Page 91 of Angelika Frankenstein Makes Her Match
(He showed her.)
“‘My passion is—’”
“Read,” he growled, and she felt the vibration.
She whimpered out the last sentences. “‘My passion is all forms of botany, and gardening was the labor I gladly undertook at the seminary. I cannot think of an earthly pleasure more exquisite than putting my face to the petals of a rose.’”
“Indeed.”
“How sweet and innocent you were,” she said to the ceiling. “What have I done to you?”
“Concentrate on what I’m doing to you.”
She obeyed, and this time when she unfurled in rapture, she said his name with more conviction: “Arlo.”
***
Memories of his old life were returning to Arlo Northcott, in snips and pictures and smells, but it seemed a shame to worry Angelika about it. She was happy tonight, and for the first time since he’d known her, she had no apprehension in her expression.
She looked at him like she was rapturously in love, but then again, she always had.
Arlo’s cobbled-together body never felt hungry, but he made sure to eat enough dinner to not arouse concern. Angelika noticed his every mouthful—again, she always had. And while Victor told a lively story about a goose hiding in a hedgerow that had caused Athena to shy and himself to fall, Arlo allowed himself the luxury of staring back at Angelika, noticing how the firelight cupped her cheekbone like a warm kid glove.
(Arlo’s father—whose name eluded him still—had owned a pair of kid gloves, and the fingertips were oily-looking and worn smoother than baby’s skin. When they were left on the table by the door, they remained curled in disgusting phantom fists.)
There were surely only a few days left before Arlo’s fingertips dipped into unfeeling, oily shadow.
“Jelly,” Lizzie said around a mouthful of bread, “after you were accosted in the orchard, where did you disappear to, for an entire night and day?” The naughty girl knew exactly where, and her dark eyes were sparkling.
“I was busy,” Angelika drawled, then bit her lip to hold in whatever she was thinking now. It was for the best.
“I don’t want to know,” Victor advised from his seat at the head of the table. “Anyhow, it’s a pity Chris insisted on the night watch removing the corpses. I would have reanimated them all, just to kill them again myself.”
“Your huge representative handled it,” Angelika replied. The memory made her reach for her glass and take a gulp. They were both their usual sardonic selves, but Arlo had seen the siblings embrace in the hall.
Victor was monitoring Lizzie’s plate. He was similar to his sister; they both loved so ravenously. “Eat up, Lizzie. The chicken is succulent. Sorry, Will,” Victor amended to Arlo. “I hope your vegetables are just as good.”
“They’re fine, thank you,” Arlo replied. He could pick the exact moment Victor made a mental note to question his diet during his next examination. It would make a change from the same questions over and over:Are you still fatigued? Are you healing? Is your pain any less? Can I trouble you for a sample of your seed?
Yes, no, no—and absolutely not.
“Well, I want to know what’s been going on. Tell me later,” Lizzie told Angelika on a whisper, and the table fell silent.
Arlo scraped his knife and fork on his plate to keep up appearances. When the big green eyes opposite turned back to him, he forked up a hearty mouthful and chewed. Satisfied, Angelika wrinkled her nose at him fondly. Arlo imagined her questions later:Was your dinner nice? Are your hands all right? Are you feeling so much better?
He answered now, in his mind.I will lie to your beautiful face and tell you what you want to hear, because I would die to make you happy.
Perhaps I should rephrase that thought.
He didn’t think himself so clever that he could guess her every question, because in bed she’d asked him things that had left him floundering for a reply.
(When you do that, can you put your fingers in me... here? If I touch you there, would that be all right? What about if I suck you while you lick—)
“They’ve both gone glassy-eyed again,” Lizzie complained. “It’s like sitting with a pair of corpses. No offense, Will.”
Arlo laughed. “None taken. Eat a little more,” he encouraged Angelika, and felt a new glow in his chest as she took a bite. Who looked after her, really? With Mary gone, it was up to him now. “Are you cold?”
Angelika shook her head, and pointed her fork at Lizzie, then her brother. “Now you can see what you pair have been like to live with.” (They were suitably contrite.) “I am perfectly entitled to sit here in an exhausted puddle and replenish my strength. I’m surprised that Ar—my love doesn’t need a second plate.”
