Page 16 of Bloody Kingdom

“I’m leaving here shortly, but I will escort you to the kitchen so you can feed yourself since it’s clear you haven’t done so all day.” I gesture with my hand for her to follow me.

“I told you I wasn’t hungry.”

“I don’t like liars, Miss Page,” I rumble unhappily. “I need you to take care of yourself so you can take care of Ira.”

She pausesas she brings the forkful of pasta to her mouth. “Are you sure you don’t want to eat?” Quincey asks for the second time since she sat down in one of the barstools with her bowl of food. “I feel weird eating when you’re not.”

“I already ate,” I tell her as I lean against the counter with my arms crossed. I had three bags of blood tonight, that’s one more than I usually ingest, but for some reason, my hunger was a lot stronger than usual. I blame my dream. Even now, I feel the slight burn in my gums as my fangs threaten to descend. I shouldn’t still be craving blood after I got my fix.

“Okay,” she drawls before sticking the bite of food into her mouth. Instantly, her eyes widen, and she makes a low moaning noise that makes my whole body freeze. “Oh my god, this is amazing. Who made this?” She quickly takes another bite.

I clear my throat as it’s suddenly dry after hearing that noise come from her. “It’s Della’s recipe.”

“I don’t know who that is.” Quincey shrugs.

“She works for me. Cooks for the employees who are here throughout the day and cleans the house.” Della has been with me for years, just like Ira has. “She looked after Ira the best she could when he first started to deteriorate. When it got to be too much for her to handle, Ira and I decided it was time to consider finding a trained professional.”

She pauses before concluding, “So she’s your maid?”

My body bristles. “She’s paid more yearly than you’ll see in a decade. She’s much more than a common maid,” I snap at her, feeling defensive of Della.

Quincey’s mouth sets into an angry flat line while she holds her hands up in surrender. “No need to bite my head off. I don’t know anything about you or the people who work in this house. So,pardon mefor trying to play catch-up and learn more about the epic shit show I’ve found myself in.” She angrily drops her fork back into the ceramic bowl, the sound it makes fills the suddenly tense space. She hops off the barstool and grabs her still full bowl of food off the counter before moving toward the sink.

“What are you doing?” I question.

“I’m suddenly no longer hungry.” She glares at me, her blue eyes look like thunderclouds. Before she reaches the sink, she pauses and whirls around to face me. “You know, you’ve made it clear you don’t want me here and I’ve made it clear I don’t want to be here. The difference is you had a choice in the matter. Youchoseto bring me here, youchosethis.” Quincey motions between us with her free hand. “So, I would suggest, Mr. Laurent, you learn to lie in the bed you’ve made because unfortunately, I’m here for the foreseeable future.” With that, she turns back around and returns to her task.

She’s just about to dump the contents of her bowl into the large sink, and without thinking, I’m across the room, grabbing her arm before she can dispose of her food. Quincey’s breath hitches in surprise and she shifts away from me, attempting to pull her limb from my grasp, but I hold tight “Shit! How the hell do you move so fast?” She sounds more annoyed than scared over my inhuman speed. “Let go of me, your hand is freezing.”

I don’t answer her question and I refuse to let go of her. “You need to eat.”

“Why do you care if I eat or not?” she questions. “You’ve made it clear you don’t give a rat’s ass about my personal safety or health. I’m tired, I haven’t slept in thirty-six hours. Just let me go.”

She hasn’t slept or eaten since she’s been here? Despite the circumstances of how she got here, I don’t want to torture her. She hasn’t displeased me to that point.Yet. “No one should go to bed hungry.”

Quincey glances around the gourmet kitchen full of nothing but high-end stainless-steel appliances and pristine white marble countertops. “Like you have any idea what it’s like to go to bed hungry,” she scoffs.

My fingers dig deeper into her sensitive flesh. “Don’t pretend to know anything about me or my past, Miss Page,” I warn. “You have no idea what kind of hardships I faced, or how many days I went with an empty belly before I became the man I am today.” That is the only information she will ever learn of my history and the last time I will speak of it to her.

The thunderclouds in her eyes disperse and are replaced with a sympathetic expression I don’t particularly enjoy. While that look is what makes her good at her job, it’s also what makes her weak. Quincey needs to learn to harden herself before life rips her to shreds. You would think after the situation her dad had left her in, she would be more jaded.

Our eyes stay pinned on each other, one set like a summer’s day, the other like the night sky. This close to her, I feel like I’m suffocating on the sweet scent of her. It washes over me and I already know when I leave this house for the night, I’ll smell her on me.

“Let me go,” she whispers after a minute.

I don’t follow orders, but this one time I comply, taking a large step away from her. It’s more for my sake than hers, I need to get away from her. “I have a meeting I have to attend to. Do yourself and your body a favor and eat something.”

“You have a meeting?” she questions, ignoring my request for her to continue eating. “Isn’t the workday over?”

Mine is just beginning.

“All of my business is done after sundown, Miss Page,” I explain as I begin backing away to the exit.

“Of course, it is,” she says dryly, her lips pulling into a smirk.

I freeze. “What does that mean?” Surely, she hasn’t already started to piece what I am together? Even Della didn’t figure it out this fast.

Quincey just shrugs a narrow shoulder. “Criminals don’t typically do business in broad daylight,” she says simply before taking a bite of food. “Have fun at your meeting, Mr. Laurent. Try not to kidnap anyone tonight. I don’t know if my fragile ego could handle sharing the title ofcaptivewith anyone else.” She turns away, her bowl of food in hand, before waving goodbye to me in a flippant manner.

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