Blood Entangled (11 page)

“Lena, please, come sit here.”

Her head bowed. Then, without looking up, she obeyed. She smelled like figs, both the sweet fruit and the green leaves she’d brushed against. He hadn’t especially liked figs when he was human, but he pictured her biting into a ripe one, and licking her lips.
Krist
, it was hot in the kitchen. He tugged at his collar.

Focus.

The cookbook looked fifty years old, at least. “Where in the world did you get this?”

“I ordered it online when I first took the job. Thought it might come in handy.”

Of course she did. The faded black and white pictures showed food Kos couldn’t even imagine was appetizing, but he vaguely remembered eating it. He waved his hand over the book.

“What did you have in mind?”

For the first time, she met his eyes. “Well, grilled sardines. I can get fresh ones from a guy I know at the farmers’ market.”

“We ate those all the time when I was young. The fishermen pulled them out of the Adriatic and filled cart after cart.”

She almost smiled, and he wished he could go back in time to that morning, when they’d talked easily about his past.

“I was also thinking about stuffed peppers. They’re still in season.”

“Yes, those are very traditional—good idea.”

“Okay, and this is the special one.” She sat straighter, her voice growing more confident. “What about wild truffles and pasta? A friend in town just brought me a sack full, and he promises more next week. The season’s just started up north.”

“Truffles? Those mushrooms they hunt with pigs?”

“Yeah. The ones growing here are different from the European variety, but I think they’re just as good.”

The dish sounded familiar. He squinted at the antiquated cookbook photo and tried to place it—a steaming earthenware bowl of noodles, the rich, meaty smell of the mushrooms, his mother smiling. Nostalgia gripped him, and he fell backward into the vision.

“My mother used to make that. I loved it.” His words caught in his throat.

Lena watched him, the corners of her deep blue eyes creasing. Always kind, her compassion had swallowed up her awkwardness. She inched her hand toward him, but stopped just short of his arm. “Were you remembering her?”

“Yes, an unexpectedly happy memory amidst the tragic ones.”

“Oh.” Lena closed the cookbook, leaning forward. “Your mother wasn’t a vampire, was she?”

“No. She didn’t want to turn.”

“And Andre adopted you?” She studied him with an intense focus he’d never seen from her before.

“Yes.” Where was she going with these questions?

Her bottomless eyes held his. “But what about Bel?”

Bel?
Krist
. She wanted to have babies. And, she wanted to serve a vampire. Of course she wondered about Bel. He looked exactly like Andre, was clearly his biological son. Kos clung to the seat of his chair, the wood denting under the tips of his fingers.

If only life were the fairy tale where he could give her everything she wanted.

“Bel is a mystery, Lena. He’s the only one of his kind. Even Andre doesn’t know how he was conceived.”

“So there’s no way…” Averting her gaze, she tucked a strand of her silken hair behind her ear, and he wanted to pull it out and run it through his fingers.

“There’s no way to have a baby with a vampire, Lena. If you want to be a mother, you must leave household service and choose a human life. Is that what you want?”

She folded her hands on the table, an almost peaceful gesture. But her fingertips turned white with a pressure rivaling his grip on the chair.

“I’m not ready to decide.”

“I understand. Then, I will continue to advertise your services, unless you tell me otherwise. All right?”

Her eyes glittered, and she stared toward his mouth. He wiped his lips—could they be stained by a drop of blood? He hadn’t fed all day. Maybe it was wine.

“Yes, that’s all right.” She squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

“It’s my duty, and my pleasure, to help you, Lena.” He pulled his hand away, unable to stand the longing her touch stirred. He tapped the cookbook to refocus her attention. “Now, did you have any other dishes in mind?”

“I thought I would make baklava. I know it’s not really Croatian, but I have tons of pistachios.”

He laughed. A memory came to mind, of Bel pouting and pointing at him.

“What?”

“Our cook made it often and I loved it. I would steal it from the kitchen and get in trouble. I would always blame Bel and then get caught licking my sticky fingers.” He doubled over with laughter, his eyes tearing up. Who knew that discussing food could bring on floods of emotion and fits of nostalgia?

She wore the first real smile he’d seen all afternoon. “Baklava it is, then. I have a whole case of honey I bought at the farmers’ market. I wonder if I can find it? Somewhere high in the pantry, I think.”

The fear on her face when she’d teetered under the fig tree flashed in his mind. “Let me help you get it down.”

Lena’s neck flushed with Kos behind her. Was he looking at her, or was she just imagining he was? More importantly, had he noticed her staring at his mouth? He must think she was a total freak. Some kind of succubus who’d turned her attention to him since she’d failed to seduce his father.

She swung open the door to the pantry and flipped on the lights. A folding step stool hung from a hook on the wall, and she placed it on the floor in front of the shelf. Kos’s gaze left a trail of embarrassed heat down her body. Maybe she just wanted him to be looking at her, while in reality he was reading the labels on her obsessively organized shelves.

