Page 10 of Your Coffin or Mine
“I thought we agreed that I would handle the guests and you would stick to the east wing? What happened to you having no time to deal with ridiculous humans? This wouldn’t be happening if you would just agree we need a chef.”
I just wanted to see if she would like the food I made, since I took the time to cook for a fucking human.
I step to the side to tilt bottles on the spice rack so I can read their labels, only to return seconds later. “Do we have any more belladonna?” I ask, despite knowing there would be none in the kitchen.
I hear his weary sigh. “You are not poisoning the guests, Vlad.”
“She’s cheeky.” I scowl into the skillet, willing her eggs to solidify.
“She’s harmless and unaware she’s living among predators.”
“That’s because humans are idiotic, with low survival skills and hardly any sense of self-preservation. It’s not my fault they breed like sheep and can’t mind themselves.” The toast pops from the toaster and I plate her eggs. “Move.”
He folds his arms and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You threw the muffins away I bought, didn’t you? Dammit, Vlad, we have more guests coming next week. We need to outsource for a chef immediately.”
I raise a brow. “Oh, and how do you plan to do that? Run an ad? ‘Castle Tepesh seeking chef with flexible hours. Preferably O negative blood type. And no heart conditions.’”
He is delusional. And his muffins will stay in the bin.
“Be serious,” Doyle intones.
“I am. How do her eggs look?” I ask, showing him the plate.
He glances over and nods. “Looks good to me.”
“Good. I hope she fucking chokes on them.” I step around him as he laughs. “You sound like a hyena. Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“At least I don’t look like astarvedhyena,” he retorts.
“Incidentally, neither do I after eating an entire fridge of vile blood bags.”I wonder if Frank could come up with bags with the texture of flesh. It would possibly make them more palatable.
Doyle thankfully keeps his mouth shut when I open the door and move to take the little prima donna her food.She would do well to appreciate my efforts or I will be packing her off myself.
I look up and freeze instantly.
She stands, blinking like a confused owl, her hair falling in flaxen waves, and her mouth open. When did sleepwear become this erotic? Her breasts are visible through the thin gray material, and it does little to hide her pink nipples. My god. My mouth waters and my cock stiffens, causing my flesh to heat.Oh fuck.
I can’t remember the last time my cock has stood at attention, and now I can feel every drop of blood in my veins slowly pooling in my groin. My incisors gnash in my mouth and my nails lengthen. I need her gone, and I need herbreastsgone. Now.
I withhold a whimper, anger snapping into place instead. “Where are the rest of your clothes, madam?”
“What?” She blinks, then frowns and looks down at herself.
“Put your nipples away.”
It’s sort of cute how her tiny hands ball into fists at her side.
“Excuse me?!”
“Aubrey! I was just coming to see if you’re ready for a tour of the castle.” Doyle shoves past me abruptly, jostling the tray of food, and I glare at his back.
My god, they bounce and sway as she moves. Surely, she must realize her effect on men? I move further into the room to place her eggs and toast on the table.
“See for yourself.” Ignoring his attempt to de-escalate the situation, I grab her, propelling her toward the wall with the antique mirror and nod at her sharp intake of breath. “Exactly.”
Hastily covering herself with one hand, a blush rises on her cheeks and instantly has my fangs aching. “Stop looking at my boobs!” She blinks at the mirror. “H-hey wait. Where is your reflection?”
I frown just as Doyle pulls her away from the mirror. “These are some funny Halloween mirrors we found on Etsy. You know, props.” He chuckles, and the sound is so obviously forced.
