Page 88 of Chain Me

I grinned wickedly; the poor man had no idea how daunting a challenge he’d just undertaken.

* * *

“Even slices,” Dublin instructed.

I chafed at how damn patient he managed to sound—despite the fact that I’d already butchered at least two loaves of bread. Relentlessly gentle, his fingers slid over my spine as he adjusted my grip on the blade with his opposite hand. I tried not to agonize over what served to be my fifth attempt.

“Try again.”

“Okay…” I inhaled with determination and lowered the blade. What began as a semi-clean slice quickly resulted in a deformed chunk of mush as the knife slipped and smashed the loaf entirely. “Damn it!” I tossed the blade aside and tore at my hair. “I give up!”

My own challenge be damned.

Ironically, this task had proved to frustratememore than Dublin. And the more aggravated I became, the more insufferably patient he seemed determined to be.

“Try again.” He returned the knife to my hand, sealing his grip over mine. Parting, his lips brushed my throat as he warned, “You apply far too much pressure. Now”—he positioned what little bit of bread remained before me—“all you need to do is guide it…”

He flexed our combined grip and the result was a perfectly uniform slice.

“Now, you.”

I did my best to copy his easy, effortless motion. Lost in concentration, I closed my eyes midway and reopened them only when the blade hit the cutting board.

“Finally!” I exclaimed in relief. My prize wasn’t as neat as his, but at least it was useable.

“Good. And now for the next step.” Dublin moved to a different section of the counter and coated the slices in butter. Then he slipped a slice of cheese in between them and fried the creation in a hot pan.

I grinned with unabashed pride as he finally placed the meal on a plate. “Next time, I want you to teach me how to fillet a fish,” I joked as I followed him into the dining room.

He had enough sense not to respond.

While I’d been distracted during the bread debacle, he must have conjured up the steaming bowl of tomato soup, which he placed beside me as well. One sniff and I registered the unusually salty undertones to the tomato aroma. It betrayed an ingredient not found in most variations of the dish.

“Where’s Dmitri?” I wondered as I lifted a spoon. Given his request to “tag along for the ride,” his absence puzzled me more than I wanted to admit. While he was no comparison to Dublin physically, I couldn’t deny that the man possessed more than enough skill in manipulation to be a threat nonetheless.

And while my sanity wasn’t the healthiest to begin with, I’d never heard voices.

Certainly none so persistent. So insidious. Even as I ate, a cruel taunt echoed on the outskirts of my thoughts.He doesn’t want you…

Clearing my throat, I pushed the unease aside and refocused on Dublin. “Don’t tell me his promise for ‘answers’ turned out to be yet another lie?”

“He’s around,” Dublin said coldly. “He’ll return soon enough. I won’t have him toy with your hopes again. Therefore, I suggested that he ensure his information beaccuratebefore sharing it.”

“Or?” I risked asking as I fiddled with my sandwich.

His eyes narrowed, glowering beyond me. “Or I’d slice him into pieces thin enough to fit within the pages of his goddamn books.”

Ah.A threat far too specific to be a mere boast.

Rather than linger on the topic, I busied myself with sipping from my soup and devouring the surprisingly good sandwich. Perhaps the full belly lulled me into a state silly enough to question, “Have you ever been in love?”

I flicked my gaze across the table, gauging his reaction.

He gave me little to go on. Merely a furrowed brow. “Love?”

“Something beyond mere lust.” I waved my fingers through the air. “In your old age, I’m sure you’ve plied plenty of women with heartfelt poetry and roses.” I laughed, but the joke turned out to be at my expense.

Of course, he’d had others. He’d all but alluded to it.