Page 62

Dimitri strolls into my room, takes one look around, and stops dead.

My bed is covered in sweets.

Candy wrappers, chocolate bars, gummies, expensive little pastries I had delivered because I was in the mood to rot from the inside out, and also because I need it to calm down.

He puts a hand to his chest and says, “Bozhe moi, zaychik, are you trying to speed-run diabetes?”

I glare at him from where I’m half-sprawled against the pillows. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” he asks, walking closer. “You look exactly like a sulking little bunny in a sugar den.”

“I’ll kill you.”

“See?” He points at me like I’ve proven his case.

I pout automatically, which only makes him grin wider.

He gestures broadly at the entire nest of sweets around me. “What is this? Are you planning to survive the winter in here?”

I grab a gummy packet and throw it at him.

He catches it one-handed, looks at the label, and scoffs. “Strawberry worms? You’re eight.”

“You don’t know what’s good, Dimaaa.”

He laughs and tosses the packet back onto the bed, then sits on the edge. “Seriously. This is a lot. Even for me. And you know I love sweets.”

“I was hungry.”

He barks out a laugh and grabs a pillow. I see the movement a second too late, and the pillow hits me square in the head.

I jerk hard, and a little shock of pain stings across my scalp under my hair, where the stitches are hidden.

I manage not to wince. Dimitri notices nothing, thank God, because then I’d have to explain why I currently have medical thread in my skull.

He smirks at me. “That was for being dramatic.”

I pick the pillow up and throw it back at him. He snorts and catches it against his chest. Then he leans back on one hand and studies me for a moment, his grin easing as my stomach growls.

Dimitri looks at me. I look at the wall, and he starts smiling.

I already hate where this is going.

“…I’m hungry,” I mutter.

“You want me to cook, don’t you?”

Dimitri cooks for Rei all the time, and I’ve smelled enough of his food to know I’d sell small parts of my soul for a plate, but he usually swats my hand away if I try to sneak something he cooks for his boyfriend.

“I’ll do it.”

I blink. “You will?”

“Don’t sound so shocked.”

I scoff. “You never let me try it when you cook for Rei.”

“That’s because I make it specifically for him. Now stop looking at me like a neglected orphan and come to the kitchen. I’ll make it for you this time.”