Page 77 of Fae Devoted
“Then we are still at odds.” And had been since almost the beginning.
“So it would seem.” She rose from her seat with the determination and grace of a queen…of an empress.
Hisfuture empress.
Chapter 23
The Remington Pack’skitchen smelled of charred brownies and burned sugar. Oddly enough, the acrid scent reminded Johnnie of rainy days spent learning to bake with her beloved Nana—and failing spectacularly. A young pup’s attention span was equal to a gnat’s.
Huffing in disgust, Johnnie dumped the latest pan of inedible brownies into the garbage bin and considered giving up for the night. The whole point of bribing King Alexander’s chef to allow her into his kitchen after-hours was to distract her from thoughts of Jacob.
“That worked out well,” she muttered, surveying the over-baked pie crusts and dry, cracked cakes crowding the countertops. She owed the pack a week’s worth of desserts and refused to serve less than her best.
Unlike many in the culinary world, Johnnie loved the precise science of weights and measurements that defined baking and normally found serenity in the meticulous process.Normallybeing the keyword. Nothing in her life was even close to normal anymore.
“Stupid mating bond.” The irony of cursing something desired fiercely a few days ago—in truth, still desired—wasn’t lost on her.
Johnnie would never regret starting the Dance with Jacob. It was the uncharacteristic anger and disappointment toward him she could do without. It ate at her heart like a slow-acting venom, and she couldn’t find the calm and solitude to work theugly toxin from her system. Not while Jacob was telegraphing feelings as chaotic as her own 24/7.
“I’m a happy person, dammit.” Gathering her heavy hair into a messy bun and securing the long locks on the top of her head with an elastic band, she hunted down another set of clean baking sheets with renewed determination.
I can do this.
Thirty minutes later, Johnnie was adding the dry ingredients to the creamed butter and sugar concoction in her second batch of cookies, the first baking in the top oven. She turned off the stand mixer and removed its bowl, needing to fold in the last two ingredients with a wooden spoon. The addition of espresso powder to the recipe enriched the taste of the chocolate chips, giving Jacob’s favorite cookie the extraoomphher grandmother calleda little sumthin’, sumthin’.
“And you’re thinking ofhimagain,” she groused to the empty room.
Her neck began to tingle, and she plunked the stainless-steel bowl on the marble island with a metallic thwack. Tendrils of frustration slid against her senses, poking and prodding at the bond, like roots seeking fertile ground.
“Jo, can I come in?” Jacob called from the open doorway a moment later.
Johnnie grunted. Although the sound wasn’t near as impactful as Jacob’s masculine version, she took callow satisfaction in his answering frown.
Giving him her back, she rummaged through the drawers for another roll of parchment paper and a clean scoop as the single swinging door to the compact kitchen swished closed. The dominant energy and addictive scent encroaching on her borrowed space told her Jacob interpreted her nonverbal response as a yes.
She turned to find him standing on the other side of the large island with a to-go cup in his hand. They’d hardly spoken in forty-eight hours, not since her angry outburst in Remington’s office. Her chest ached with the realization that the vast expanse of stone was indicative of more than the mere physical distance separating them. And she was partly to blame for their lack of communication. Johnnie was avoiding him on purpose.
“I brought you a hot chocolate.” He set the steaming cup on the countertop, then stuck his hands in his front pockets. “None of the coffee machines in the building make lattes.”
“Thank you.” She pretended to focus on spooning the cookie dough onto the large aluminum sheet in round, equal sizes, although her annoying awareness of the male four feet away made it hard to concentrate on anything but him.
“Jo, can we—”
“Is there any news on Jeremiah or the twins?” she interrupted, determined to steer clear of anything personal. She wasn’t ready to address the large, hairy gorilla in the room.
“Nothing.” His cellphone buzzed an incoming message, but he ignored it.
“And the facility?” she asked, keeping her head down.
“No, and the king has been looking for months.” He paused. “We’re considering the possibility that a concealment or cloaking ward is hiding it from the local Guard.”
That made her look up.
Unscrupulous organizations used Anwyll mercenaries to hide their illegal activities all the time, and the Knights of Humanity were a prime example of how low a militant group could stoop. Neither the knights nor the witches they hired had cared who they hurt when they unleashed the monstrous spell at Chess. If not for Johnnie’s clanmates and the brave witches present that night, the Dádhe driven by bloodlust could have killed the humans trapped inside the club. It’d been monthssince the attack, but vampires in Memphis were still afraid to venture off-island alone for fear of retaliation from the unsympathetic, Untouched community.
“But I thought an Anwyll ward didn’t work against a Ferwyn’s nose.” Johnnie felt the blood leave her face. “Unless Lord Daimhín somehow used his magic to boost the strength of the spell?”
“We can’t rule it out.”