“The case of honey is on the top.” She pointed. “I can’t see it from here. It must have been pushed behind something.” The distant top shelf spanned the room about nine feet off the ground.

“Why did you put it all the way up there?”

“Pedro did it months ago. I took one jar out and he put the box on the shelf.”

Kos climbed the ladder and looked down at her over his shoulder. “What does it look like?”

“It’s just a regular cardboard box, maybe a foot square.”

“Labeled?” he asked, winking.

She smiled, feeling a little more like herself. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably not.”

“I still don’t see it. I’m going to have to stand on the top of the ladder. Would you mind keeping it steady?”

“Of course.”

Her view of the shelf was blocked by his very nicely shaped butt. She bit the inside of her cheek. It was seriously a tragedy that he was so beautifully built, and she would never get to touch him the way she wanted. Her fingers twitched. Good thing her job was to keep the stool steady or her hands would be all over him.

Above her, boxes scraped against the wooden shelves. “Any luck?”

“No, nothing that matches that description.”

“Darn. I guess I better look.”

He stepped down. She put her foot on the first rung then faltered.

He braced the stool. “Don’t worry. I’ll hold you steady and catch you if you fall.”

She rubbed at her chest where his words made her ache. But he only meant fall off the ladder, and it was true, he’d saved her from worse. She kicked off her kitchen clogs, climbed up to the very top of the ladder and started reading the labels on boxes anywhere close to the right size.

“Do you see it?”

She could feel his hot breath on her hip. He had the same view of her that she’d just enjoyed of him.

“No. I don’t see it.” She stood on her toes to peer around another box.

“Lena, that’s not safe.” He grabbed her ankles.

Her body betrayed her—moisture pooled between her legs. Oh no! He would smell her. How many times had he known from her scent she was turned on by Andre’s bite?
Succubus, succubus, succubus.

“Damn.” Still gripping her ankles, he whispered so quietly she barely heard.

She had to crane her neck to look at him. “Kos?”

He gazed at the stool between her feet. “I can smell you. So sweet.” After a moment, he looked up. “Really?”

There was no lie that would spare her from the humiliating truth. “Yes.”

“Damn.” He turned and walked out the door.

Lena climbed off the stool and plopped onto the floor. Through her moist panties, the tile was cool on the hot flesh between her legs. She should lay her cheek on the floor to cool the even hotter flush of embarrassment.

She hated Kaštel. She was sick of being humiliated, sick of men who didn’t want her, who made her wonder what was wrong with her. She had to go.

Kos still smelled Lena from the other side of the pantry door, sweet like the honey they’d been searching for. He would like to lick
her
off his fingers. Inside, with the scent of her filling the room, he’d had no control. He needed oxygen to think straight.

He puffed up like a prize rooster. She wanted him, not Andre. His heart somersaulted, like it was the best news of his life, when, in fact, things were suddenly, infinitely more complicated.

He could worship her and make sure she never doubted her desirability again. But, if he let himself get close to her, would he be able to send her away to a new household when it was time?

The iron-sharp smell of his mother’s blood, spilled in her own bath and never forgotten, cut through the scent of Lena’s arousal. Yes. He would send Lena away, because he could not destroy her. But for a little while, before he found her a job, he could be a doting lover.

Ready to make his proposal, he opened the pantry door.

She’d curled up on the floor, cheek pressed to the tile and face beet-red. She cried with her fist in her mouth so he wouldn’t hear her sobs. As he entered, she turned her face away.

Krist
. She thought he’d rejected her.

“Lena.” He knelt, touching her chin to turn her tear-stained face. Her eyes were red and her nose ran, and still she was achingly beautiful.

He lifted her off the ground and cradled her to his chest for a moment, then set her down on the top of the stepladder. “Lena—”

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Leave me alone.”

He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her, glad to actually use it for once. She ran her thumb across his embroidered initials before dabbing the thing against her face. When she finished, he shoved the damp cloth into his pocket and gripped the back of her head to kiss her. She opened her mouth with surprise and he seized the opportunity. No teasing, no coaxing. His tongue was in her mouth, searching out hers. She gasped when he found it and began to stroke her.

She went limp, all the tension in her body escaping as she surrendered to his kiss. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she matched his enthusiasm.

Their tongues met clumsily until they found a rhythm—stroking and teasing each other. Their teeth collided, and Lena pulled back, laughing. All the awkwardness of the day vanished, and the easy comfort between them returned.

He dove for her mouth. Her soft lips sent sparks skittering over his skin. His heart pounded at double time. If only he had more hands, more mouths, so he could consume all of her. He’d wanted her for so long, but she’d been off limits, beyond reach. He never once imagined what it would be like between them.
Krist.
It was electric. He’d never felt anything like it.