“Look at him,” Orson said. I stretched my sitting body across the couch for her inspection.
“Do I not look yummy?” I winked at her. Bree bit her lip, holding back a giggle. She was just too cute sometimes.
“That’s the problem,” Orson said. “You do.”
“That’sa problem?”
“You looked ill before. Now you don’t.” His eyes dragged up my body before settling on my face. “And your eyes still haven’t gone back.” Nemo came in through the front door, carrying bags that smelled like hot food. He dropped them on the kitchen table, and I darted over, my stomach growling the entire way. Was this how Bree felt? Normally, I didn’t eat much, but I was currently willing to maul Nemo to get a fair share.
The moment the bags were within grabbing range, I peeled them open to find folded box containers. I flicked the top apart, and my mouth watered instantly.
“I have no idea what this is, but I’m going to eat it all,” I rasped. With a quick shove, Nemo was pushed out of my way as I reached out for more bags.
“What the hell?” He growled.
“Get your own,” I growled back, parking myself in a seat and fishing a little baggie of plastic utensils out.
“It’s American-Chinese,” Orson said. He came around and began pointing to things in the container I was hovering over. “That’s general tso’s, that’s orange chicken, that’s lo mein—” He grabbed a small container of red syrup and peeled open the top, before setting it on the table next to me. “And that’s the sauce for those.” He pointed at the star-shaped, crunchy pockets. “Crab rangoon.”
I feasted. Orson was weirdly into watching it happen. Nemo, too, actually. Or shocked, really. He was slack-jawed as I inhaled the noodles. Bree eventually came over as well. She sat down at the table and slid another container towards me.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat,” she commented.
“I feed on my victims,” I said. No one laughed. I looked up while slurping a noodle to see three pairs of horrified faces.
“Nemo literally ate parts of our Uber driver, and you two are vampires. And yet I get this look?” I scoffed in mock offense.
“But … that’s like, cannibalism?" Bree asked, unsure.
“That’s prejudice against basilisks. I’m as much of a monster as the rest of you.”
“This is fascinating,” Orson said. “Do you slurp their insides like a spider? And what hole do you do that from?”
“Clearly, from their asshole.” Another beat of silence. “I was joking.”
“About the asshole?”
“About eating people.” I dunked a crab rangoon into the thick, red sauce. It spilled onto the wooden table and pooled around the edges of the transparent container. “Is this candy?” I asked after sniffing it.
“It’s a sugary sauce,” Orson said. I slipped it into my mouth. The sugar and red dye hit my tongue like a shock to the system. As I bit into the pocket, a warm, mild cream combined with the fried pastry and sweet syrup.
“Oh, this is good,” I groaned. Nemo finally plopped down and began digging in.
“Were you really joking?” Bree asked. “Why haven’t I seen you eat?”
“I don’t eat people. And the truth? Ugh, no therapy tonight,” I said.
“Ah,” she said, and needed no more explanation. Oh, the joys of dating people who could recite the DSM from memory. Probably because they’d been diagnosed with half of it.
“Here,” I said, holding up a noodle. Bree opened her mouth, and I fed her the end. Then I slipped the other end into my mouth and quickly slurped up as much as I could until our mouths were touching. She laughed as I peppered her lips and cheeks with kisses.
“This is fun,” I said, sitting back down and swallowing the food. My eyes did a quick scan of her face, making sure there were no signs of venom poisoning. When no black or green showed up, I smiled at Bree.
“Let’s go to the bedroom. Just you and me,” I told her. “The others can join in a bit.”
“Alone?” She raised an eyebrow.
“I promise I know what goes where, even when Nemo isn’t fitting us together like puzzle pieces.”
