“Most women prefer flowers.”
“Most women haven’t had their fathers killed by a bunch of psychopaths.” I lean back in my chair, practically bouncing with excitement. “So basically, you’ll do all the hard work and I get to be the one who actually kills them?”
“That’s... one way to put it.”
“Best. Teacher. Ever.”
“Then we have terms and conditions to discuss.” He folds his hands on the table. “If you’re staying here as my student instead of my... guest... we need ground rules.”
“Naturally. Let me guess—no talking to strangers, no going out after dark, no breathing without permission?”
“I don’t like dining alone.” His tone is matter-of-fact. “Meals are more civilized with company.”
I wasn’t expecting that. “You want me to eat with you?”
“Breakfast and dinner, at minimum. Lunch if you’re around.” He spreads jam on his toast with careful attention. “It’s a large house. Gets quiet.”
I study his face, looking for the catch. “That’s it? You want a dining companion?”
“And the third floor is off-limits.”
There’s a third floor? I think about the mansion’s towering height, the way it seemed to stretch forever when I first saw it from the gardens. I’ve barely explored the first floor, and only my room on the second floor, and apparently there’s an entire level above where I’m staying that I didn’t even know existed. Just how big is this place?
“Why?”
“Because it’s mine. Private.” The finality in his statement brooks no argument. “Everything else in this house you’re welcome to explore.”
“And third?”
“You don’t leave the property without me or security. Not until you’re ready. Not until I’m sure you won’t get yourself killed the first time you encounter a real threat.”
“For how long?”
“Until I say you’re ready.” Blue pauses and studies me. “Could be weeks. Could be months. Depends how quickly you learn.”
I consider this. The dining thing doesn’t sound terrible, and one restricted floor hardly seems unreasonable. But the confinement...
“I need to be able to go into town. Alone sometimes. I can’t be your prisoner while you’re training me.”
“Not until you can handle yourself.”
“Then teach me to handle myself faster.”
Blue’s mouth twitches with what might be amusement. “Eager, aren’t we?”
“I’ve been waiting five years for this chance. I’m not interested in taking it slow.”
“Too bad. Patience is the first lesson.” His voice takes on an instructional tone. “The Crow are still breathing because they’re careful, methodical, and don’t make mistakes. If you want to beat them, you need to be all of those things and more.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Just because you’re bringing me murder presents doesn’t make you my daddy.” I smirk and tease, “Unless you want to be mydaddy.” I give a playful wink.
The coffee cup halfway to Blue’s lips stops moving. For a second, I think I’ve genuinely shocked him. Then he sets it down and covers his mouth with his hand, but I can see his shoulders shaking.
“Did I just make the big scary murderer laugh?”
“You have an interesting way of phrasing things,” he manages, still fighting a smile.
“It’s one of my many charms. Along with my stunning morning hair and my ability to make any situation awkward.”
