Page 40 of Ophelia's Vampire

“Cleaning up? I confess I may not be completely informed on etiquette for dining somewhere that’s not a restaurant or catered party, but if I recall, it’s poor manners to let the person who did the cooking also do the cleaning.”

Ophelia snorts, grabs her plate, and stands. For good measure, she grabs mine as well.

“Yeah, after I come inside your house uninvited and destroy your kitchen, I’m really going to let you clean up after me.”

She takes the plates and deposits them in the sink, but I’m right on her heels. When she turns to start cleaning up the rest of the mess, she nearly knocks into me. Her breath catches, and when she has to tilt her chin up to meet my gaze, I catch sight of my mark on her throat.

Nearly healed now, a softer pink rather than the vivid red it was the night we went to the Raven. Something about seeing it there, faded like that, kicks up a wave of fierce displeasure in the center of my chest.

She takes a step back, and I clear my throat before speaking.

“You’re not uninvited. As a matter of fact, I distinctly remember inviting you here.”

“To use your guest bath, not to turn your kitchen into back-of-house at the Olive Garden.”

She attempts to dodge again, sneaking a surprisingly quick hand around my side to grab a cutting board. Turning with all the grace of a dancer on the stage, she drops that into the sink as well, but I’m not about to concede.

“Hardly the Olive Garden. If I were handing out Michelin stars, you would have a dozen.”

Another huff of laughter, and another quick maneuver as she fakes left, then skirts around me back to the stovetop. “I think the most they give out is three.”

“Then they’ll have to reevaluate their ranking system.” I grab one handle of the pasta pot just as she grabs the other, and our gazes meet in a silent stand-off.

Just like outside the Raven, Ophelia breaks first.

It starts with a tremble in the corner of her lip, a tightening there like she’s trying her best not to lose her composure, and it ends with a breathless laugh slipping out despite those best efforts.

“God,” she says, shaking her head in apparent surrender. “You’re really good at that, you know?”

“Good at what?”

“At being a domineering ass, but also making it seem like you’re the most charming ass who ever existed.”

I wink. “Centuries of practice. Let me help you with this, at least?”

She relents, and we spend the next few minutes doing the dishes and putting the kitchen back to its prior pristine condition.

I’m almost sorry to see it so spotless.

Right back to the soulless showpiece of a room it usually is, I look away and switch off the light as Ophelia and I walk into the foyer.

“Audra told me Devin usually gets to the spot around nine,” she says, heading for the front door. “Leave here at eight tomorrow to head him off?”

She pauses at the threshold, waiting for my agreement.

I should give it and let her go.

Instead, I choose idiocy.

“There are three empty guest rooms upstairs,” I say lightly. Too lightly, in a tone that betrays how veryunlightly I’m taking the offer, but the words spill out before I can stop them. “You could take your pick, if you’d like a little extra space while you’re here.”

For a moment, I almost think Ophelia will take me up on the offer. Her gaze darts toward the stairs, and unmistakable interest flashes through those warm brown eyes before she catches herself and shakes her head.

“I… can’t. I’m already imposing too much on your hospitality.”

“A driveway and an outlet hardly qualify as hospitality.”

“And a bathroom. And a kitchen.”

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