Page 25 of Snapped
Chapter 15 | Attraction Has a Mind of Its Own
Entering the kitchen, he recognized the woman at the stove straightaway. She turned, fixing him with an angry scowl. “What can I get for ya, Hector?” she asked, never taking her eyes off August.
Settling at the large table and grabbing a glass, filling it from the pitcher of water sitting in the middle of the table, Hector emptied it before responding. “It’s late, and I might have to watch an execution later.” He turned to glare at August. “So, something light—maybe a sandwich with a salad?”
Cook nodded, walking over to the fridge and gathering meat, cheese, and vegetables and setting to work making two sandwiches before filling a couple of bowls with lettuce, carrots, and tomatoes from the garden. She angrily chopped up a red onion, tossing the bits into the two bowls.
“Oh, I don’t like…”
She turned and snarled at August. “Don’t much care what you like; eat it or starve.” She all but threw the salad at him, gently setting Hector’s bowl down in front of him, handing them each a fork.
“What’s your name?” August asked.
“Cook,” she said curtly.
“No, everyone calls you Cook. But what is your name?” he asked again.
Cook paused, staring at him for a minute, eyes narrowed. “Nanny.”
Exasperated, August sighed. “Okay, you’re a cook and a grandmother, but what…”
Cook cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Name’s Nannette, but everyone calls me Nanny.” But she didn’t stop there. “And your name is August, but everyone calls you Augie. Your twin called you Augie when you were little because she couldn’t pronounce August, and it stuck. Damn shame ’bout that girl, Autumn, she was a gentle soul. But she done gone and got mixed up with the devil man and got herself killed. I ’spose that’s why you here, ain’t it, Augie?”
August was shell-shocked. He knew Cook was from his encampment—hell, it was her own grandson that had gotten Cillian and their group key pieces of information that would help them break into the palace. “I…you…how…” Apparently, comprehensive thought had flown out the window along with August’s common sense.
“Hmmph.” Cook shook her head. The look she offered him took August back many years to being a rambunctious child who, with the help of his twin sister, received the exact same look Cook was giving him on multiple occasions after the two of them got caught raising hell or destroying something—at times both. “You two are very much alike. I do hope you’ve pulled your head out of your ass now though, seein’s how that bastard left you here holding the bag.”
The elderly woman turned and threw a handful of potatoes and carrots into the pot of boiling stock as she continued to berate August.
She turned back to him, pinning August in place with a pointed stare, her eyes going from the bowl then slowly up to meet his eyes again, one eyebrow raised. Frustrated, he grabbed the fork and shoveled a mouthful of lettuce, tomato, and onion in before he was tempted to say something he might regret. Cook harrumphed again, turning back to stir the large pot on the stove. Unable to stomach more than a few bites, he pushed the bowl aside and picked up the sandwich, devouring it in no time.
When he looked up again, he caught Hector staring at him. August took note of how striking the man was. He eyed Hector, allowing himself ample time to imprint each and every aspect of Hector’s appearance in his mind. He was tall and lean, but the arms that extended from the cream-colored shirt he wore were toned, defined. Long brown wavy hair with slight streaks of gold framed an angular face. His eyes though, wow, those eyes, watching August with rapt fascination were amazing. Brown, opaque and alive, they sparkled as he continued to watch August. They gave way to a long, pointed nose that hovered above pert, proud, kissable lips that were surrounded by a smattering of dark facial hair. One corner of Hector’s delectable mouth lifted to form a cocky, self-assured grin, effectively breaking the haze of lust that overcame August at just the thought of exactly what Hector could do with his pretty mouth.
“Can I ask you a question?” Not bothering to form a spoken response to Hector’s question, he nodded. “What did you mean back there when you said this was your fault?”
“You caught that, huh?” August managed a self-deprecating laugh. How the hell could he answer the question without being killed? After all, he had been the one to tell Cillian that if he truly wanted to hurt his brother, he needed to go after Rian. Before he could answer the man with the odd brown eyes, his sister barreled into the room followed by the woman Autumn had loved and another man with wheat-colored hair and eyes the same color as August’s. Ah, so this was the Outkast the young Princess of House Gaeland had fallen in love with—Sawyer. He carried the child born of their forbidden relationship in his broad arms.
God almighty, damn.…Are all the men around here big, built, and positively gorgeous? Or is it just me? Fuck, I need to get laid in the worst way.August chuckled at his wayward thoughts, swinging all the attention in the room in his direction.
“You.” Aiya snarled at him. Her face morphed from happy to angry within a few seconds. She stepped toward him only to be stopped when both Sawyer and Maeve flung an arm out in front of her. “Why, exactly, is the man that tried to kill my wife having dinner at my kitchen table?” Aiya asked no one in particular, continuing to glare at August. Before her question could be answered, the pissed off man that wanted to drop August off the highest rooftop stormed into the kitchen.
“Time’s up, Hector.” He pointed at August. “Hoist yer arse up out of that chair, and let’s go find my husband.”
“What?” the twins shouted in unison, causing the aforementioned quiet bundle in Sawyer’s arms to shriek.
“Shit, sorry, Sawyer. Come here, baby.” Aiya cooed, taking the now-fussy infant and holding him over her shoulder, patting his back to soothe him.
“What do you mean, find your husband?” Aiyan shouted at his father, continuing to stare daggers at August.
Yammering so fast August could barely make out what was said, Cirian filled his kids in on the situation with Rian. Hector stood, handing the bowls to cook before turning back to August. “Let’s go, then.”
Before August could move over to where Hector was, Aiyan blocked his path, and August watched as his oddly colored brown eyes slowly ebbed away, eaten up by a vibrant, violent gold. Nostrils flared; the young Prince looked seconds away from strangling August and calling it a day. “If so much as one hair on my father’s head is out of place, I’m going to cut off your head with a dull butter knife, you get me, Outkast?”
Funny, they’d just met, but Hector seemed to sense what August was considering. A subtle shake of his head calmed August, though he wasn’t sure why. Aiyan stood still, focused only on August, so he responded with a quick dip of his head. Turning to leave, Aiyan stopped short. In the doorway to the kitchen, Sawyer stood, glaring at the Prince, arms crossed over his chest. The two seemed to be communicating with each other without speaking, and August couldn’t decide if they were fixing to go to blows or hug it out.
An unavoidable shiver wracked his body when Hector whispered in his ear, “No sudden moves, and please don’t feed the bears.” August’s body shook as he silently laughed. He could feel the heat from Hector’s body in such close proximity seeping through every pore.
“Tell me?” Hector asked softly. Nothing more needed to be said; August knew he was speaking of Rian.
