossed my legs, giving him room to sit on the end of the chaise, and extended my hand to the area, inviting him to join me. He was human, or human passing. It didn’t matter. It was comforting. He was comforting. Hesitating, he studied my face before taking the seat.

“Thank you so much…” My words trailed as I waited for a name.

“Jasper,” he provided.

“Thank you, Jasper. I’m—”

“Luna,” he interjected. “You have been quite the talk as of late.”

That was surprising to hear since my interaction with people was limited. “Really?”

“Maybe not the talk.” He shrugged. “But you’ve piqued everyone’s curiosity. No one knows why you’re here. You don’t seem to have a job here and Dominic has never brought a…” He searched for the right word. “Paramour here.”

I applaud your search, Jasper, but that’s definitely not the right word. That description made a relationship seem benevolent and simplistic and the opposite of what existed between Dominic and me.

“How long have you been here?” I asked, not ready to discuss Dominic, his violent family, or his paramours—or people he enjoyed fucking and betraying, if Helena’s accounts were to be believed.

“Eight years. I’ve been here the longest. Usually, people stay a year or two. Chefs tend to stay a little longer, three to five years.” He shrugged. “I’m not sure why.”

“And the librarian stays the longest,” I teased.

“It was what I did before I accepted the invitation to come here. It’s easy and I’m surrounded by books. It’s a good existence.” He said it with a smile, but sadness crept into his voice and I debated whether to press for more information.

“You prefer being somewhere different?”

The pensive smile he worked at was achieved with a great deal of effort. “I prefer living in a place where there aren’t any reminders of loss,” he admitted. For a stretch of time, he was silent as we drank our tea. “My partner. He and I had many great years together, and when he died, it was a hollow existence. Here I have no reminder and I stay relatively busy.”

How, I wondered.

He leaned in with a conspiratorial look. “I’ve never been in the other room.” I figured he was referring to the magic room. “I spend a great deal of time trying to trick it into granting me entrance.”

My laughter lifted the somber heaviness that had drifted into the room and made him grin. I wanted to keep that grin there and him far from the morose mood I’d glimpsed when he spoke of his partner. I directed my attention to the cabinets where he’d taken out the tea. “This isn’t just chamomile, is it?”

His face brightened. “My special blend.” He escorted me to the cabinet and opened it to reveal canisters of various labeled herbal teas and blends. His love for it rivaled Emoni’s love for coffee. That squashed my desire for them to meet. A love for tea and coffee wasn’t the recipe for a budding friendship.

“There are a few books there.” He jerked his chin toward the table. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like.”

I took a sip of tea, grimaced at the tepid temperature, and was about to rewarm it in the microwave when Jasper’s eyes widened with disgust. Okay, I’ll drink cooled tea. He offered to make me another and directed me to the chaise. Watching him prepare the tea, I was convinced he enjoyed the preparation as much as the tea.

Lifting the hardback of Charlotte’s Web, I gave him a quizzical look.

“Sometimes a return to the books we loved as a child is what we desperately need.”

I wasn’t nostalgic enough to relive the bittersweet tears I’d shed reading it. Instead, I decided on falling into N. K. Jemisin’s world of The Broken Earth. But sleep had other ideas.

8

I awoke, covered by a heavy blanket, the book next to me, and fully aware of Dominic’s presence. It couldn’t be ignored. He’d repositioned the desk chair just a few inches from me. His turbulent energy was chasing away the calmness of the room.

“You didn’t come to bed last night.”

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