The Caretaker of Showman's Hill (Vampire Romance) by Elizabeth Rose Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Rose
Ads: Link
just shook his head, and La Roux’s smile disappeared. “I won’t be joining you after all,” she told Cassie. She glanced at her watch. “I didn’t realize how late it was. I guess I'd better wake up the girls. We've got a business to run here."
Basil gave her a nod of approval at her answer, and she marched up the stairs.
Cassie still stood there, a bowl in each hand, awaiting an answer from him.
"Don't look at me.” He pushed off the bar stool and wiped his hands on his pants. “I don't eat the damn stuff."
"Well if you don’t eat strawberry ice cream then what do you eat?" Her cocky attitude was back, and for some reason it annoyed him.
He pushed past her into the kitchen and made his way to the fridge.
"None of your business."
He grabbed a jar of blood from the back of the fridge. Then he came over to her and took the bowl from her hand.
"May I?"
She smiled and handed him the bowl. He read her mind and almost laughed. She was pleased with herself, thinking she’d succeeded in getting him to eat it.
He walked over to the sink and dumped it in.
"What are you doing?" Cassie rushed up and peered over his shoulder.
"Where'd you get these bowls and plates?" he asked.
"I couldn’t find any dishes. I figured that girl upstairs had them all in her bag. I didn’t want to bother her, so I bought more."
"They'll come in handy for feeding time."
He opened the jar and poured some of the liquid into the bowl.
"Feeding time? You mean dinner. You sure have a strange way with words."
"I mean feeding time." He screwed the top on the jar and handed it to her. "Put this back in the fridge."
Cassie sighed in defeat and headed toward the fridge, doing as he commanded.
"Oh, so you like your borscht cold?" she asked, obviously trying to understand him. “That’s why you didn’t eat yours earlier?”
"No, I like it hot. And for your information, this isn't borscht."
"Then what is it?" One hand on the fridge, Cassie inspected the jar with her other.
Basil looked at her and smiled. He shouldn’t toy with her like this, but she deserved it. After all, she’d caused him enough trouble. Now he’d have a little fun of his own.
"It's something much better than borscht, Cassie."
"Really?” She inspected the jar again, seeming very interested. “Some kind of wine?"
"No,” he responded, looking forward to her next reaction. “Cassie, it's blood."
Chapter 8
Cassie's fingers involuntarily dropped the jar. As if in slow motion, she watched it fall to the floor. It should have broke. It should have shattered into a million pieces and bled all over the kitchen floor, but it never touched the ground.
Basil dove to the floor so fast she never even saw him coming. He grabbed the jar and rolled to the side, sprang to his feet, and held it with two hands in front of her.
"How . . . how did you do that?" Shocked, she couldn’t believe how fast the man could move.
"Never mind that. Why did you drop the jar? Don't you realize how precious this stuff is?"
"I'm sorry. It's just that you shocked me when you said it was blood."
"You have a problem with that?"
"Do I have a problem with that?" she echoed. "No. Absolutely not. I have no problem with the fact you keep the refrigerator stocked with blood. After all, isn't it everyone who has a fetish for the stuff?" She wavered back and forth feeling like she was about to faint. Memories of her dead mother covered in blood kept coming to the surface. Basil reached out for her and she stepped away.
"Don't touch me," she warned him.
"Just trying to help."
He looked at her strangely, and then put the jar in the fridge. He pulled a chair out from the opposite side of the table and sat down. "Why don't you ask me?"
"Ask you what?" Her mind swarmed with the vampire myths and the story she was scheduled to do for Strange Sightings. Still, she wouldn’t accept the thought that vampires were real.
"What's on your mind at this very moment?"
"There's nothing on my
Basil gave her a nod of approval at her answer, and she marched up the stairs.
Cassie still stood there, a bowl in each hand, awaiting an answer from him.
"Don't look at me.” He pushed off the bar stool and wiped his hands on his pants. “I don't eat the damn stuff."
"Well if you don’t eat strawberry ice cream then what do you eat?" Her cocky attitude was back, and for some reason it annoyed him.
He pushed past her into the kitchen and made his way to the fridge.
"None of your business."
He grabbed a jar of blood from the back of the fridge. Then he came over to her and took the bowl from her hand.
"May I?"
She smiled and handed him the bowl. He read her mind and almost laughed. She was pleased with herself, thinking she’d succeeded in getting him to eat it.
He walked over to the sink and dumped it in.
"What are you doing?" Cassie rushed up and peered over his shoulder.
"Where'd you get these bowls and plates?" he asked.
"I couldn’t find any dishes. I figured that girl upstairs had them all in her bag. I didn’t want to bother her, so I bought more."
"They'll come in handy for feeding time."
He opened the jar and poured some of the liquid into the bowl.
"Feeding time? You mean dinner. You sure have a strange way with words."
"I mean feeding time." He screwed the top on the jar and handed it to her. "Put this back in the fridge."
Cassie sighed in defeat and headed toward the fridge, doing as he commanded.
"Oh, so you like your borscht cold?" she asked, obviously trying to understand him. “That’s why you didn’t eat yours earlier?”
"No, I like it hot. And for your information, this isn't borscht."
"Then what is it?" One hand on the fridge, Cassie inspected the jar with her other.
Basil looked at her and smiled. He shouldn’t toy with her like this, but she deserved it. After all, she’d caused him enough trouble. Now he’d have a little fun of his own.
"It's something much better than borscht, Cassie."
"Really?” She inspected the jar again, seeming very interested. “Some kind of wine?"
"No,” he responded, looking forward to her next reaction. “Cassie, it's blood."
Chapter 8
Cassie's fingers involuntarily dropped the jar. As if in slow motion, she watched it fall to the floor. It should have broke. It should have shattered into a million pieces and bled all over the kitchen floor, but it never touched the ground.
Basil dove to the floor so fast she never even saw him coming. He grabbed the jar and rolled to the side, sprang to his feet, and held it with two hands in front of her.
"How . . . how did you do that?" Shocked, she couldn’t believe how fast the man could move.
"Never mind that. Why did you drop the jar? Don't you realize how precious this stuff is?"
"I'm sorry. It's just that you shocked me when you said it was blood."
"You have a problem with that?"
"Do I have a problem with that?" she echoed. "No. Absolutely not. I have no problem with the fact you keep the refrigerator stocked with blood. After all, isn't it everyone who has a fetish for the stuff?" She wavered back and forth feeling like she was about to faint. Memories of her dead mother covered in blood kept coming to the surface. Basil reached out for her and she stepped away.
"Don't touch me," she warned him.
"Just trying to help."
He looked at her strangely, and then put the jar in the fridge. He pulled a chair out from the opposite side of the table and sat down. "Why don't you ask me?"
"Ask you what?" Her mind swarmed with the vampire myths and the story she was scheduled to do for Strange Sightings. Still, she wouldn’t accept the thought that vampires were real.
"What's on your mind at this very moment?"
"There's nothing on my
Similar Books
