Page 4 of The Dark Labyrinth

Alexis only grinned at his obvious goading. "You do know that Zo is the only one who is susceptible to your charm anymore. Even Aelia has moved on from you."

"Aelia is where she’s always belonged, with the one she was meant to be with," Constantine replied without a drop of jealousy towards Phaidros. There was no denying the truth that Aelia and Phaidros belonged together. He cocked a brow at Alexis. "And you wouldn't know whether or not my charm works on you because I've never tried to charm you, Alecto."

Alexis said something to him in Latin that was too quick for Penelope to catch, but she knew it was insulting because Constantine threw his head back and laughed. He moved out of the way, and Alexis placed a pretty silver pot of coffee down on Penelope's desk with a cup and saucer and an arrangement of Buranelli cookies, nougat, and Turkish delight. She had learned not to ask how old the dishware was, fearing the answer might make her too scared to use it.

"Zo really is in festive cooking mode," Penelope said and dunked a pistachio and almond crescent in her coffee. She groaned with happiness with the first mouthful.

"He's made me all my favorites, including pomegranate baklava. I'm surprised he remembered," Constantine said.

Penelope hid her smile. "I'm not."

Everyone had a soft spot for Constantine whether they liked it or not. Even Alexis, who he'd had an argument with for literally hundreds of years, was glad to have him back in the fold of the family.

"The kitchen is out of control. There's no way we are going to eat that much food," Alexis said, sitting in the chair on the opposite side of Penelope's desk.

"Don't worry. I'm taking him out tonight," Constantine said, heading for the door. "The basilica is doing Christmas Evecarols, and he promised to come with me. Do you two want to come as well?"

"Absolutely not," Penelope said around a mouthful of nougat. "I promised Aelia I would help her do that thing with the stuff." Constantine looked questioningly at Alexis.

"She hates Christmas," Alexis filled him in.

Constantine's brows shot up, the spark of challenge in his eyes. "Well, we will have to change her mind about that, won't we?"

Penelope only rolled her eyes at the pair of them and went back to her treats, the only thing that had ever been good about the holidays.

CHAPTER THREE

All was not right in the kitchen. Zo knew he needed to stop, but every time he did, fear and anxiety would come crashing down around him.

"Bread. We need more bread," Zo whispered under his breath and poured a mound of flour onto his pristine counter.

He had been baking for days, making sure everyone had their favorite food for the holiday. The smell of wood smoke and burnt paper filled his nostrils again, and he quickly found the yeast and eggs he needed.

He couldn't stop now, or the memory of Elazar almost being burned alive would overwhelm him. It didn't matter how much he told himself that he was safe, that he was upstairs with his precious books and alive, alive, alive. The fear would rise in his chest, squeezing the air from him until his vision darkened.

No. He had to keep busy. He had to make the bread. Penelope and Alexis were back. They would need more of everything.

"Zotikos, we have an engagement," a deep voice said from the other side of the kitchen.

Zo ignored it, the voice barely filtering through his rising emotions. He buried his brown hands into the flour, making a well for his eggs and water.

Larger hands came over and circled his wrists. They were covered in small scars from centuries of fighting, his callouses stained with ink from books. Zo knew those hands because they were the other great obsession of his life.

"Zo, look at me," Constantine said, his tone carrying a touch of imperial authority.

Zo dragged his gaze from the hands on his skin to Constantine's blue-gray eyes. "We need bread."

"No, we don't. You promised to come with me to the carols at the Basilica. Wash your hands. We are leaving," Con said, a smile lifting his lips. "We have a date, Zo. Don't stand me up for bread."

Heat rushed up Zo's spine, and he quickly untangled his hands from Constantine's. Nearly seventeen hundred years had passed since they had first met, and the old fox could still make him blush like a fool.

And he was a fool. He had a never-dying crush on the bastard, and Zo had thought he was at peace with it. He scorned the heat that flooded him.

Zo went to the sink, scrubbed his hands a little too vigorously, and untied his apron. Constantine looked him over and brushed a stray spot of flower that had gotten on Zo's shoulder.

"You'll do. Come on. You need to get out of this kitchen," Constantine said and turned his shoulders towards the door. There really was no arguing with Constantine, so Zo followed, helpless to deny his old friend anything.

Zo took his favorite leather jacket from the wardrobe by the front door and wrapped a gray scarf around his neck. Like therest of the villa, the wardrobe tended to provide you with what you needed when you needed it.

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