gaze.
Nicholaus tightened his grip on Katarina’s hand. The crazy ass old aunt of Katarina's still lived. If he had to guess, she'd probably outlived God. “Good to see you too, old witch.”
“Evening, Agí.” Katarina smiled sweetly.
“Bah. Deserters like you should starve. But we are Hungarian gypsies and wolves, hospitable to those in need.”
He studied her wrinkled face. She had to be in her late eighties by now. “ Igen . I always did have a soft spot for the gypsies among us. What are you doing up?”
Her eyes narrowed, emphasizing the wrinkles even more. “I heard she was coming back tonight and going to look for Krystyna. I had no idea she’d be bringing you . Oh well.” The old woman turned to face him, a mixture of anger and despair on her face. “I hope you can do what they say you can do.”
He straightened, crossing his arms over his chest. What the hell did they say he could do? And who was they anyway? “What do they say I can do?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t pay any mind to prophecy shit any more than the next fellow. But you’re taking care of my Katarina and helping her get back what belongs to her. That’s all I care about.” She turned to stir the stew once more. “Serve yourselves. I’m going to bed.”
“Night, old bat.” He growled.
“ Húzz a picsába!” Fuck off!
“Agí!” Katarina scoffed at the old woman but it didn’t matter. She’d already wandered down the hall and slammed her door shut.
“I’m surprised the old bitch is still alive. Or has nobody told her that she’s been dead since before I left?”
Katarina’s jaw dropped, eyes widened. “Nicholaus!” She slapped his shoulder.
He couldn’t stop the hearty laughter from bursting out even with Katarina’s glowering expression told him he shouldn’t have laughed.
“Food, then we retire.”
“Yes. And I’ll talk of anything but the obvious.” Why had he said that? She had to know he had no desire to discuss their relationship.
She frowned but made her way into the tiny kitchen. She stretched to retrieve a few bowls from the cupboards, giving Nicholaus a view of her round ass and the line of her body as it stretched. He couldn’t stop his cock from hardening but he could control himself enough to remain focused on eating. It had been a long day and his stomach’s rumble made him pay more attention to it than the desire to slake his lust in her warmth.
Katarina wiped hair back from her eyes, filled the two bowls and set them down on the table. She then filled two wine glasses half full and set one before him. “Eat. Drink.”
Carefully, Nicholaus pulled the chair back from the table, scraping it across the hardwood floor. The smells and sights of dinner made him long for things he couldn’t have. He cooked for himself back in America but the meals were usually spiceless, and fairly tasteless dishes designed to fill his stomach rather than stimulate his senses. Oh, he drank the finest, smoked the best cigars, but took no pleasure in eating.
Not like he had when he took his first bite of stew.
“You like?”
With a nod at Katarina, he continued to spoon food into his mouth as though his senses awoke with a vengeance. Instantly, the nourishing herbs and spices flowed through his body in the form of energy, pure essence of existence. He had no idea what the hell Agí did to make the food taste so good. Maybe it was just longing.
Or homesickness.
“You needed the nutrients, drága. You don’t eat like this back home?”
“No,” he took a sip of wine, set his glass down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The feral look in his eyes reflected in Katarina’s irises.
“You already look healthier. Why do you not take care of yourself?”
“No reason.” That was a lie. He let his self-care go because if the demon inside him reared out, it could do major damage but not if the physical body remained in a weakened state. Again, more protection for the world
Nicholaus tightened his grip on Katarina’s hand. The crazy ass old aunt of Katarina's still lived. If he had to guess, she'd probably outlived God. “Good to see you too, old witch.”
“Evening, Agí.” Katarina smiled sweetly.
“Bah. Deserters like you should starve. But we are Hungarian gypsies and wolves, hospitable to those in need.”
He studied her wrinkled face. She had to be in her late eighties by now. “ Igen . I always did have a soft spot for the gypsies among us. What are you doing up?”
Her eyes narrowed, emphasizing the wrinkles even more. “I heard she was coming back tonight and going to look for Krystyna. I had no idea she’d be bringing you . Oh well.” The old woman turned to face him, a mixture of anger and despair on her face. “I hope you can do what they say you can do.”
He straightened, crossing his arms over his chest. What the hell did they say he could do? And who was they anyway? “What do they say I can do?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t pay any mind to prophecy shit any more than the next fellow. But you’re taking care of my Katarina and helping her get back what belongs to her. That’s all I care about.” She turned to stir the stew once more. “Serve yourselves. I’m going to bed.”
“Night, old bat.” He growled.
“ Húzz a picsába!” Fuck off!
“Agí!” Katarina scoffed at the old woman but it didn’t matter. She’d already wandered down the hall and slammed her door shut.
“I’m surprised the old bitch is still alive. Or has nobody told her that she’s been dead since before I left?”
Katarina’s jaw dropped, eyes widened. “Nicholaus!” She slapped his shoulder.
He couldn’t stop the hearty laughter from bursting out even with Katarina’s glowering expression told him he shouldn’t have laughed.
“Food, then we retire.”
“Yes. And I’ll talk of anything but the obvious.” Why had he said that? She had to know he had no desire to discuss their relationship.
She frowned but made her way into the tiny kitchen. She stretched to retrieve a few bowls from the cupboards, giving Nicholaus a view of her round ass and the line of her body as it stretched. He couldn’t stop his cock from hardening but he could control himself enough to remain focused on eating. It had been a long day and his stomach’s rumble made him pay more attention to it than the desire to slake his lust in her warmth.
Katarina wiped hair back from her eyes, filled the two bowls and set them down on the table. She then filled two wine glasses half full and set one before him. “Eat. Drink.”
Carefully, Nicholaus pulled the chair back from the table, scraping it across the hardwood floor. The smells and sights of dinner made him long for things he couldn’t have. He cooked for himself back in America but the meals were usually spiceless, and fairly tasteless dishes designed to fill his stomach rather than stimulate his senses. Oh, he drank the finest, smoked the best cigars, but took no pleasure in eating.
Not like he had when he took his first bite of stew.
“You like?”
With a nod at Katarina, he continued to spoon food into his mouth as though his senses awoke with a vengeance. Instantly, the nourishing herbs and spices flowed through his body in the form of energy, pure essence of existence. He had no idea what the hell Agí did to make the food taste so good. Maybe it was just longing.
Or homesickness.
“You needed the nutrients, drága. You don’t eat like this back home?”
“No,” he took a sip of wine, set his glass down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The feral look in his eyes reflected in Katarina’s irises.
“You already look healthier. Why do you not take care of yourself?”
“No reason.” That was a lie. He let his self-care go because if the demon inside him reared out, it could do major damage but not if the physical body remained in a weakened state. Again, more protection for the world
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