Page 41 of Bourbon & Blood

“I liked the nightgown better,” he said.

I blushed furiously, caught off guard and said, my voice clipped, “I only wear that on special occasions.”

“You deserve to wear beautiful things no matter what the occasion,” he said, and I whipped my head around to look at him. There was no cruel joke to his expression, nothing but that strange and unnerving placid stoicism. His arms crossed a bit awkwardly over his chest due to his size.

“I tend to save my favorite things,” I said as I filled the back of the coffee pot with water.

I discarded the old filter and grounds and lined the basket with a new one.

“You should enjoy your favorite things,” he said, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “Every chance you get. Life’s too short.”

I paused, opening the cupboard and considered his words. I suppose, for a man like him, that made sense. I suppose, thinking about it a little more deeply, that it made sense for anyone, really.

In that regard, instead of reaching for the cheap stuff, I brought down my favorite coffee blend and scooped a generous amount into the waiting filter and basket.

I started the coffeemaker and shoved it back into its spot on the counter.

“What… what happened that night?” I asked again, because it was high key driving me nuts not knowing.

“There was some trouble an’ I took care of it. You took a knock to the back of your head and fainted, so I took care of the rest after that, too,” he said and I scraped my bottom lip between my teeth thoughtfully.

“The only time I’ve ever fainted in my life is at the sight of blood,” I said and then I returned my eyes to his as the pieces fell into place…had my missing clothes been taken because they’d been covered in blood? And if so, whose blood?

“The less you know, the better,” he said, and I nodded, my mouth suddenly gone dry, and in that moment, I chose to believe him, dropping the subject completely, except for...

“Whatever happened,” I said. “Thank you for getting me home safely.”

He nodded but didn’t say a word else on the matter.

I opened my mouth to ask a question, hesitated, looking back through Maya’s bedroom doorway at Cypress standing there, and closed my mouth, unwilling to ask.

Instead, I asked quietly, “Did you have to bring them?”

His head didn’t move, but his eyes slid in the direction of Maya’s doorway.

“To find your friend? Yes. They’re here to help. Why? You want some alone time?” he asked.

“I would like to ask some questions,” I said quietly. “About… things… um, regarding our…” I cleared my throat. “Arrangement.”

His gaze had settled back on me as I pulled down four mugs from the cupboard.

“Plenty of time for that later,” he said with a one-shouldered shrug. “When’s your next night off?” he asked.

“Um, tonight,” I said.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Mm-hm.”

There was an uncomfortable lull in our conversation and he pushed off the counter, dropping his arms to his side. I didn’t mean to, but I think I flinched.

He stilled and his voice pitched low so that only I could really hear, he said, “Lemme take you for a ride tonight, then. We can get somethin’ to eat maybe, an’ that way you can ask your questions.”

I pursed my lips, rubbing them together, and finally nodded. I didn’t have any other plans.

My phone vibrated on the counter where I’d set it and he leaned back against the counter again on the other side of the sink from me, his arms returning to their intimidating posture over his chest as I snatched it up and looked.

It was Dorian, asking about Maya.

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