Glass had his sleeves pushed up and looked comfortable in front of the stove of his all-white kitchen. The fridge and dishwasher were along the same wall, and a curved island sat between him and the windows. The blinds were open, and the windows stretched all the way to the opposite side of the room by the kitchen table.
“You don’t get much privacy in here,” I said.
He glanced over his shoulder. “I have tall fences and vines in the back. It’s more private than it looks. I don’t think anyone is going to be spying on me cooking breakfast, do you?”
I flashed a smile. “Depends on what you’re wearing. Ornotwearing. A lot of frisky housewives live in the suburbs.” I set my bottle down and leaned on the counter, conflicted on whether I should chow down on his steak as fast as I could or let him know that Viktor had summoned me home. “So what’s going on upstairs?”
He turned the steak over in the skillet and added more butter. “My mother’s belongings are still up there. I’m trying to get them all sorted and boxed. There’s no need to hold on to them anymore. I’m going to rip up the flooring and knock down a few walls. I don’t need that many rooms.”
“You might,” I suggested. “If you find yourself a nice little wifey to have babies with.”
That was a silly thing to say on our date. I lightly smacked myself in the face and stood up. “Have you thought about selling this place and moving to the Breed district?”
He peered over his shoulder. “I’m used to the privacy out here.”
I turned around and was heading toward the back door when I noticed another door to my left. Curious if it was the pantry, I reached for the handle.
“Don’t open that,” he blurted out. “That’s, um, that’s the basement. There’s a bunch of moths living down there, and every time I open the damn door, they get in.”
I let go of the knob. “Sounds like you need an exterminator. It’s a nice house, it’s just not you. Unless you’re really into the vintage look.” I glanced up at a picture on the wall of a fork and a spoon dancing. It seemed fitting considering how different we were. I also thought about Christian and how he would have made a spoon joke.
Glass plated our steaks and set down the tongs before approaching me. He cupped my face in his hands, gazing deep into my eyes. It was like looking into the eyes of a wild animal, so I looked at his mouth. He had straight teeth except for one bottom tooth that was slightly askew.
“Do you know why I asked you out?”
“My sparkling personality?”
“You’re different. I know firsthand how immortals scrutinize every little thing. It’s an old habit born of superstition and arrogance because of how some immortals are chosen. But it trickles over to the other Breeds—the ones who have no choice in what color hair or skin they’re born with. Or eyes,” he said, his thumb brushing near my lashes. “You don’t hide your defect or let it weaken you, and that makes you interesting to me. You’re not like the others.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“You don’t trust that Vampire, do you?”
“Christian?”
He let go and stepped back. “Vampires are the root of all evil. They feast on blood and murder indiscriminately.”
I folded my arms. “Is that how you really feel?”
He shrugged. “It’s just small talk.”
“Ah. Since we’re small talking, what’s your first name? Now that you’ve cooked me a steak, it seems kind of trite to be calling you Glass.”
“Will.” He turned around and pulled something out of the oven. “Actually, it’s Willard, but I never liked that name.”
“Is that so?” I asked, turning around in sheer horror.
Willard was the name of the man Penny was going to meet. How many men went by that name? Then I thought about the shoes upstairs that I’d assumed he was in the process of throwing away. None had a mate, and I bet if I’d lingered long enough I might have recognized the ones missing from our victims.
Shutting off my emotions was something I’d been able to do all my life in times of crisis. But Chitahs left me uncertain. Could they scent a suppressed emotion? I stared vacantly out the back window, watching his reflection in the glass as he prattled on about his mother’s old-fashioned taste in names. I needed a minute alone to take a deep breath and come up with a plan.
“Mind if I look at your back patio before we eat?” I asked.
“Go ahead. I still need to uncork the wine.”
After I closed the door behind me, I walked to the edge of the concrete and pulled out my phone.
Great. I finally meet a nice guy, and he turns out to be a serial killer. Once again, destiny screws me over.
