“I can get it.” Last thing he wanted to do was put more on her plate.
“As you wish.” She returned her attention to the few dishes that were in the sink.
Oliver stepped inside the “pantry”—what mere mortals referred to as a decent-size bedroom—snagged a loaf of bread from one of the many shelves, grabbed the gallon jar of peanut butter, headed back out, then over to the complicated contraption they called a toaster oven. What happened to the good ol’ spring-loaded thing that launched the toast high in the air when it was perfectly browned on both sides in like two minutes? This ridiculous thing had about fifty settings and took three times as long to make toast.
Resigned to spending a good portion of his twenties waiting for bread to brown, he tucked two pieces inside, began punching buttons, because toasting bread had been relegated to a fucking science and this thing had all the buttons to prove it. Once the heating coils were flaring red behind the little glass door, Oliver tied the plastic bread bag off and replaced it in its home in the enormous pantry that had its own stairway leading down to a wine cellar fit for a kingdom.
When he returned, there was a fancy glass plate and a sterling silver butter knife on the counter beside the peanut butter.
Oliver peered over his shoulder at Emily. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the way she kept her chin tucked down as though he might not possibly be able to figure out she was the one who’d brought the utensils over. She was the only other person in the kitchen. How would he not know?
While he waited the remaining six minutes to toast bread, he turned around to face Emily, crossing his arms over his chest. “So, how’s it going? You like it here?”
Pretty brown eyes lifted to meet his. “I do, actually. It’s quite pleasant.”
“What did you do before?”
Her eyes quickly lowered. “That I do not recall. It was part of the agreement.”
“Agreement?”
Her attention remained on her dishes. “Yes. Aside from recalling that this was a choice I made, to come here, I do not remember anything about my past.”
Wow. That … kinda sucked. Who would want to spend all their days living their life only to have their memories yanked away from them? Well, clearly Emily since she’d evidently agreed to it. But still.
“Was it worth it?” he asked, wishing he could take the words back as soon as they were out.
“I… In my humble opinion, I believe it was, yes. This is an opportunity to serve my Lord and Savior; therefore I find it quite worth it.”
Well, then. Didn’t he just feel like a dickhead.
“And you?” she asked. “How do you like it here?”
It was his turn to drop his gaze. “It’s fine. I enjoy the work.”
“As do I,” she added, as though he’d suggested otherwise.
When she resumed her scrubbing of the dishes, Oliver watched her. It was hard to pinpoint her exact age, but he had to assume she was somewhere in her mid- to late-twenties. In human years, anyway. Here in the land of immortals, age was irrelevant—quite literally just a number—so their physical appearance could bely their actual number of years since, like angels and apparently vampires, heurosp didn’t age the same as humans.
But she was pretty in a sweet, innocent way. Long blond hair that she kept up in a ponytail, kind brown eyes, and a warm smile. Those were the things he’d noticed about her since her arrival. It was the sort of thing he noticed with most of the heurosp who wandered the estate taking care of the lot of them. For instance, Jeffrey: brown eyes, light brown hair, eager to take care of everyone. And then Phillip, who he suspected was the BMOC: dark brown hair, pale blue eyes, and a quick smile. Oliver was pretty sure Jeffrey and Phillip were a couple, but he figured asking was a violation of their privacy. They seemed happy, whatever their relationship, and that was all that really mattered.
Ding!
Finally. Two days later, he had lightly toasted bread.
Turning back to his task, Oliver slid out the pieces of crusty brown bread, slathered each with peanut butter, smashed them together, then returned the PB to the pantry where he’d gotten it. When he returned, there was a linen napkin, a perfectly ripened banana, and a glass of milk sitting beside his plate.
He peered over at Emily, noticed she was blushing sweetly.
“Thanks, Em,” he said. “You’re far too kind.”
“You’re more than welcome, sire.”
Shaking his head at the title she used, he carried his plate and glass into the breakfast nook—though nook seemed to imply it was a small area and this one held a table that sat at least twenty-four people. It was used for meals that weren’t eaten in the enormous dining room (think commercial cafeteria). Many times, he would see one of the heurosp having their meal in there, and he briefly wondered if Emily would’ve joined him if he’d asked.
Oliver closed his eyes and sighed. No, he didn’t wonder.
Because it wasn’t his place.
He seriously needed to get a grip.
So he did, using both hands to tilt his sandwich up to his mouth. With his first bite, he groaned in pleasure.
Plop.
Peering down the front of his shirt, he sighed again.
“You dropped some.”
His head jerked up to see Kaj passing down the hallway, his finger aimed directly at Oliver’s shirt. The vampire offered a grin and kept on going.
Oliver glanced down, shook his head at the melted peanut butter running in a river down the front of him.
If he had any luck at all, it was shit luck.
With a grunt, he lifted the sandwich to his mouth and mentally gave the shit luck the finger.
It replied by dropping another load of peanut butter.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
Chapter Two
Alpha vampire radar.
Yep, Acadia had it, and right now, it was homed in on the male who was circling back through the kitchen after going … wherever he’d gone. The first time he’d passed, Kaj had been focused on Oliver’s peanut butter fiasco, so she’d been given a reprieve. Thinking she was safe, she had remained right where she was.
Should’ve known better.
Now that radar was beeping loudly in her brain, seeming to grow louder the closer Kaj got. That was how it worked, as though they were tethered in some way. Part of it had to do with the fact that her blood ran in his veins, but she suspected there was something else that connected them, something deeper. Perhaps it was all the time they’d spent together back when she’d first learned of his existence, back when he’d suffered a near-fatal injury. After all, it had been during those six months that she had fallen in love with the male. That pure, unfettered love that would withstand time and tragedy, even if they were not together.
Not that she’d shared as much with him. Kaj had far more important things to worry about than her and her broken heart.
And it was most definitely broken. More so because she’d learned he was feeding from another.
Ever since he’d been injured during Eevuhl’s attack on the mansion, Kaj had taken to feeding from one of the other Fae. And because he’d rotated through them, she couldn’t quite place who it was. Not that it mattered. The Fae weren’t the ones who had betrayed her. That had been Kaj. Initially, she’d been hurt by the disloyalty, then angry. Now that some time had passed, Acadia was merely resigned to the fact she and the male were not destined to be together, despite what he had told her.