Page 55 of Your Coffin or Mine
“Haha! I don’t know about delight, but it’s my grandmother’s spaghetti recipe. Everyone always loves it. I had to use penne. You didn’t have any spaghetti noodles.”
“I’m sure it is fine. Have I told you how beautiful you look today?” My hands encircle her waist, pulling her into my arms. Her cheeks flush pink and she tucks her arms around herself nervously. “I am a whole mess and a half, and you think I look beautiful?”
I kiss her neck, inhaling her scent, unsure of how the next twenty minutes will unfold. One last taste before Idie.
“You could be wearing a sack, and covered in mud, and still be beautiful to me.”
Her blonde hair is a strange mess perched precariously atop her head, and a soft blue sweater falls across her shoulders, bringing out the color of her eyes. She grins and her gaze softens. I lean down and brush my lips with hers, enjoying the way she sighs into my mouth.
Resisting the urge to growl when Doyle returns, stomping toward the open pantry door, I kiss her lips once more before pulling away.
“Weird place to suck face, but whatever.” He stands staring at us, one hand holding a black bowl and the other shoving a spoonful of whatever concoction she’s made into his mouth.
Aubrey smiles and rolls her eyes. “Hey, what happened to us waiting on you? I’m starving too.”
She brushes past me and Doyle smirks. “It’s really good. I say we keep her.”
He shovels in another mouthful, and I snatch the bowl from his hands with my mind. He glares at me in reproach, and I glare even as sweat beads across my forehead.
“Seriously, you guys. Come sit and eat,” she calls out.
He catches the bowl deftly from the air when my control breaks.
“I see you’re getting some of your strength back,” he says, grinning.
I flex my hands and stretch. “Yes, some, but I’m not at full power yet.”
He stares daggers at me, holding his bowl of food as if worried I will take it again, feet shuffling backward as he makes his way to the door. “Maybe next time you’ll rethink not eating for a century.”
I follow him and he stops me before I head toward the dining room.
He nods toward the parlor doors. “She’s set lunch up there, and says she likes the light.” He shakes his head at me when I raise my brow and sniff lightly. “If you were a youngling, you’d have died an hour ago just from the fumes. I think you’re safe.”
I cringe at him. “It’s not the same as ingestion, as you well know.”
“The things we do for love, and bywe, I mean you. A fucking vampire eating garlic willingly, you realize you’re an idiot,” he says, while shoving more of Aubrey’s food into his mouth.
I stare in disgust, my body fairly shuddering with revulsion as I watch him eat. “Chances are I’m immune. Have you heard of a napkin?”
Vampires heal at an alarming rate already, so as the years pass, they become immune to properties like garlic. Even the sun doesn’t burn as bright after the first five hundred years. But it does still burn.
“Shhh. It’s delicious. So good.” He groans, swiping at his mouth with a hand. “And besides, chances are your undead heart could stop for real, but luckily I have the EpiPen. Not to worry, Vlad, I won’t let her kill you.”
Doyle claps me hard on the back and I growl low. I follow behind him toward the old parlor room.
I haven’t spent much time in this part of the castle, but fully approve of her choosing to eat here. The windows are large, and the pale color of the walls gives the place a sense of the outdoors, but it’s cozy and intimate.
Aubrey’s head is bowed in concentration at a small round table near one of the more lavish lancet windows the castle is equipped with. She clicks away at her phone, a sharp frown on her face.
Grabbing my phone from my pocket, I send Doyle a text, which is rather simple with my only contacts being Frank and Doyle.
Me:
I need Aubrey’s contact information.
Doyle:
Why?
