Page 171 of White Raven
“I’m coming,” he insisted, and she heard a plate clink.
“Wish I could say the same.” Maybe it was just the heaviness of the day they’d all had, but Athan was walking into every single one of her jabs like he didn’t have a chance of seeing them coming tonight. He laughed from the kitchen, and it made her chest warm. At least she could give him that after everything that went on this week. It was surprising that he was even in this good of a mood and offering to cook after swearing he’d never do it again. “What is that smell?” she asked, crinkling her nose.
Finally, he approached her side of the bed carrying two plates and wearing one hell of a triumphant smile. It was devastatingly beautiful on him right now. Her own smile faded as he set the plate in her lap. Sarah stared at it like it would grow its own set of fangs and snap at her. “Bon’ appetit, my lady. My first ever unscathed dinner.”
Sarah’s finger poked at the round black thing in the middle of the plate. “Baby…I hate to tell ya? But it looks pretty damn charred to me.”
He strutted happily around to his side, and scooched closer with his own plate. Every single tattoo on the upper half of his body looked more delicious than whatever it was that he was about to make her eat. “Actually…it’s supposed to look like that, thank you very much. It’s called black pudding. And that there is beans on toast. Breakfast of champions.”
“Athan…it’s eight at night. And I know what beans look like on a piece of bread.” His self-pride looked diminished for a second, and she leaned over, taking one side of his face with her palm and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “You did great.”
“Thank you,”he humphed. “Now eat it.”
She looked back down at the plate, and picked up the black blob, dangling it over the toast with two fingers. Her facial expression must have been hysterical, because he started laughing through the biggest bite she’d ever seen him take…aside from her fuckingneck. “What the hell is a black pudding?”
“Bloodsausage,” he mumbled, chewing. “Just fucking try it, and stop your bitching, woman. Trust me…please?” Those baby blue eyes softened pitifully, and he might as well have poked his lip out—no…hedid. He did poke that luscious lip out.
Bastard.
Sarah’s face scrunched in agony, and she opened her mouth sliding the blob between her teeth and biting off a chunk. It was surprisingly good…reallygood. “Oh, mygahh…” she said, biting off a bigger piece. “This is amazing. Are you serious?”
“Told you to trust me,” Athan grinned, biting into his toast. “My mom cooked this almost every morning. She’d fry an egg, over-easy, and slice tomatoes on them too…but you know my history with chicken periods.” Sarah nearly spit out her food.
“I’m sorry…what?” she cackled, setting the pudding back down on her plate and continuing to laugh as she held a knuckle to her lips.
“Chicken periods,” he smiled, chewing.
“Explain yourself!” she laughed, not able to help herself.
“What do you mean? That’s what it is.”
“Athan…no. No, no, no.” Sarah’s hand waved back and forth across her face and tears started stinging her eyes as she bent over her plate in laughter.
“Itis!” he argued. “All an egg is, is a missed shot. Tell me I’m wrong. We eat chicken periods. End of story.” He bit off another hunk of his pudding.
“I’m never eating eggs again,” she laughed. “You just ruined so much for me.”
“Hurry up and finish that so I can ruin something else.”
“Oh, uh-uh…my libido just crashed through the floor. Thanks for that.”
Poe danced on his perch, begging for a piece of their dinner, and Athan pointed up at him.“Asshole,”he trilled,shuffling a wing. Sarah erupted. Athan’s eyes boggled in shock, and then he lost his shit too.
“Dad of the year!” she choked, wiping her eyes, and heaving over her plate. They finally calmed themselves and finished their dinner…or breakfast…whatever. Poe got his share too and started curling up on himself for the night. Athan lit himself a cigarette and held an arm out for Sarah to lean into him. “Perfect ending to a shitty day,” she sighed against his chest.
“It’s not over yet,” he exhaled, blowing a line of smoke towards the ceiling. She glanced up at him, admiring that chiseled jawline. “There’s a reason other than the fact that I can’t cook that I made that for us tonight.”
“Lay it on me, detective.”
“Since we’re kind of running on ‘destination anywhere’…I wanted to ask you something.” He held the cigarette between his fingers and rested it at his side as he looked down at her.
“Okay?” Sarah asked, propping herself up on her elbow, and resting her chin on her knuckles. “I’m intrigued.”
His eyes were so sincere, and she could tell whatever his reason was, really meant a lot to him. “I wanna take you to London. Back home.”
Sarah’s mouth dropped open. “Athan…”
“If you don’t want to, I’ll understand, and I’ll be perfectly fine with it, but—”
