Page 50 of A Heart Of Bitter Poison
There’s nothing a predator like Ashen enjoys more than a challenge. And there is nothing to stoke the fire of desire more than a gust of denial. Coming so close to what you want only to have it pulled just beyond your reach?.. Tell me it doesn’t make you want it that much more.
Yes, this is a game I can definitely play.
CHAPTER20
Ienter the kitchen just as Cassian is pouring himself a cup of coffee. He glances up at me and smiles as he adds in some blood. “Morning,zanne dolci.”
I snort a laugh and head to the cupboards, rummaging until I find a blender on a high shelf. I pull it down and give the jug a rinse. “Sleep okay?”
“Better than you, from what I heard. You always did like to meander in the night,” he says, blowing steam across his mug as he watches me set up the blender with a bemused expression. I know he can sense the subtle blush that warms my cheeks. “Davina is at the main house, she will bring Bianca back with her soon to take a look at the script you seem to have painted in the bathroom.”
I turn to the fridge to grab the butter, unwrapping the foil to plop the whole thing in a bowl. I place the dish in the microwave and hit it for two minutes. “Where are the others?”
Cassian nods toward the window that looks over the gardens. Cole sits off to the side in the shade, reading today’s copy ofCorriere della Serawith a selection of other newspapers spread across the table before him. Eryx and Ediye are on the lawn in the sun, tossing a frisbee back and forth as Urtur bounds between them, his tongue lolling.
I stand and watch them for a long moment. Cassian joins by my side, and I smell the nuances in his scent, the new and the unfamiliar. The sage and anise in his cologne. The fainter, ancient smell of his skin, like quince and myrrh.
We don’t talk for a long moment. I think we’re both lost in how much there is to say, and how hard it is to say it. Maybe it will never be said. But it feels good to have this loop of time in my hands again, like I might be able to one day close the broken chain.
“It’s good to see you again,” I say, glancing at him. His kind eyes smile back at me when he nods, but I can see there’s old pain and new awkwardness and questions beneath their warm brown hue.
I take a deep breath and I want to say something about being sorry, so sorry for the hurt I caused him all those years ago. I treated him so unfairly, and I know the letters weren’t enough. Maybe it helped him to believe I’d died three hundred years ago. Maybe being back from the dead is worse than thinking I was gone forever.
Before I can turn to start to saying something,anything, Cassian smiles and moves toward the island.
“So a Reaper, hmm? You always did have an affinity for trouble.”
“Yourself included,” I say with a warm smile over my shoulder as I take the coffee pot and bring it over to the blender.
“Ediye told me some of what happened to you both in his realm. Are you okay?”
I turn and lean against the counter. We watch each other for a long moment. The smile dissolves from his eyes, replaced with worry. “No. But I will be, in time. And I will do everything I can to keep the same thing from happening to you.”
“One thing you never did run from was a fight. I believe you.”
I don’t let myself cringe at that not-so-subtle and much deserved blow that lies beneath the compliment. I just give Cassian a slight nod before I turn back to pouring coffee in the blender, leaving all but a fraction of a cup behind in the pot.
“What are you up to?” Cassian asks, his voice wary.
I toss him a smile over my shoulder as I hear the door close down the hall. “Warfare,” I say quietly as my smile turns wicked.
He laughs and rolls his eyes, bringing his mug up to his lips. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
We smile at one another as Ashen enters the kitchen. He’s in his unfailing black ensemble, down to his polished black shoes. We couldn’t look more mismatched if we tried, me in a flowy white shirt and skin-tight, uber short jean cut-offs and him looking like he’s stepped out of the pages of a mafia romance novel with his expensive clothes and fancy new knuckle tattoos.
“Good morning,” he says to Cassian, his voice low and gruff. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s a little jealous.
“Reaper. I hope my maker didn’t keep you up all night with her nocturnal meanderings,” he says, winking at me behind Ashen’s back as he heads to the bread box and pulls two slices of bread out, putting them into the toaster.
“Vampires and sleep do not mix well for various reasons, it seems,” he says, letting the innuendo hang as a heavy note in his voice as he heads to the fridge.
I drift through the scent of melting butter to slip my way past Ashen’s broad frame and grab the coffee cream and a bag of blood. “You sound as though you’re an expert. You must have spent so many nights with my kind.”
“A few,” he says. I don’t have to look up to see the cryptic smile that I hear in his voice. Cheeky fucker.
The microwave dings and my glee quickly erases my own jealous thoughts that bloom like poisonous flowers. I virtually skip over to the blender, dumping in some cream and then the bag of blood. I take my time, watching as Ashen rummages through the fridge, coming up empty handed. He closes it as the toast pops and he turns, coming face-to-face with me, my arm outstretched, my hand curled around the microwave handle. His eyes narrow and I know he can smell it now, above the scent of warm toast.
Melted butter.
