“A gift,” I repeated flatly. “Yeah, that’s what everyone says right before they ruin your life.”
His brow rose, elegant and faintly judgmental. “You seem distraught.”
“Distraught?” I huffed out a laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”
“If that is meant to be derogatory, I am still glad you woke me,” he said, voice softer but no less steady. “Though I understand your wariness at being attached to someone you had no intention of being attached to.”
“Yeah, well, I never should’ve read those damn Latin words aloud.” I sighed. “Fuck my life.”
He frowned faintly. “That phrase… you wish harm upon yourself?”
“What? No. It’s just—never mind.”
His eyes remained curious.
I blinked at him. “You’re impossible.”
A small pause. “So I’ve been told.”
I turned back to the stove, because looking at him too long made my chest feel unreasonably tight. “Do you want some French toast or not? Wait—can vampires even eat?”
“We can.” He moved closer, his voice low and even. “It is unnecessary. But pleasant. A way to socialize.” His nostrils flared slightly. “And the foreign toast smells… appealing.”
“Foreign toast,” I muttered, flipping a slice.
He stood beside me—too close again. Close enough that I could feel his body heat and that stupid tether thrumming under my skin, smoothing my pulse instead of spiking it. I couldn’t tell if he was smelling the toast or me, and I didn’t want to know which would be worse.
I cleared my throat. “Okay. Distraction. Since we’re apparently stuck together for eternity, let’s get to know each other. Five questions. No jokes allowed.”
He eyed the timer I spun to five minutes like it might explode. “Define ‘joke.’”
“Anything that makes me laugh. Ready?”
He looked displeased at that, but he stepped closer again—not touching, but close enough that my brain stalled. “Proceed.”
“First clear memory?”
“Steel and smoke. I was ten.”
I nodded, swallowing. “Mine’s my mom’s ugly, orange, thrift-store couch. But it was safe.”
He considered this, then asked, “What do you collect?”
“Mugs.”
“Secrets.”
The air thickened between us.
“What do you hate that everyone loves?” I asked.
“Monuments.”
“Why?”
“Stone that praises dead men,” he said. “Feed the living instead.”
I blinked. “That’s… unexpectedly deep.”
