Her attention remained on her dishes. “Yes. Aside from recalling that this was a choice I made, to come here, I do not remember anything about my past.”
Wow. That … kinda sucked. Who would want to spend all their days living their life only to have their memories yanked away from them? Well, clearly Emily since she’d evidently agreed to it. But still.
“Was it worth it?” he asked, wishing he could take the words back as soon as they were out.
“I… In my humble opinion, I believe it was, yes. This is an opportunity to serve my Lord and Savior; therefore I find it quite worth it.”
Well, then. Didn’t he just feel like a dickhead.
“And you?” she asked. “How do you like it here?”
It was his turn to drop his gaze. “It’s fine. I enjoy the work.”
“As do I,” she added, as though he’d suggested otherwise.
When she resumed her scrubbing of the dishes, Oliver watched her. It was hard to pinpoint her exact age, but he had to assume she was somewhere in her mid- to late-twenties. In human years, anyway. Here in the land of immortals, age was irrelevant—quite literally just a number—so their physical appearance could bely their actual number of years since, like angels and apparently vampires,heurospdidn’t age the same as humans.
But she was pretty in a sweet, innocent way. Long blond hair that she kept up in a ponytail, kind brown eyes, and a warm smile. Those were the things he’d noticed about her since her arrival. It was the sort of thing he noticed with most of theheurospwho wandered the estate taking care of the lot of them. For instance, Jeffrey: brown eyes, light brown hair, eager to take care of everyone. And then Phillip, who he suspected was the BMOC: dark brown hair, pale blue eyes, and a quick smile. Oliver was pretty sure Jeffrey and Phillip were a couple, but he figured asking was a violation of their privacy. They seemed happy, whatever their relationship, and that was all that really mattered.
Ding!
Finally. Two days later, he had lightly toasted bread.
Turning back to his task, Oliver slid out the pieces of crusty brown bread, slathered each with peanut butter, smashed them together, then returned the PB to the pantry where he’d gotten it. When he returned, there was a linen napkin, a perfectly ripened banana, and a glass of milk sitting beside his plate.
He peered over at Emily, noticed she was blushing sweetly.
“Thanks, Em,” he said. “You’re far too kind.”
“You’re more than welcome, sire.”
Shaking his head at the title she used, he carried his plate and glass into the breakfast nook—though nook seemed to imply it was a small area and this one held a table that sat at least twenty-four people. It was used for meals that weren’t eaten in the enormous dining room (think commercial cafeteria). Many times, he would see one of theheurosphaving their meal in there, and he briefly wondered if Emily would’ve joined him if he’d asked.
Oliver closed his eyes and sighed. No, he didn’t wonder.
Because it wasn’t his place.
He seriously needed to get a grip.
So he did, using both hands to tilt his sandwich up to his mouth. With his first bite, he groaned in pleasure.
Plop.
Peering down the front of his shirt, he sighed again.
“You dropped some.”
His head jerked up to see Kaj passing down the hallway, his finger aimed directly at Oliver’s shirt. The vampire offered a grin and kept on going.
Oliver glanced down, shook his head at the melted peanut butter running in a river down the front of him.
If he had any luck at all, it was shit luck.
With a grunt, he lifted the sandwich to his mouth and mentally gave the shit luck the finger.
It replied by dropping another load of peanut butter.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
