“I have to. None of the rest of them can cook anything decent. I’m glad they went with the freezer option and didn’t try to make you something from scratch,” Bas said, making her laugh. “What? It’s the truth.”
Bridget pulled on his hand. “You are seriously worrying about that when some creature tried to suck the life out of you today? Why is it such a concern if people eat or not?”
Bas ran a hand through his curls. “I’ll tell you when I have the rum. Gods, I need a drink.”
Bridget took up a seat at the counter and watched Bas move around the kitchen. She shouldn’t find it so sexy watching himmeasure flour, but there she was, lusting away. She blessed whatever gods invented his gray pjs, too, becausedamn.
Bas opened a door at the other side of the kitchen and disappeared through it for a few moments before returning with a dusty bottle of dark, spiced rum. He poured two shots into his mixing bowl before getting some glasses and pouring a few fingers in each.
Bas smiled as he swirled the liquid. “The color reminds me of your eyes.”
“Maybe my dad was a pirate,” she replied with a laugh. “With my mother, anything is possible.Slainte!”
“Slainte,”Bas said, tapping her glass against his before they drank. “So you really don’t like your mom, huh?”
Bridget drained her glass and reached for the bottle to refill it. “Straight to it then?”
Bas fixed her with his steady gaze. “You need to tell me about it, love. I try not to pry as a rule, but when I woke tonight, it was with your thoughts and anxiety beating at me. Whatever you feel is so deep and dark and horrible, know that I can handle it.”
Bridget’s shoulders hunched in. “You can’t say that. You don’t even know what it is.”
“I know you’re not going to let me get any closer to you until you get it off your chest.” Bas topped up his own glass and sipped. “You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine. That way, we are even in the vulnerability department.”
Bridget stared at the dark amber in her glass and thought about it. It was a fair deal. “I will, but I still want that torte, so get cooking, Greatdrakes. It will be easier if you’re not looking at me with those big eyes of yours.”
“Fair enough. This torte won’t make itself,” Bas said and got back to doing his kitchen wizardry.
“What I said the other night about having no idea who my father is is the truth. Although I do like the idea of being a long-lost daughter of an Arabian prince, but that’s my obsession withA Thousand and One Nightstalking,” Bridget began. The first glass of rum she had downed was filling her with warmth, so she nursed the second one.
“When I was little, I had a very chaotic life. My mother didn’t see any reason why she should slow down her lifestyle because she had a kid. I was left alone in hotel rooms, so I read a lot. My schooling was scattered, to say the least. My mother was always on the prowl for the perfect, rich man who was going to sweep her off her feet. She found George by pure accident. His church and the party she was attending were at the same hotel. She changed after him, wanted to reform herself and begin her life anew and all that crap. The only problem was me, the illegitimate brown daughter who was a constant reminder of her party days.”
Bas paused in stirring the chocolatey mixture. “So much for Christian charity.”
“Ha! Yeah. I was precocious and didn’t know why I got in trouble when I asked why Jesus was white in all their pictures because historical accuracy demands that he be brown like me,” Bridget laughed, but it just came out awkward. She had another mouthful of rum and watched Bas pour the mixture into a cake tin and set it in the oven. It was a nice sight, especially in those gray pants.
“George didn’t start hitting me until after they were married. If they wanted to get rid of me, they could have just sent me to boarding school, but they didn’t want to waste their money. He started slapping it into me that he was the head of the house and I was only there because of his kindness.”
“And your mother did nothing?” Bas asked, his voice deadly soft.
“Nope. She wanted him more than me. It went on for years, but in that time at least I got to go to school. She got pregnant,and I was almost old enough to leave home. I just needed to wait it out.”
Bridget rubbed at her arm, where it had already begun to ache. She had to tell him. Had to get it over with, so if he was disgusted by her, she wouldn’t have let her feelings go far enough to have a broken heart over him. Bas leaned against the back counter, letting her have space.
“The night I was going to leave, everything was in place. I thought they would be happy to have me finally gone. George lost it. He had expected me to look after the baby. Keep the house clean. Be his idea of a good daughter and not leave his home until he found a suitable husband for me. I told him legally he couldn’t stop me, and then he really lost it.
“The baby was crying in the crib beside me as George laid into me. Broke my arm and some ribs. I had a moment where I thought,This is it.This is the night he kills me. But I was lucky. Stupid lucky. The fae returned that night. They hit London so fast, there hadn’t been any warnings. George was ripped off me. Two fae, a man and a woman, had come to collect the baby. They had killed my mother on the way in,” Bridget swallowed hard and dared to look at him.
“They held George and gave me their knife. They really didn’t like that he was beating a child. They said it was justice. I was angry. I took the knife, and I stuck it into George’s heart. They took the baby and the bodies away. Everything is a bit of a blur after that. The cops and ambulance came and saw the mess. Knew the bodies would be hanging beside the river like all the rest.”
Bas let out a soft sound. “Fuck, Bridget. That’s the reason you said that they saved you.”
“Theydidsave me. I got all of George’s and Mom’s money. Sold their fancy apartment in London, and I got the fuck out of there. Changed my name so no one could ever find me. Not thatI thought anyone would really come looking. I wanted to start a new life here, and I have. And that’s the big dark secret, Bas. No one has ever wanted me, and I killed my stepfather and let everyone believe it was the fae. I don’t regret it. I would do it again.”
“Good,” Bas said, bringing her up short.
“That’s not the reaction I thought you would have.”
Bas pushed off the counter and approached her slowly, like she was a skittish animal he didn’t want to scare. “You are a survivor, and I don’t blame you for killing him. In fact, it’s good that he’s not still alive because I would do more to him than give him a quick death.”
