Page 35 of House of Ruin
You’re going to beat me like your father beats your mother, huh?
There were too many things Blaze had been too blind to see. Too big of a coward to accept. And frankly, Alecto waspartlyresponsible for the shitstorm of emotions trying to suffocate him.
Blaze blinked rapidly as he realized Alecto was saying something. And he wasn’t listening.
Again.
“Blaze.” Alecto rubbed her palms over her face, growling into them softly.
Even though Blaze was to blame for her misery, he still couldn’t stop himself from laughing.
She was too cute—
Immediately, Blaze shut off the thought before it could go any further. “Okay, I’m here. What do you need me to do?’
Alecto looked at him, not convinced. “You know what you can do? You can make yourself useful and go fetch me some coffee. Get yourself some while you’re at it. And get a fucking planter for our garden. I’ve picked a plant we’re going to grow.”
Blaze nodded, swallowing the urge to argue.
Surprise flickered in Alecto’s gaze, but she blinked it away and willed her face to stay neutral. “Black—”
“Black, no sugar, no cream. I know, baby,” Blaze assured her, already walking away.
He could be useful.
As long as there were no long, boring-ass textbooks involved.
It took Blaze longer than expected, but he managed to fetch a planter.
Granted, he had to pay someone from the Snakes to go and bring him one because he couldn’t figure out where to find such thing.
But he’d done it.
And it’d been three hours of them sitting in the library, three pairs of coffee cups in front of them.
Right next to the planter.
With no plants in it.
“Son of a fucking bitch,” Alecto muttered, staring at it. As if that would make the plant sprout or some shit. “How fucking hard is it to grow motherfucking ivy?”
Humming a tune, Blaze leaned over the textbook, trailing a finger down the illustration of fire ivy, which was supposed to be lush with its golden-red leaves.
When it happened to be actually growing.
“I feel like there’s something we’re not doing right.” There was a deep line wedged between Alecto’s eyebrows.
“Clearly.” Blaze snorted.
That won him a mean glance and a not-so-gentle shove at his chest.
Laughing, Blaze pulled his cup of coffee closer, tightly wrapping his fingers around it. He inhaled the sweet scent of cinnamon and nutmeg as he watched the foam slowly deflating.
When he took a sip, it was sweet as candy, the orberry milk silky smooth over his tongue. Blaze closed his eyes and moaned at the taste of it.
Alecto was frowning when he opened his eyes, her lips curled in disgust. “Your taste is no better than a toddler’s.”
Blaze arched a brow. “Says the one who only has sweets for breakfast. Oh, but I suppose the black coffee that onlyaristocratsandintellectualsdrink evens that out.”
