Page 26

ZAVIER

“ T hat is not edible. It’s still hard!” I protest, spitting out the pasta.

I might not have to eat human food for sustenance, but if I’m going to then it ought to taste good.

“It’s called al dente.” She pouts her perfect pink lips. “It’s supposed to have some form. If we cook it like you want it’ll be a mushy, wet mess. Trust the process.” Celine grabs the pot of boiling pasta and strains it through the colander sitting in the sink.

After a grocery run this afternoon, due to the lack of products in my fridge and pantry, we swung by Luna’s so Celine could get some coffee and I could sneak some blood bags.

When we got back, Celine made quick work of putting everything away. I grinned the entire time, because whether she realizes it or not she feels at home with me.

After she decided she wanted pasta, we began cooking together side by side. It’s an oddly intimate activity, which I hadn’t expected. Celine brushing against me to grab a utensil, me reaching over her to grab a hard-to-reach plate, and small smiles she sends my way every now and then.

She’s letting her guard down little by little.

Midnight observes from his perch on top of the fridge like he’s Gordon Ramsey. Every little bit, he’ll interject like we’ve gone about the process wrong. Cat thinks he’s a human, I swear.

“This is how my dad always did it. I promise it’ll work out in the end.” Steam billows out of the metal bowl and disperses in the air. “Do you have the egg mixture ready?”

I crack my last egg as she says to stir to combine with parmesan and parsley. The counter looks like a warzone since I’m not particularly good at keeping things tidy.

“Got it right here.”

She grabs it from me and pours it over the pasta now in the skillet resting on the stove with cooked bacon. Her arm works furiously stirring it around until it’s all evenly coated and the egg is cooked within the heat of the bacon grease and fresh pasta.

“Can you hand me the heavy cream? It’s time to add that, too.”

Her tongue sticks out adorably in concentration. I’m not sure she’s even aware she’s doing it.

I grab the cream and pass it over. She pours it into the mixture and gets back to stirring. I’d take over and help but I’m enjoying watching her way too much for that.

“This smells delicious.” I sneak behind Celine and wrap my arms around her middle. Her dark berry scent is delectable, and I can’t help but nuzzle her neck. The beating pulse of her heart accelerates, tempting me to do something I know she’s not ready for. “My little chef.”

“Don’t say that before you’ve tried it.” Her back settles into my chest. “You might think it’s terrible.”

“Never,” I scoff.

I kiss Celine’s cheek before letting go and grabbing the now finished peas from the microwave. Out of my peripheral I see her rub the spot my lips left with a small smile.

Cute.

“Do you want these added in too?” I pull a spoon out of a drawer.

“Bring them over to the island and we can add however much we want to our bowls.” Celine shuts off the stove top and sets the finished pasta skillet on the waiting potholder.

Our placemats sit ready with plates and silverware. We each dish up a portion of the carbonara and dig in.

Creamy sauce sticks to the noodles and I spear a large portion on my fork. Shoving the enormous bite into my mouth, I’m shocked at the taste. It’s delicious and the wait was well worth it, not that I’m complaining about spending time with Celine.

Celine’s pink tongue darts around her pasta and the moan she lets out is downright sinful. I feel my cock tightening in my pants. I close my eyes, counting to ten in an effort to calm myself.

We don’t talk much as dinner goes on, the delicious food consuming our focus.

I do find out a few more of her favorite things by asking silly questions simply because I can’t help myself.

I fill my plate with thirds while Celine finishes off seconds.

By the time we’re done we’re both nursing a food baby and reluctant to clean up our mess.

I haven’t eaten that much human food in one go in a long time.

“My dad always said a good cook cleans as he cooks but we have not heeded that advice, have we?” Celine laughs and pats her flat stomach as we both face the mess.

I eye her hand on her stomach, thinking about what she might look one day round with my child.

“First to clean their dishes wins,” I blurt out to derail my thoughts and rush to the sink.

“Wha—” Celine sputters, but wastes no time in bumping me out of the way.

I could easily win the challenge put forth, but I find I don’t want to. Seeing the competitive gleam in her eye is a welcome sight after everything. She’s tried to hide it well, but I’ve seen the disquiet within her brown eyes. She’s more shaken up over the break-in than she wants to admit.

