Page 46 of Curses & Cold Brew
“Are you threatening to scissor me?”
Her gasp of surprise sent me into another fit of laughter.
“Ramona!” she chastised, waving the glue gun at me.
Lucifer, I loved the way her cheeks pinked up for me.
The timer on the oven took my attention away.
“Dinner’s ready,” I announced before I took a couple of plates out of the cupboard. “Wash your hands.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Iris slipped behind me, her hip brushing mine as she turned on the tap. The smell of her cut through the plump shrimp, lush butter, and wine sauce I was spooning over the nests of coiled spaghetti. She smelled like rosemary, amber, and incense—a warmth that mirrored her soul. Everything about her was inviting and cozy and tinged with electrifying spice.
“Wine?” I held up the bottle of the Chardonnay I’d used to make the sauce and Iris nodded.
There was over half the bottle left, and it would be a shame to waste it in the fridge. And I felt like I needed some liquid courage as I danced so close to something I was afraid to name.
I picked up the plates and set them on the island, where I ate all my meals. The table felt too formal and empty. Iris came to sit next to me and without hesitation began to dig into her shrimp scampi. She devoured half her plate before she slowed and gave a satisfactory hum.
I grinned, watching in delighted fascination as she feasted on my cooking.
“This is amazing, by the way,” she complimented around through a mouthful. “I can’t remember the last time someone cooked for me.” She pushed at a shrimp on the edge of her plate.
“I can’t remember the last time I cooked for someone.” I stole a glance over at her and saw a twitch at the corner of her mouth.
“Did you ever cook for Esme?”
I had a feeling she wasn’t talking just about cooking. “Never.”
I could tell her line of questioning was far from over, so I offered an explanation that didn’t feel like I was cutting my abdomen open and spilling my entrails all over my polished wood floor: “Esme and I became friends at a dark time in my existence. The Pope had just embraced the practice of exorcising demons and the like back to hell. It was relentless, not to mention painful. Nothing quite like being ripped out of a body. And every time I battled my way back earthside, having to start fresh, my ledgers wiped clean, I’d immediately be cornered by exorcists or hunters again. Veryen voguefor the times. But then Esme saved me from an ambush in central Europe.”
The memory of that night burned brightly. The blood flooding the alleyway, how she’d refused to drink from the men who’d called her an abomination. But spilling their blood and leaving it to rot had fed her in different ways too.
“It took us a few more run-ins to form a bond. I owed her my life and repaid her, then she repaid me. On and on, around the world we went until we ended up in New York City. By then, we were inseparable. But I was blinded by friendship and I didn’t recognize that she was the reason hunters were always finding us. She left a trail of bodies in her wake. When we made our way to Maple Hollow, she’d promised to stop. To embrace a quieter life. She lied.”
“That’s when the hunter came to Maple Hollow,” Iris supplied.
She was sitting so close to me now that our knees touched under the island. The barest contact had heat coursing through me.
I nodded. “The witches in the coven at the time helped banish her from the town, along with what was left of the vampire clan. She couldn’t have returned unless someone powerful within several miles of the county line invited her back. I still have no idea who did it.”
“Avery?” Iris mused. “She said she spotted her a few towns over. Maybe she did more than she’s saying?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I’m surprised they trusted you enough to not invite her back.”
I huffed out a bitter laugh. “Me too.”
“Then who was it who welcomed her? Who’s more powerful than you?”
“That is what I’ve been asking myself since the day of the knitting circle,” I replied, the delicious meal souring in my stomach. “And I still don’t have answers.”
“We’ll figure it out. Then I’ll be out of your hair . . . and house.”
I don’t want that.
The knee-jerk reaction in my belly was proof.
