room service?”
I somehow managed not to laugh at her. Of all of the things I had been told about Fenerec, the information about their relentless hunger had proved the most accurate. “Get whatever you want.”
“Would you like anything?”
“Sure, thanks. I’m not picky; get me whatever you’re having.” If Evelyn ordered too much, I didn’t care, especially if it removed the half-starved look she got at the restaurants. As an added bonus, if I let her eat her fill, it lowered my chance of ending up on the menu. I flushed and muttered curses under my breath. She didn’t want me on that sort of menu, and I wasn’t entirely convinced I minded her hunting me.
“Okay. Thanks, Jackson!” She sounded far too happy over something like ordering room service.
My frustrations welled up. I sank beneath the water, blowing bubbles as I sighed. When I surfaced, I wiped the suds off my face.
At the rate I was going, I’d need another cold shower before I could face her. Once again, I felt like a stupid fool for denying her when I wanted her probably as much as she seemed to want me. Until I knew her better, until I could commit to her as much as she deserved, I couldn’t do anything, no matter how much I desired her.
I was poised to lose my mind. A woman like Evelyn deserved better. Maybe it was her Fenerec nature making her want to keep me company—I certainly couldn’t imagine why else she would want me.
The death of her pack was partially my responsibility; I hadn’t exactly protested their execution. Maybe the Fenerec had been killed before the Inquisitors arrived, but I had agreed to drive the truck. I agreed with the fact Fenerec couldn’t be allowed to prey on unsuspecting Normals visiting Oconee National Forest.
My thoughts proved equal to being doused with a bucket of ice water.
Evelyn needed her own kind, not someone like me.
I drained the tub and toweled off, grumbling to myself. When I was almost finished dressing, a knock announced the arrival of room service. After the heat of the bath, I left my dress shirt open, compounding my rumpled appearance. I would need to shave before I met with Zachary tomorrow morning.
I never met with my fellow smugglers while sporting stubble or beard. I could count the times I let anyone see me without having freshly shaved on one hand, excepting Suzanne.
When I emerged from the bathroom, Evelyn was setting two plates on the room’s lone table. Lunch proved far more modest than my expectations, and I doubted a hamburger would satisfy her for more than an hour or two before she was ready to forage for something else to eat. With an impish grin, she waved a bottle of wine at me.
“Do you like red?” she asked, and without waiting for my answer, she poured two glasses.
“I don’t mind it.” With a tired groan, I collapsed onto one of the armchairs. “Good morning.”
“Afternoon,” she corrected, chuckling. “What do you like, if not red wine?” Instead of devouring her hamburger with silent intensity as she had in the restaurants, she sipped her wine, watching me.
I took up my glass, taking the time to breathe in the wine before sipping it. I didn’t usually care about the price tags of wines, but there was always something amusing about a good cheap bottle. “I used to drink Scotch.”
A good Islay had been my drink of choice before I had met Suzanne. Alcohol had frightened her, and for good reason. I had dutifully bowed to her apprehension, avoiding it unless necessary. She had understood business—within reason. After her death, I had stopped drinking in public when my friends and fellow Inquisitors had taken to introducing me to women.
Without fail, they had all shared too many similarities with my Suzanne.
Evelyn took another sip of her wine. “You smell sad. Why?”
I sucked in a breath. It felt like I stood on a precipice. If I told her the truth, I’d share things with her I hadn’t with anyone else, not even my twin brother. I
I somehow managed not to laugh at her. Of all of the things I had been told about Fenerec, the information about their relentless hunger had proved the most accurate. “Get whatever you want.”
“Would you like anything?”
“Sure, thanks. I’m not picky; get me whatever you’re having.” If Evelyn ordered too much, I didn’t care, especially if it removed the half-starved look she got at the restaurants. As an added bonus, if I let her eat her fill, it lowered my chance of ending up on the menu. I flushed and muttered curses under my breath. She didn’t want me on that sort of menu, and I wasn’t entirely convinced I minded her hunting me.
“Okay. Thanks, Jackson!” She sounded far too happy over something like ordering room service.
My frustrations welled up. I sank beneath the water, blowing bubbles as I sighed. When I surfaced, I wiped the suds off my face.
At the rate I was going, I’d need another cold shower before I could face her. Once again, I felt like a stupid fool for denying her when I wanted her probably as much as she seemed to want me. Until I knew her better, until I could commit to her as much as she deserved, I couldn’t do anything, no matter how much I desired her.
I was poised to lose my mind. A woman like Evelyn deserved better. Maybe it was her Fenerec nature making her want to keep me company—I certainly couldn’t imagine why else she would want me.
The death of her pack was partially my responsibility; I hadn’t exactly protested their execution. Maybe the Fenerec had been killed before the Inquisitors arrived, but I had agreed to drive the truck. I agreed with the fact Fenerec couldn’t be allowed to prey on unsuspecting Normals visiting Oconee National Forest.
My thoughts proved equal to being doused with a bucket of ice water.
Evelyn needed her own kind, not someone like me.
I drained the tub and toweled off, grumbling to myself. When I was almost finished dressing, a knock announced the arrival of room service. After the heat of the bath, I left my dress shirt open, compounding my rumpled appearance. I would need to shave before I met with Zachary tomorrow morning.
I never met with my fellow smugglers while sporting stubble or beard. I could count the times I let anyone see me without having freshly shaved on one hand, excepting Suzanne.
When I emerged from the bathroom, Evelyn was setting two plates on the room’s lone table. Lunch proved far more modest than my expectations, and I doubted a hamburger would satisfy her for more than an hour or two before she was ready to forage for something else to eat. With an impish grin, she waved a bottle of wine at me.
“Do you like red?” she asked, and without waiting for my answer, she poured two glasses.
“I don’t mind it.” With a tired groan, I collapsed onto one of the armchairs. “Good morning.”
“Afternoon,” she corrected, chuckling. “What do you like, if not red wine?” Instead of devouring her hamburger with silent intensity as she had in the restaurants, she sipped her wine, watching me.
I took up my glass, taking the time to breathe in the wine before sipping it. I didn’t usually care about the price tags of wines, but there was always something amusing about a good cheap bottle. “I used to drink Scotch.”
A good Islay had been my drink of choice before I had met Suzanne. Alcohol had frightened her, and for good reason. I had dutifully bowed to her apprehension, avoiding it unless necessary. She had understood business—within reason. After her death, I had stopped drinking in public when my friends and fellow Inquisitors had taken to introducing me to women.
Without fail, they had all shared too many similarities with my Suzanne.
Evelyn took another sip of her wine. “You smell sad. Why?”
I sucked in a breath. It felt like I stood on a precipice. If I told her the truth, I’d share things with her I hadn’t with anyone else, not even my twin brother. I
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