Silas lounges at the end, Rafe and Kit on either side of him.
Something else familiar. Memories of dinners, breakfasts, midnight feasts… I blink them away as though they never existed at all. Ellen directs me to the space between Silas and Kit, and I lean in to place the pot on the protective wooden shelf, bracing as Rafe leans back in his chair.
“Jesus,” he remarks. “What is thatsmell?”
My face goes up in flames as I take a few quick steps back, intending to escape from the room as quickly as possible. Even Ellen takes pity on me, gesturing from the doorway to hurry up.
Silas’s voice drops into the silence like a whip. “Stay where you are.”
I pause, my body already half-turned towards the door. “I wouldn’t want to put you off your food.”
“Too late for that,” Rafe says caustically. “Did you lose your sense of basic hygiene along with your decency, Anastasia?”
I glance towards Ellen, but she’s abandoned me, the door closing. “It’s a little hard to stay clean when you don’t have access to hot water. Or soap. Or atoothbrush.”
Kit leans back in his chair, surveying me with his deep violet gaze. Assessing me. “You have access to hot water now,” he points out.
I make a show of jangling the chain that links my wrists together. “Ah, yes. The little faucet in the washroom is perfect. Suchgenerousjailors you are.”
“We are generous,” Silas murmurs in response. “If it wasn’t for us, you would be rotting away in prison, Anastasia. Or did you forget?”
I press my lips together before I respond. “If you’re waiting for a thank you, it’s not going to happen. I know why I’m here.”
And it’s not out of the kindness of their hearts.
Rafe opens his mouth, but Silas holds up a hand, cutting him off. His blue eyes pierce me as he gestures towards the steaming dishes on the table. “In that case,” he says silkily. “You’d better get on with it andserve.”
My body tenses at the idea of moving closer to them. Prey, approaching predators. But my steps are jerky as I ball up my fists and stride up to the table. I yank open the tureen, staring down at the green soup. It feels warm beneath my fingers, the perfect temperature to eat. My stomach rumbles in appreciation for the delicious smell.
“Hurry up,” Silas snaps. I battle back the snarl I want to throw at him in response. The sooner I do it, the sooner I canleave. At least for tonight.
I grab Kit’s bowl first, ladling soup into it until it’s nearly overflowing. He doesn’t say a word as I drop it in front of him, but I can feel his gaze on me. All of them, watching me.
Rafe holds out his bowl with a smirk, but it slides away when I ignore him, snatching Silas’s bowl and filling it. It nearly tips when I shove it towards him. “Your soup.Sir.”
“Careful,” Silas murmurs. “Or that attitude is going to get you into trouble.”
I’m already in fucking trouble. The anger creeps up my spine, curling around my neck as I reach for Rafe’s bowl and he slides it to the side. I grab for it again and he grins, moving it out of reach just as my fingers brush it. My fingers curl into a fist as he tilts his head, blonde strands of hair slipping from the cord he uses to keep it away from his face. “Didn’t Silas tell you to hurry up? You’re terrible at this, Anastasia.”
I grit my teeth. “Give me the bowl.”
He waves a finger in the air. “Please.”
Twenty years ofthis?
“Please,” I force out. But when I reach for the bowl again, he pulls it away.
“On second thoughts,” he leans forward, taking a deep, obvious sniff. “I don’t think I want you near my food, Anastasia. I’ll serve myself. You smell like a sewer.”
“Rafe.” But there’s amusement in Silas’s voice, even as I flinch.
I can’t do twenty years of this. Ican’t.
Rafe stares at me, waiting for my reaction. So eager to watch the blows land. My hands drop back down, wrapping against the handles of the soup.
Taking a deep breath, I lift my head up to meet his green eyes.
And I smile.
