Page 124 of Blood Day
Not Khalid.
He’d dismissed the staff with a sternness that had told them not to return.
“You’re surprised.” Khalid didn’t look at me while he spoke, his gaze on the trays of food. “If you need blood, you can call them back.”
I picked up a piece of pita bread from a side plate and eyed the various spreads. “I have a prospect in my bed more than willing to give me blood.” Not that I needed much of it.
“Is that another reason for keeping her? Her ‘willingness’ to donate?” His tone held a certain dry quality to it, causing my focus to shift to him. He wasn’t looking at me, though. He was focused on the shakshuka dish.
“Is there such a thing as ‘willing’ in this new world?” I countered, causing his gaze to flick up to mine. “Humans are now cattle. Are cows given a choice in their slaughter?”
He considered me for a long moment, those eyes of his holding a thousand secrets, not one of which he would ever give away.
Rather than reply to my questions, he returned hisfocus to the meal and dipped some pita bread in the shakshuka.
I followed suit, only I started with the ful—the fava bean dip was always my favorite—and hummus. I added a bit of yogurt spread as well. Then I shifted to my own shakshuka dish.
“The first time I ordered this, they tried to add blood to the sauce,” Khalid said conversationally. “I’d wondered if that was because it was your preference.”
I considered the tomato-based dish and the poached eggs on top. “No. I typically only request the ful and hummus.” Which wasn’t often, as I usually didn’t indulge in breakfast.
“That’s a boring meal.”
I shrugged. “I find most things in life boring these days.” A statement I probably shouldn’t admit out loud, but it was the truth. And as Khalid was even older than me, he would understand that boredom.
“Hence the fascination with your little flower,” he mused, making me still.
He’d used that nickname with purpose, ensuring I knew he was aware of my infatuation.
“I’m not going to deny your request,” he continued, his focus on spreading some yogurt onto his pita bread—with a knife. “But I am going to alter it.” He took a bite and set the blade down, something that seemed to serve a purpose in itself.
A gesture of sorts.
A way of saying he was a threat to me, but he wasn’tactivelythreatening me.
I forced myself to remain calm and play this dangerous game. “What alterations do you intend to make?” My voice sounded bored, like what he’d just told me meant nothing to me at all.
But inside, I was spinning questions.
Why does he care about Lily?
Does he want her for himself?
Is this all just a power trip? A way to remind me that he’s the superior in this situation?
Why is he even bothering with such frivolous things? Boredom, perhaps?
He finished swallowing and picked up his water, taking several long pulls before he answered my vocalized questions. “She needs to finish her servitude course and the lycan politics class. But she can continue her sexual arts training here, as well as the combat course. And I’ll sign off on her revised living arrangements, assuming you prefer her in your bed and not the dorms.”
I couldn’t exactly fight him on the decision. But as far as alterations went, they were acceptable.
Except for one item.
“What kind of sexual training and combat course will she be doing here?” Because I strongly suspected there was a catch to that part of the curriculum.
He didn’t answer right away, playing his power card by eating slowly.
I followed suit, forcing myself to chew and swallow without actually tasting anything.
