Page 15 of Bloody Kingdom

She looks at the clock on the bedside table. “Noted.” Her mouth pulls into a tight smile. “I’ll be sure to make myself scarce around this time from now on.”

This woman… “That may be wise.” Reluctantly, I move farther into the room and closer to Ira’s sleeping form.

He was once a strong man. Short in stature and always scrawny, but he was stronger than people expected.Than I expected. That was what drew me to him in the first place, that despite what life had thrown at him, he kept his head high. He didn’t let anything beat him or tear him down. I respected that most about him.

“How did your first day go?” I finally ask her since I don’t want to wake Ira to ask him. The man deserves whatever peace he can get.

“He slept on and off most of it, I think all the excitement last night got to him,” she answers, finally putting down her book. She sits up straight, pulling her bare feet off the bed.

“The pain meds they’ve got him on are strong, he spends a lot of his days sleeping now.”

“Lung cancer is painful to die from,” she answers, keeping a watchful eye on Ira. Despite the fact she’s been forced to care for him, she still looks at him with eyes full of empathy. She back talks and pushes me, but Quincey is everything I’m not.She’s good. “Unfortunately, it’ll only get worse for him. It’s for the best he sleeps through most of it.”

“I just need to make sure you keep him comfortable.” The slight edge to my tone isn’t missed.

“I’m not happy to be here, Mr. Laurent,” she says my name like a curse. “But I’m not going to take my anger out on Ira.Hedoesn’t deserve it.”

Will she still say that when she finds out she’s only here because he requested it?

“Good.”

“I’m not evil.” Quincey glares up at me. “That’s more your gig.”

I could sit here and argue with her, but there is no need to prolong this exchange. With a stiff nod, I back out of the room. She doesn’t bother watching me go but instead stuffs her nose back into the worn paperback. I would bet a lot of money she’s not comprehending a single word she’s reading right now. Based on her erratic heartbeat, she’s bothered more by my presence than her cool and collected exterior shows.

She can pretend all she wants, but I know fear still fills her when I’m close.

I’m three feet away from the door, from ridding myself of her for the night when the unmistakable sound of a growling stomach fills my ears. My escape is so close and the option of pretending I didn’t hear it is still very much an option, but instead of leaving like I want to, I pause.

Quincey doesn’t return her attention to me, but I know she’s still aware of my presence. The way she bites her bottom lip nervously and her heart stays racing in her chest tells me this.

Let it go, just walk away,the little voice in my head whispers but instead I say, “Miss Page?”

She releases a dramatic sigh as she turns the page of her book. “Are you going to hover all night, Mr. Laurent? You’re already a kidnapper, might as well add stalker to your resume, I guess.”

When people call me by that name, it’s usually said with respect in their tone. The name means something to them. When Quincey says it, it’s like she’s rolling her eyes at me. Even though I’m the one who told her to call me that, and only that, I’m finding it doesn’t please me as much as it usually does.

I’m somehow successful in forcing myself to ignore her comment. “Did you eat today?”

Quincey finally peeks up at me from behind her book, her brows pulled in confusion, but she doesn’t answer me.

“I instructed someone to show you the kitchen today.” That someone being Duke. I’d asked him to show her around the house a little. I made it clear to him the places I wanted to make sure she knew were off-limits. She isn’t to go anywhere near the wing where my bedroom resides. “Did you eat today?” I hate repeating myself.

She looks at me like she’s taking a test she knows she’s going to fail. Instead of answering me truthfully, she lies. No surprise there. “I’m not hungry.”

As if on cue, her stomach growls loudly again. Even without my heightened senses, the noise is audible. Any human standing within fifteen feet of her would have heard that hungry rumble.

“You’re a stubborn woman,” I comment. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re an ass?” she quickly retorts.

“I’m sure of it.” I nod, my lips pulling in a cocky smirk. “They don’t usually live to say it again.”

She stuffs a piece of scrap paper into her book, marking her page, before closing the book. “Well, I’ll warn you, I’m going to say it again.” Quincey puts her book down on her chair and moves around the bed to pull the thick blanket further up Ira’s body. He’s always cold now. The fire in his room burns most days. If my body was still capable of fluctuating temperatures, I’m sure I’d be miserable sitting in a room as warm as this one. I’m just now starting to understand why Quincey would opt to wear as few clothes as possible. “So, I guess you’ll just have to add me to your growing list of victims.”

Victim. Flashbacks to my dream play in my head as I relive what it was like to drain the life from Quincey. I brush the unpleasant thought of her dead body away from my head and focus once more on the problem at hand. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” She looks at me cautiously.

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