Page 20 of Blood Vows
“Everything smells wonderful,” I said, offering a small smile.
“Did you cook all this?” The woman looked up, her eyes softening as if she hadn’t expected me to speak to her at all.
“I did, dear. I’ve been preparing meals here for quite some time now.” I glanced between them, curiosity getting the better of me.
“Do you live here too?” However, before she could answer, Vas replied, his tone quiet but weighted.
“She lives in her own home. On the edge of the property.” Something in his voice made me pause. It was haunted, almost regretful, as if the very idea of anyone living here unsettled him. The woman’s eyes darted briefly to him, her expression tightening, though she said nothing.
“Well, it’s lovely to meet you,” I said softly, trying to ease the tension.
But when she looked back at me, her kind eyes were wary, as though she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to return the sentiment.
“I’m Nessa, what’s your name?” I asked then, trying to make conversation. The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut through bone. Vas’s chair scraped against the floor as he stood, the sound echoing like a warning.
“That’s enough. She doesn’t need to concern herself with who you are.” He said sharply, making us both flinch at his tone. Although, unlike me, she lowered her head.
“Of course, sir. I’ll leave you to it.” And just like that, she was gone, her footsteps retreating down the hall until only the crackle of the fire remained. I stared at him, the tension thick enough to feel in my throat.
“You didn’t have to be so harsh,” I said quietly. His eyes flicked to me, dark and unreadable.
“If you think that by befriending her, she will help you escape, you are mistaken.” My mouth fell open slightly, more at the accusation than the words themselves.
“I wasn’t trying to…” He raised a hand, cutting me off.
“Don’t insult us both with lies, little rabbit.” Again, I opened my mouth ready to defend myself when he added even more insight to his paranoid mind, telling me…
“I know the games females play.”
9
SEEING BEAUTY IN THE BEAST
Itook a slow breath, keeping my voice even as I pointed out,
“I was being nice. It’s what people do.”
He let out a low sound, something close to a laugh, though there was no trace of humor in it. Then he lowered himself back into his chair after his outburst at the poor housekeeper.
“You mortals and your need to be…nice,”he muttered, as if the word itself offended him.
“Perhaps you should try it sometime,” I said before I could stop myself. Something that earned me a look of half disbelief, half dangerous amusement. For a moment, I thought I saw the corner of his mouth twitch, like he wanted to smile but refused to let it happen.
“I think we have very different definitions of what it means to survive.” I frowned, wanting to ask him what he meant exactly, but I decided to let it go instead. He poured himself a glass of wine, its deep color glinting like blood in the light, then he motioned faintly toward the food as if inviting me to begin.
“Eat, before it grows cold.” I did as he said, though every bite felt like it was shared with the tension between us. The meal was delicious, yet every time I glanced at him, I couldn’t shake thefeeling that he was trying just as hard to swallow something far heavier than the food.
For a while, we ate in near silence. The air between us felt thick with all the words neither of us seemed willing to say. The clink of silver against porcelain filled the void, mingling with the soft crackle of the fire.
I couldn’t stand the silence much longer, so I cleared my throat softly and said,
“Thank you, by the way.” He looked up from his plate, one dark brow lifting.
“And for what are you thanking me for now exactly?” He said as if annoyed to hear those words again.
“The book,” I said, setting down my fork.
“The Count of Monte Cristo.” Something unreadable passed through his eyes, quick as a flicker of shadow.