“Done!” she shouts triumphantly. “What do I win?”

Truth to be told I hadn’t thought that far ahead and follow my gut.

I plant a kiss on her nose and enjoy the shock that floods her features.

“That’s it?” Celine breathes, the air in the room suddenly getting sucked out.

“I’ve wanted to do it since you poured the noodles into the pot,” I admit.

“Oh.” She rocks back on her heels before seeming to come to a decision. “Kind of a lousy prize. I think you can do better.”

I’m shocked at my little vixen’s boldness, but I don’t have to be told twice.

Advancing toward her with the grace of a panther, I lift her by her curvy hips onto the counter. Wedging her legs open I lean toward her so we’re chest to chest. Both breathing heavy, we simply exist together in this moment in time.

Celine traces a line around both of my brows, and I push an errant strand of hair behind her ear. She leans an arm across my shoulder and pulls me closer with her other.

“I might’ve thought about it too,” she whispers as our noses touch.

“Yeah?” I moan at the sensation of her body pressing into mine.

Celine tugs my hair, and my fingers splay on the counter, digging into the granite hard enough to leave behind a dent.

I quickly raise my hands, hoping I didn’t do enough damage for her to notice.

I lean into her, inhaling the scent at her neck.

I could easily lay her out here and make a meal out of her.

As our lips brush, a timer goes off on the stove and we jump apart.

“Fuck,” Celine breathes. “Forgot to turn that off.”

I back away in disappointment, but not before making sure she feels every hard inch of me as she slides off the counter.

Celine excuses herself to change as I turn off the timer.

I hear her milling about in my bedroom and the shower cut on a second later.

The visual of her naked and wet in a shower is doing nothing for my raging hard-on.

“Midnight,” I grind out. “Your mother is going to be the death of me. Not the literal death, since I can’t die easily, but at least the death of my dick.”

“Meow.”

I sigh, “Thanks, bud.”

Celine finishes her shower and pads out into the living space with bare feet and dressed in a pair of tiny blue cotton shorts and a matching tank.

Fucking temptress.

She knows what she’s doing to me.

“I’m going to shower,” I mumble, passing her by.

My cock practically cries in protest at leaving her behind. But it’s not time. Not yet.

After my shower I find her curled up on the couch under a fleece blanket. Midnight blinks over at me from his cat bed where he kneads the fabric in the corner.

I settle beside her on the couch, grabbing her ankle and carefully pulling her legs to settle in my lap. She gives me a lazy, tired smile in return and adjusts the blanket so it’s over both of us.

There’s a movie on, something gory and hilarious that instantly sucks me in.

About an hour later, movement out of the corner of my eye has me looking at Celine.

Dark lashes brush the tops of her cheeks where she’s starting to doze.

I watch her struggle to keep her eyes open and slowly slide further to the side of the couch before I give in and gently pick her up.

Walking slowly to not jostle her, I lay her prone form on the mattress.

I pull back the comforter and place her on top of the sheets.

She doesn’t say anything, just mumbles sleepily when I shut off the lamp and tuck her in.

I take a second to sit on the edge of the bed and watch her surrender to sleep.

Her long dark hair is free of its typical confines and splayed across my pillow.

The sweet sound of her breaths fills the space, and her chest rises and falls steadily.

The stiff peaks of her nipples poke against the thin fabric of her tank top.

The soft swells of her breasts tease me each time she inhales.

I stroke her cheek as gently as possible without waking her up. She smiles softly in her sleep at my touch and it feels like some sort of victory. Even unconscious, she knows she’s safe with me. I would never hurt her, nor would I let anyone else harm her.

Anger surges, because someone did hurt her. Maybe not physically, but they invaded her personal space, ransacked her entire apartment, and made her feel incredibly violated.

Soft mumbles and a furrow in her brow encourage me to leave the bedroom. My rage is starting to become palpable and the last thing I want to do is wake her. I need to go kill something. Or someone.

Certain she’ll be safe in my apartment after I secretly had state of the art security installed while she slept last night, I give Midnight a pat where he sleeps curled up and make my way out of the building and downstairs.

My phone dings and I glance at the screen. A slow smile spreads over my face.

Perfect fucking timing.

Death’s Assistant: I have a target for you.