As one, they melted into the house. Keeping me sandwiched between them, they slipped through the front door. Weapons at the ready. Communicating through sharp hand signals and body language.
But we were not met with the horrified screams of the mortally wounded. Not greeted by the sight of untold carnage. And the air was free and clear of the greasy flavor of vaporized elites.
Instead, the rich aroma of baking assailed our nostrils. Delicious, home cooking the likes of which I hadn’t smelled in… longer than I could adequately recall. “Fuck, I hope that’s not the scent of a charred bodies,” I whispered, stomach howling my need for something other than what the captain dolled out. “Because that?Thatsmells bloody divine.”
“Fucksakes, Mila,” the captain hissed, sending a bewildered glance back. “A little sensitivity might be in order?”
“Sorry,” I returned, hunching my shoulders. “I’m hungry.”
Shaking his head, the captain muttered, “Thirty seconds. Wasn’t thirty seconds before she forgot the second thing I said.” And then, his senses flaring out, he said, “I think”—the captain scowled—“I think Alicia is alone. There’s no one else in the house.”
Marco cleared his throat, jaw flexing and bunching as his gaze remained fixed straight ahead. “Is she okay?”
But to that, Asher could only frown. Uncertain, he stepped forward, nudging the kitchen door open with the muzzle of his weapon, and—
An ear piercing scream shattered the hush.
“Alicia,what the fuck?” Marco hollered at the same time the captain snarled, “Fucksakes, woman! We might’ve killed you!”
Standing in a dim, windowless kitchen, the pleasure slave was covered in a fine dusting of flour. Dressed in an apron, hair tied back in a messy bun, she was cooking what looked to be a multi-course meal in a dark and powerless kitchen.
Hand pressed to her chest, Alicia gasped for breath, and said, “Think I might have pissed myself. You scared the life outta me!”
Marco stormed into the kitchen and took the pleasure slave by both shoulders. “What were you thinking?” he snarled, giving her a shake. “Cooking in the dark after sending a message like that, eh?The fuck is wrong with you?”
Color flushed in her cheeks, and something about her went soft when she said, “I-I’m sorry.”
“Explain,” Asher barked, tucking his weapon back into its holster. His eyes stormy, but edged in the fine lines and dark circles of exhaustion.
“Thought you might appreciate an excuse to leave in a hurry,” she whispered in a trembling voice. Cowering before them, her eyes rimmed white and luminous in the shadows. “I knew—assumed—that—that Carina—Miss Savoywouldn’t have brought anything for the priestess to eat, so I put together a few of my favorite things. Made cookies,” she added in a tiny voice.
“Why,” Marco snarled, and forced her back a step, his grip growing tight enough to dimple her skin, “is it so fucking dark in here? Why are you cooking in the dark?”
“Fuse blew,” she squeaked. “I tried to turn the oven on at the same time as the—”
“Blender,” Marco said, taking a shaky breath as he holstered his weapon at last. Shoving one hand into his breast pocket, he produced a packet of cigarettes and lit one with a deep, ragged inhale. “Right. I’ll be back,” he added. Gruff, not making eye contact as he stormed toward the door—and almost shouldered me off my feet.
“Took it upon yourself, did you?” the captain asked, taking his turn to interrogate her as he steadied me. “To decide when I was finished meeting with my intended wife?”
“My lord Rawlings,” she wheezed, aghast. “I’m—I’m sorry—”
“That’s a punishable offense,” he drawled, moving toward her on silent feet. “Grossly overreaching of your station.”
I slipped in behind him, set the bottle of wine on the countertop, and took my place at the kitchen island. Snagging a cookie off top of the pile.
“M-My lord—”
“And your punishment,” he said, placing one steadying hand on her shoulder, “is the dreary task of cheering up that grumpy prick”—he jerked his thumb in the direction Marco had gone—“before he burns up the very last twig of my patience. Oh,” he added, then turned to claim the spot on my right. “And deliver a couple of plates to my room, if you could. Whatever you’ve whipped up smells incredible, but I’ve important business to attend. I seem to recall Mila asking me to paint her face…”
For a moment, her lips gaped, and not a sound escaped her. But then a brittle laugh spilled over, and she said, “My deepest apologies, sir. I’ll go about my punishment withenthusiasmafter I’ve put your plates together.”
I stuffed another cookie between my teeth and took another in hand, scarfing down the calories as fast as I could.
“And Alicia?” Asher said, setting his elbow to rest on the countertop. “Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you. That woman is…”
Light burst into the kitchen, and with a low hum, the oven resumed it work as the power came back on.
Donning her usual, glittery personality, Alicia smiled. Head tipped back, as if she were turning her face into the warmest glow, she hummed. “I’ll bring your plates up in just a moment, sir.”
