Page 187 of Immortal Bastard

She wanted to give him the full ‘English’ experience.

“This is what’s called reality TV. People apply to be on a show, and they live in a house where cameras follow them around non-stop. There’s no privacy and plenty of drama.”

“Do they not feel violated?”

She shrugged. “They sign up for it. Watch. This is a good one. Those two fight.”

He frowned. “You’ve watched this before.”

“Yeah. These are old episodes.”

A catfight broke out on screen and he scowled. “You find this entertaining?”

“Extremely.”

She snuggled into his side and reveled in the realness of the moment. She’d never done something so normal with him or been so thrilled to simply Netflix and chill.

When the show ended on a cliffhanger, he looked at her expectantly. “Is there more?”

She laughed. “See? You’re already addicted.”

“I feel less intelligent since sitting here, but now I feel pressured to know what Kourtney is going to do.”

“You’ll get sucked in for days. There are so many better options.” She picked up the remote and flicked through the channels, stopping when she saw a movie on Horror Net. “You might like this.”

The credits opened with a quick montage of a house in the woods. Eerie music played as a woman innocently prepared dinner. Then the scene changed. A deranged serial killer chased a young girl through a graveyard. She screamed and tripped. The killer caught up to her and broke her neck, silencing her screams.

Christian bolted to his feet and hissed, scaring a real scream out of Delilah and a reflexive, “What the fuck?”

He looked at the television, but it was back on the woman making supper. “The girl…”

“It’s just a movie, Christian.” She shut it off. “Mental note, no Horror Net for you.”

He lowered to the sofa and retracted his claws. “Perhaps we should sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

She sensed all of this modern technology was wearing him out. “Okay.”

She shut off the television and carried the empty box of pizza to the kitchen. At least he liked that.

A wave of self-consciousness hit her when she led him to her room. Christian had acre upon acre of beautiful countryside to call his own, and she had an eight-by-eight room with a bed and a dresser cramped up against a wall.

She flattened out the worn coverlet and fluffed a pillow that had mascara and hair dye stains on the case. “So, this is my room.”

He looked down at the small platform bed. She couldn’t imagine what he was thinking and she honestly didn’t want to know. As much as she’d begged to come home, now that she was here she was anxious to leave.

This place now felt like a holding spot, a purgatory that occupied her before her life officially found meaning, sort of like a warming station under hot lights in the back of a restaurant. Christian’s life was the three-star dining experience on the other side. The real deal.

She glanced up at him, noting the displeased expression on his face and the tight set of his jaw. He hated it. “We can leave first thing in the—”

“Who was he?”

She paused. “Um, what?”

His hard stare hadn’t lifted from the bed. “Someone else has been in this room. A male. Who?”

“No one’s—”

“Delilah, I smell him.”

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