Page 107 of The Midnight Order
Milly gasps through her shock, dropping the towel she’d been folding to the ground. “That’s treasonous talk!”
I chuckle. “It’s alright, Milly. Thank you. Please tell Mark that I’ll need an extra set of clothing added to my bag. Something else has come up that I’ll need to handle while I’m gone.”
“Yes, Master Jasper.”
Silver eyes me, glee floating in her blue pools.
“She refers to all of us as Master. It’s respect.”
“Oh.”
There’s a moment of silence between us. Silver pops a bite of apple into her mouth from the pile of slices on her plate, her eyes locked on mine.
“Where are you going on your trip?” she asks.
“Out of the country for a stint. Research into you, and a business meeting that I’ve been putting off far too long.”
“I thought you couldn’t leave Blackmoore.”
“We don’t leave Blackmoore, but we can. It’s pertinent we stay within the wards, in case a potential key to the curse wanders through, but since I’m fairly certain that you’re that key, I can attend to some matters I’ve been putting off.”
There go her cheeks again.
I reach up and thumb through the beautiful coloring on them.
“Can I come? If you’re going to research me, I should be allowed to go.”
“I—” I don’t know how to answer. Of course, I’d jump at the chance to spend alone time with her; in fact, it’s almost expectedthat we all spend alone time with her to further our bonding along, but the thing is: Lowell.
“I don’t know how Lowell will feel about that. I know the other two won’t like it either, now that they’ve had a taste of you.”
Her cheeks’ coloring deepens, and I growl before I can stop it from spilling out.
Leaning forward, I capture her chin between my thumb and forefinger. “I need you to stop blushing before I do something I won’t be proud of.”
She exhales, and it smells faintly of the coffee she’s been chugging. “Half of me wants to know what you’ll do. Does that make me reckless?”
“Fuck no. It makes you perfect.”
She beams, and I capture her lips.
This time, it’s not a quick embrace.
She parts my lips with her coffee-flavored tongue, and the notes of the cinnamon toast she’d been eating dance on the tip of mine as she caresses it.
My hand slides into her hair.
Her breathing quickens.
She’s an addiction, and I don’t want to fight it.
“Shit,” I say as I feel hunger rise to the surface and my fangs descend.
I know my eyes have changed, and the veins on my neck have turned black. They’ll have changed on my face, too, but she can’t see that.
“Sorry.” I stand and breathe through the thirst that burns its way up my throat.
Fuck, when was the last time I ate?
