“I have no basis to object to custard,” I confirmed, my stomach rumbling in agreement.
“Nor should you. I mean, unless it’s fish custard.” I couldn’t hold back a grimace, but she waved it off. “It was more of my unfortunate molecular gastronomy phase. But it’s over now. Back to simple, delicious foods. And speaking of, we could probably use something with more substance.”
She walked back to the stove, pulled the lid off a pan, and scooped pasta and cheese into small, square bowls.
“Macaroni and cheese with prosciutto,” she said, sprinkling bread crumbs over the top and using a white towel to clean the edges of the bowls. When she was satisfied, she put them on the tray, and we looked down at the meal she’d assembled, heads cocked.
“Lot of beige there,” she said.
“Lot of beige,” I agreed. Custard, macaroni and cheese, and croissants.
“Normally, I’d trade carbs and cheese for some green vegetables, maybe a little spice, or something with a little vinegar. But I think tonight he’s going to want the cheesy and familiar. I’d throw on a grilled cheese and some butterscotch ice cream if we hadn’t already loaded him up with dairy. Here,” she said, crossing the room to the prep area, where she worked with something for a moment before carrying it carefully back.
She revealed two plump red strawberries, sliced into fans, and placed one atop each ramekin of custard. “Voilà.”
“I think that will do it,” I agreed with a smile, picking up the tray. “My compliments to the chef.”
Margot snorted. “It’s traditional to eat the food first before thanking the chef.”
“I know you and your cooking,” I said, making my way to the door. “Consider it payment in advance.”
I had food, but I was still lacking a crucial ingredient on Luc’s Chicken Soup for the Vampire’s Soul list. I made my way into Ethan’s office, set the tray on his desk, and headed to his bar. He had a full stash of bourbons, whiskeys, Scotches, so I pulled the oldest open bottle I could find—eighteen-year-old Glenmorangie—and added the bottle and a clean glass to the tray.
My stomach knotted with fear and anticipation, I made my way to the stairs.
Chapter Eighteen
INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE
The shower was roaring when I walked into the apartments, steam billowing from the open bathroom door. I put the tray on the table, picked up the gi Ethan had discarded along the way to the bathroom, and placed it across the end of the bed.
It wasn’t the only trail in the room. Magic had been spilled, and it had followed him into the apartments like smoke behind a fire. It left a greasy feeling in the air, which explained the billowing steam. He’d have wanted to be clean. I couldn’t blame him.
I stood by impatiently, gnawing on my thumb and pacing the room as I waited for him to emerge.
Finally, the water slowed to a trickle, nearly twenty minutes after I’d come into the room. There were footsteps, then the sound of fabric on skin.
He emerged a minute later, a towel wrapped around his waist, and scrubbing another through his hair. He might have been immortal, but he looked tired. Gaunt, as if the hour with the psychics had literally pulled away parts of him.
He spared me a glance, a line of worry between his eyes. “Is there a problem?”
I shook my head. “Just checking on you. I brought you something to eat in case you were hungry.”
He nodded and wrapped the second towel around his neck, holding the ends with his hands. We stood there silently for a moment.
“That felt like hell. The House shook with it.”
Ethan’s gaze searched mine. “You’re all right? Everyone’s all right?”
“We’re all fine. Worried about you.”
“I survived,” he said, and walked to his closet, a dark, script tattoo across the back of his calf.
I debated whether to follow him or give him space, had no idea of the appropriate behavior for a boyfriend who’d just been put through an emotional ringer. I doubted Cosmo had addressed it; my nerves in overdrive, I nearly laughed aloud at the thought of seeing Sup Cosmo on a supermarket shelf. Just consider the articles: “Woo Your Wolf with White Lingerie.” “Sexy Scabbards Your Vamp Won’t Forget.” “Kicking Him to the Curb: Fifty Ways to Leave Your Vampire Lover.”
I knew Ethan didn’t need to be pushed—Luc had reminded me of that well enough—but at least I could try to tend to him the way he tended to me.
I picked up the bottle of Blood4You, uncapped the top, and carried it to the closet, offering him sustenance instead of peppering him with my burning questions.
He stood in front of the chest that sat in the middle of the closet, which was large enough to be a room in its own right. A drawer was open, and he pulled out a dark, folded T-shirt, placed it on the top of the bureau. His hair was wet and slicked back, and he’d already pulled on dark silk pajama bottoms that rode low on his hips. His toes peeked from the bottom hem, his abdomen bare above the waistband.
When I offered the bottle, he reached out and drained it in seconds, throat moving as he drank. Still silent, he placed the empty bottle atop the bureau and looked back at me, eyes silvered.
Lust bolted through me. Not the lust of seduction, but survival. He’d gone through something—something we’d experienced vicariously—and come through the other end. I wanted to be near him, close to him.
I missed him.
But there was still something between us, so I didn’t step forward.
That didn’t stop Ethan. He moved to me, sunk his lips into mine with enough force to draw blood. I felt his banked strength, even as his muscles trembled with exhaustion.
I had strength to offer. I tilted my head, offered myself to him—blood, body, and soul—shivered as he traced his lips across my jaw, to the nape of my neck, to the crux of my shoulder. Just to feel him touch me was a miracle.
But he stopped. He slid fingers along the line of my shoulder and cheek, cupped my face in his hand. When I lifted my eyes to him, I found his wracked with pain and fear.
“Do you want to know what I saw? When she was in my mind, when she was battling me, do you want to know what I saw?”
His agony was so obvious I was terrified to nod, but I was more terrified to decline. I nodded, and Ethan caressed my lips.
“I saw you. You and me. And you were taken from me. Ripped away. That’s how they test you, Merit. Not with anger or pain, but with loss. With the loss of all that you love, all that you want, all that you don’t even have the courage to hope for.”