The Caretaker of Showman's Hill (Vampire Romance) by Elizabeth Rose
Authors: Elizabeth Rose
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eat."
"She did?" He felt his body stiffen. He looked over to La Roux and scowled.
"I told her you eat borscht," La Roux broke in, looking at him quickly and then letting her gaze drop to the empty spot at the table. He knew she wanted him to sit, and though he didn’t want to join them, he found himself filling the vacant place.
"Oh . . . right. Borscht," he repeated, looking at the table and its occupants. A sudden flash of nostalgia flickered across his brain as he pictured himself sitting at the table with his parents for dinner, years and years ago. What an odd thing to remember.
As Cassie poured some steaming borscht into his bowl, a very old memory of his mother dishing out soup came to mind. Then as fast as it came – it left. He slowly picked up his spoon, remembering that Helga told him it was proper to use it. Immediately he felt Cassie’s vibrations running through it. He also felt a warming sensation that traveled from his fingers through his entire body. He threw the spoon down on the table in alarm.
"What's wrong?" asked Cassie. He looked up to see the confused look on her face. Innocence. So sweet and gullible that it made him angry.
"You've been using my spoon and bowl."
Cassie put the pot of soup back on the stove and sat down, folding her napkin on her lap, staying very calm and nonchalant.
"It was all I could find this morning." She picked up her fork and took a petite bite of salmon, then licked her lips. “I’m not sure what the problem is, after all, I washed it.”
All the while, her eyes stayed locked on him. He didn’t like the way she looked at him. He didn’t like the way his dormant emotions had gone out of control ever since she’d set foot in his establishment. He wanted her out of here. Now.
"Why are you still here?" he growled.
"I live here now."
"Like hell you do."
"I told her she could stay, Basil." La Roux looked at him sheepishly.
"You what?" he spat. He raised his hands so quickly, he knocked into his bowl of soup and spilled some on the table. Cassie quickly reached over the table with an extra napkin and wiped it up.
"I'm taking care of her, and in return she's giving me a place to live,” Cassie explained. She raised a glass of milk to her lips and Basil felt fire in his veins as he watched her swallow over and over. His eyes traveled down that long, beautiful, bare neck. The desire to taste it was strong, and he pursed his lips closed tight, hoping his fangs wouldn’t emerge.
"There doesn't seem to be any harm in it so far." Jack spoke without looking at him, continuously shoveling the food into his mouth. "Not to mention, she's one hell of a good cook."
"You've been a bachelor too damn long, Killian," Basil remarked. "Roots from the garden would probably taste good to you."
"Don't knock my cooking until you try it," Cassie challenged him.
The soup didn't look much different than Helga's brew. Basil’s stomach was telling him he was long past due for a meal, so he thought he may as well try it.
He didn't dare touch the spoon again. Just knowing her mouth touched it would drive him over the edge. He picked up the bowl in two hands and brought it to his lips.
Cassie cleared her throat, and he knew Jack and La Roux were staring at him, but he didn't care. He took a sip and tried to swallow. It was the worst borscht he'd ever tasted. He spat it on the ground and got to his feet.
"I take it you don't care for my cooking?" Cassie kept her face stone-like, but Basil read her mind. She had been trying to impress him by cooking him dinner. For god's sake, she liked him. He should probably have been flattered, but he was furious. He didn't want her to like him. He didn't want her to cook for him or do anything remotely nice in any way. He just wanted her to leave him alone and go back to her human life before she wound up dead or something even worse. He'd do whatever it took to get her out of there as fast as possible.
"You don't know how to cook, so don't
"She did?" He felt his body stiffen. He looked over to La Roux and scowled.
"I told her you eat borscht," La Roux broke in, looking at him quickly and then letting her gaze drop to the empty spot at the table. He knew she wanted him to sit, and though he didn’t want to join them, he found himself filling the vacant place.
"Oh . . . right. Borscht," he repeated, looking at the table and its occupants. A sudden flash of nostalgia flickered across his brain as he pictured himself sitting at the table with his parents for dinner, years and years ago. What an odd thing to remember.
As Cassie poured some steaming borscht into his bowl, a very old memory of his mother dishing out soup came to mind. Then as fast as it came – it left. He slowly picked up his spoon, remembering that Helga told him it was proper to use it. Immediately he felt Cassie’s vibrations running through it. He also felt a warming sensation that traveled from his fingers through his entire body. He threw the spoon down on the table in alarm.
"What's wrong?" asked Cassie. He looked up to see the confused look on her face. Innocence. So sweet and gullible that it made him angry.
"You've been using my spoon and bowl."
Cassie put the pot of soup back on the stove and sat down, folding her napkin on her lap, staying very calm and nonchalant.
"It was all I could find this morning." She picked up her fork and took a petite bite of salmon, then licked her lips. “I’m not sure what the problem is, after all, I washed it.”
All the while, her eyes stayed locked on him. He didn’t like the way she looked at him. He didn’t like the way his dormant emotions had gone out of control ever since she’d set foot in his establishment. He wanted her out of here. Now.
"Why are you still here?" he growled.
"I live here now."
"Like hell you do."
"I told her she could stay, Basil." La Roux looked at him sheepishly.
"You what?" he spat. He raised his hands so quickly, he knocked into his bowl of soup and spilled some on the table. Cassie quickly reached over the table with an extra napkin and wiped it up.
"I'm taking care of her, and in return she's giving me a place to live,” Cassie explained. She raised a glass of milk to her lips and Basil felt fire in his veins as he watched her swallow over and over. His eyes traveled down that long, beautiful, bare neck. The desire to taste it was strong, and he pursed his lips closed tight, hoping his fangs wouldn’t emerge.
"There doesn't seem to be any harm in it so far." Jack spoke without looking at him, continuously shoveling the food into his mouth. "Not to mention, she's one hell of a good cook."
"You've been a bachelor too damn long, Killian," Basil remarked. "Roots from the garden would probably taste good to you."
"Don't knock my cooking until you try it," Cassie challenged him.
The soup didn't look much different than Helga's brew. Basil’s stomach was telling him he was long past due for a meal, so he thought he may as well try it.
He didn't dare touch the spoon again. Just knowing her mouth touched it would drive him over the edge. He picked up the bowl in two hands and brought it to his lips.
Cassie cleared her throat, and he knew Jack and La Roux were staring at him, but he didn't care. He took a sip and tried to swallow. It was the worst borscht he'd ever tasted. He spat it on the ground and got to his feet.
"I take it you don't care for my cooking?" Cassie kept her face stone-like, but Basil read her mind. She had been trying to impress him by cooking him dinner. For god's sake, she liked him. He should probably have been flattered, but he was furious. He didn't want her to like him. He didn't want her to cook for him or do anything remotely nice in any way. He just wanted her to leave him alone and go back to her human life before she wound up dead or something even worse. He'd do whatever it took to get her out of there as fast as possible.
"You don't know how to cook, so don't
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