Page 47 of Tears of Revenge

Avalon hesitated, but then agreed. “Okay.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re the one who has to stare at them.”

“I would rather admire them. I should be back in about an hour. If there’s anything else you need, we can always come back.”

“Okay.”

Thankfully avoiding the nosy neighbour, he packed everything in the car and locked the door with the spare key Avalon had guided him to.

Restocking their blood supply went off without a hitch. Humans were still easily bought. At least one thing that hadn’t changed during his existence.

Back at home, he stored away the blood and found Avalon in the garden, yet again in the midst of the roses. Marcus lay in the sun by the patio, simply enjoying his view of her.

“She’s been standing there since you called. The butterflies love her.”

“And she clearly loves them.”

At the sound of footsteps, he turned to see Lysander exit the house. He went to the car and returned with the boxes of books, disappearing into the small sitting room. Curious, he followed him to find Lysander rearranging his own library to make room for hers.

“For someone who hates her, you’re trying pretty hard to make her feel comfortable in your home,” he stated, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I don’t hate her. I hate what you have done. Disliking a person and disliking a situation are two completely different things. She shouldn’t be punished for your screw-up.”

“Is the big bad wolf saying he’s warming up to our little dove?” If looks could kill, his life would’ve ended then and there. “Fine. While you take care of her treasures, I’ll get her clothes.”

Though as he got to the car, Avalon already had her bags of clothes and Marcus was carefully transporting her paintings into the house. Once he had the last of her things, he followed her to her room where Marcus was delicately setting the canvases down.

“Will you allow us to hang them around the house?” Marcus asked as Avalon disappeared into the closet.

“Only if you do the hanging, and I’m allowed to keep the ones we made together in here.”

“I think that is an unfair exchange as mine and Varos’s are horrendous compared to these, but I’ll agree.”

“I like them.”

“Then they are all yours,” he agreed, helping Marcus with the paintings.

Once everything was out of the car and in her room—except her paintings—he and Marcus retreated, finally giving Avalon some space to get settled.

Seventeen

Avalon

She spent time unpacking her things until she could no longer ignore the burning in her throat. After changing into something more comfortable, she made her way to the kitchen. When she entered the room, a tall glass of red liquid was already waiting for her. Lysander stood at the counter with his back to her, chopping vegetables on a cutting board.

“Can I help?” she asked, lifting the glass to her lips. Each new one got a little bit easier to drink.

Lysander slowly turned to look at her, brows furrowed as if he didn’t quite believe her.

“I’ve always enjoyed cooking,” Ava continued.

“You won’t be able to eat it.”

“I enjoy painting as well. I can’t eat those, can I?”

Lysander’s lips twitched—the closest she’d gotten to a smile—but he nudged some potatoes aside and set the knife on the counter. She set her glass down and took the spot next to him. While she continued peeling the potatoes, he moved onto onions and garlic.

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