Page 48 of Bred Mate
“We have a chef?”
“Yes.”
I frown. This is a whole other world, and I don’t belong.
“Where are my brothers?”
“Tim and Tate are working. Connor is at school. Feel free to explore the house, baby. I need to handle some business.”
Just like that, he leaves me alone in the place.
It would be so ungrateful to say that I don’t like his house. I come from a rotten swamp hut. I know he expects me to act like I’ve been rescued from horror. But I could be myself out there in the wilds, and in this city I will have to pretend to be human more often than not—a fate worse than death in some respects.
“Ellie!”
A boy wraps his arms around my waist unexpectedly while I am wandering the halls.
I almost don’t recognize my youngest brother. He is wearing a blue blazer, white shirt with a gold and blue tie, and tan pants with shoes so shiny I can see my face in them. His hair, long and shaggy in the woods, has been cut and brushed into a clean style.
He looks up, sees me, and his face transforms to the one I have always known. He drops his bag and rushes me with a big hug.
“I missed you, buddy,” I tell him. “I’m sorry I was away for so long.”
“They make me wear socks,” he says.
“I’m sorry. That’s fucked up,” I commiserate.
“It is.”
“Snacks are ready, Master Connor.”
A butler appears. He’s a tall, thin man with a dancer’s body and a general air of haughtiness. He barely looks at me at all. His eyes skim over me as if I am something he doesn’t deign to acknowledge, then he is ushering my brother off to the kitchen for food.
“Are you coming?” Connor stops and looks back at me.
“I guess?”
“I am sure the… lady is not here for snacks, Master Connor,” the butler says.
“She’s my sister, Baldwin,” Connor says. He’s already so comfortable talking to a servant. I don’t think I like that. In the woods, we did everything for ourselves. Here, someone else has cut his PB&J diagonally and gotten rid of the crusts as well. How absolutely fucking decadent can you get?
“My apologies, madam!” Baldwin is immediately apologetic. He knows that the sister of the boy is his master’s mate, I suppose.
“It’s okay. I look like trash and nobody bothered to introduce us. I was supposed to take a shower, but I got sidetracked.”
“Would you like me to draw you a bath?”
I look at him in confusion. “You can if you want, but I don’t know what I’d do with it. Stick it on the fridge, maybe?”
“No, madam,” Baldwin says, his expression masterfully controlled. “I meant would you like me to prepare you a bath, run water and such.”
He says it as if that’s supposed to make what he said less weird. As far as I am concerned, it makes it much, much more strange.I watch as he continues to get snacks for my younger brother, including a small box of juice. He pulls the plastic-covered straw off and sticks it in the little foil spot at the top before handing it to Connor.
“Oh. No. I can turn a tap, thank you.”
“Very good, mad…”
“Call me Ellie,” I say. “And stop serving Connor. The kid knows how to get his own snacks.”
