poison you,” I smile. “I’ve figured out you’re on some bland baby food diet.”
I look in the fridge, trying to work out what I can cook for a vampire on a staple diet of blood. There’s plenty of meat to choose from. But my god, the joints in here will take hours to cook, and would easily feed two dozen.
“Go get my things from the car while I figure out what’s what in this kitchen,” I say, scanning the inbuilt oven that has way too many knobs and buttons.
“Oh, a domestic goddess,” he laughs, walking to the door.
I know he can eat flavourless foods, so I resort to the basics: eggs, butter, and cheese for a simple omelette. I search each cupboard for the utensils I’m going to need. It’s taking me an age to find stuff in here. I now have a bowl, whisk, frying pan, but no plates to serve on.
Adrien returns, I can’t see his face, he’s hidden behind the three wide boxes he’s carrying. He plonks them onto the floor next to the glass panel doors.
“Adrien, where are the plates?”
He shrugs his strong shoulders as he strolls over. He opens every cupboard and the further he gets down the kitchen worktop, the more he slams, bangs, and mutters in frustration.
“It’s fine, I’ll find something to use.”
“No it’s not. I specifically told Sara to get everything you’d need,” he stresses.
Okay, this is getting a little out of hand. The full fridge that’s going to rot away when there are starving people out there in the world. The hundreds of herbs and spices only I can eat, and his stress level over some missing plates is way over the top.
“Adrien, she’s a vampire and doesn’t really need to eat off plates,” I say. “Perhaps it slipped her mind. It’s nothing to worry about.” I bend and pull out two placemats from beneath the sink. “Look, these will do.”
“Elizabeth, we’re not going to eat off those. It’s a ridiculous idea.”
“Yes I am, and so are you.” I put them next to the carton of eggs. “You need to relax; try to be a little more human.”
“Fine,” he grumbles, walking to the door to go and fetch the rest of my things.
I see a digital radio beside a small black coffeemaker. Music might help me unwind, get our first meal on the go, and make this seem more real. I flick on the button and see the small green lit screen on aux usb, track one. Oh yeah, this is more like it . The silence has now been drowned out by some melodic dubstep. Music that reminds me of The Mill. I turn up the volume and whisk away, as Adrien goes through the panel doors with my boxes. I tilt my head to have a nosy at his firm backside, feeling lucky and loved.
I’ve managed to make meal number one in our new home. Okay, I’m serving it on black placemats, and it’s a tad charred around the edges, but I’m sure it’s edible.
I set the dining table, open a bottle of wine, and place Adrien’s egg only omelette down while calling him. He walks through, peering down at my attempts to garnish what looks crap with a sprig of parsley, amused.
“Wine?” I ask.
“Hold on, I have a better bottle than that.” He heads into the kitchen.
“So there’s a wine cellar here?” I ask as I take a seat.
He returns and pops the cork out of one of his vintage bottles.
“Unfortunately not. Although I may look into turning your closet into one, as soon as you don’t require it,” he says with a smile as he sits down.
He rotates the placemat, scrutinising his dinner. God, I feel bad for making him eat with me, when he clearly doesn’t want it. I try not to draw much attention to the fact I’m not so keen on eating mine either, as I move it around with my fork, noticing just how cremated it is. After all, a chef must be able to eat his own food. Just to prove that point, now I’ve got it inside my mouth, and the burnt bits are sticking to my teeth.
Adrien cuts off a small piece and reluctantly hovers it near his lips.
“It’s fine Adrien,” I say. “It’s bloody
I look in the fridge, trying to work out what I can cook for a vampire on a staple diet of blood. There’s plenty of meat to choose from. But my god, the joints in here will take hours to cook, and would easily feed two dozen.
“Go get my things from the car while I figure out what’s what in this kitchen,” I say, scanning the inbuilt oven that has way too many knobs and buttons.
“Oh, a domestic goddess,” he laughs, walking to the door.
I know he can eat flavourless foods, so I resort to the basics: eggs, butter, and cheese for a simple omelette. I search each cupboard for the utensils I’m going to need. It’s taking me an age to find stuff in here. I now have a bowl, whisk, frying pan, but no plates to serve on.
Adrien returns, I can’t see his face, he’s hidden behind the three wide boxes he’s carrying. He plonks them onto the floor next to the glass panel doors.
“Adrien, where are the plates?”
He shrugs his strong shoulders as he strolls over. He opens every cupboard and the further he gets down the kitchen worktop, the more he slams, bangs, and mutters in frustration.
“It’s fine, I’ll find something to use.”
“No it’s not. I specifically told Sara to get everything you’d need,” he stresses.
Okay, this is getting a little out of hand. The full fridge that’s going to rot away when there are starving people out there in the world. The hundreds of herbs and spices only I can eat, and his stress level over some missing plates is way over the top.
“Adrien, she’s a vampire and doesn’t really need to eat off plates,” I say. “Perhaps it slipped her mind. It’s nothing to worry about.” I bend and pull out two placemats from beneath the sink. “Look, these will do.”
“Elizabeth, we’re not going to eat off those. It’s a ridiculous idea.”
“Yes I am, and so are you.” I put them next to the carton of eggs. “You need to relax; try to be a little more human.”
“Fine,” he grumbles, walking to the door to go and fetch the rest of my things.
I see a digital radio beside a small black coffeemaker. Music might help me unwind, get our first meal on the go, and make this seem more real. I flick on the button and see the small green lit screen on aux usb, track one. Oh yeah, this is more like it . The silence has now been drowned out by some melodic dubstep. Music that reminds me of The Mill. I turn up the volume and whisk away, as Adrien goes through the panel doors with my boxes. I tilt my head to have a nosy at his firm backside, feeling lucky and loved.
I’ve managed to make meal number one in our new home. Okay, I’m serving it on black placemats, and it’s a tad charred around the edges, but I’m sure it’s edible.
I set the dining table, open a bottle of wine, and place Adrien’s egg only omelette down while calling him. He walks through, peering down at my attempts to garnish what looks crap with a sprig of parsley, amused.
“Wine?” I ask.
“Hold on, I have a better bottle than that.” He heads into the kitchen.
“So there’s a wine cellar here?” I ask as I take a seat.
He returns and pops the cork out of one of his vintage bottles.
“Unfortunately not. Although I may look into turning your closet into one, as soon as you don’t require it,” he says with a smile as he sits down.
He rotates the placemat, scrutinising his dinner. God, I feel bad for making him eat with me, when he clearly doesn’t want it. I try not to draw much attention to the fact I’m not so keen on eating mine either, as I move it around with my fork, noticing just how cremated it is. After all, a chef must be able to eat his own food. Just to prove that point, now I’ve got it inside my mouth, and the burnt bits are sticking to my teeth.
Adrien cuts off a small piece and reluctantly hovers it near his lips.
“It’s fine Adrien,” I say. “It’s bloody
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