Someone had used several brilliantly polished copper pans as wall decoration. When she stretched up to pull the smallest saucepan off the wall, she was surprised by the weight of it. Normally she used the regular lightweight, indestructible ones from orc-owned brands. “Are these antiques?”
“They came with the house.”
So the answer was yes. The manor house pre-dated the Great War, so the pans likely did as well.
Zia stared at the pan, considering its worth as an antique versus its purpose as a kitchen utensil, before she shrugged and trotted back to the cooker. After hunting down a similarly decorative teacup and spoon, she set out to use her well-honed cooking skills to whip herself up a luxe cup of hot chocolate.
As the milk heated in the pan, she carefully scraped at the gooey center of the vanilla bean and tried not to feel Mr. Bounds’s gaze burning a hole in the side of her head.
“I didn’t know hummingbirds were silly.”
The tip of her spoon skipped off of the long vanilla bean. Ittingedagainst the marble counter as her eyes skated back to her host. He was leaning against the countertop, arms crossed over his naked chest. A frown puckered the skin between his brows.
It was hard to look at him for too long. Every time she dared to glance his way, she spotted something new and alluring, like the hint of crow’s feet, or his widow’s peak, or the way his pupils still glowed faintly green in the light, or how his streaks of gray looked more like ribbons through his long hair—
“I suppose they’re not, but they do move around very fast and do all sorts of funny things in the air.” She shrugged and forced her eyes back to her task. “Could be worse. They could have compared me to a shoebill.”
She dipped the spoon into the milk and began to stir.
“I don’t know what a shoebill is.”
Peeking at him through her lashes, she shot him a bashful smile. “A shoebill is another type of bird. They look like perpetually pissed off old men. Not what I’d like to be compared to, if I had the choice.”
She could almosthearhis frown deepening as she stirred in the sugar and powdered chocolate. A glance at the sugar told her evenitwas fancy, though the Japanese label shot down any chance of her figuring out why. She fought the urge to shake her head.
This would be perhaps the most sumptuous cup of cocoa she ever had, in the company of the strangest, most intense man she’d ever met.
“You arenota shoebill,” he declared, low and serious. When she moved to turn down the heat on the cooker, Zia was surprised to see him gripping the edge of the countertop, his knuckles bleached white.
Every single knuckle was decorated with star-shaped scars.
“And if youarea hummingbird, it’s not because you’re silly. It’s because you spend all day with your flowers.” He paused, then, in a voice that was almost reluctant, added, “And it’s because you’re beautiful.”
Zia’s heart stuttered. “That… that is a better way of looking at it, yes.”
Trying to calm herself down and not read into whatever that meant, she delicately poured her cocoa into the lovely, filigree-encrusted teacup. Steam curled in the air. The scent was heavenly. Raising the cup to her lips, she took a tiny sip.
Goodness gracious gods in the sky, that’s a damn good cup of cocoa!
“Oh, you really do buy fantastic chocolate,” she praised. A soft moan of delight hummed in her throat. “I think this is the best cocoa I’ve ever had.”
Mr. Bounds looked at her for what felt like a long time before he gestured stiffly to the kitchen table. “Will you sit with me while you drink your… cocoa?”
She sent the table a nervous look. “Are you going to have something? It’ll be strange if it’s just me…” Too late, she realized what she said. Flushing hot enough to make her ears red, she tried to backtrack. “Ah, I’m sorry! I don’t know the proper— I mean, Ididn’tmean to— Damn.”
If she wasn’t so busy staring at her cocoa in abject mortification, she might have caught the way Mr. Bounds’s lips curled up at the corners.
Padding a few steps to his left, he swiped the open bottle of synthblood off of the counter. She recognized it from ads and a small section of the big grocery store she sometimes made the long trip to. The brand he apparently preferred came in a sleek chrome bottle with a blue label that read,SIPIRON - Tastes real because it’s made real! Now in our new self-heating bottle!
Mr. Bounds used the bottle to gesture toward the table, saying, “I didn’t finish my meal earlier. I can finish it while you drink your cocoa.”
That solves that, I guess.
Willing her hands not to shake with nerves, Zia carefully walked with her mug over to the table. Before she could use her foot to nudge her chair out, Mr. Bounds grasped the back and pulled it away from the edge for her.
“Thank you,” she murmured, sitting down.
He settled into the seat across from her. Those vampire eyes never left her face even when he slowly raised the bottle to his lips. It must have been a trick of the low light, but she swore his pupils expanded impossibly larger. “You’re welcome.”
