“Ducks? I don’t think so. Ducks haven’t hurt anyone.” Dalton sent me a pointed look.
“They were, I swear.” I groaned. I shouldn’t have said anything because now I wasn’t going to live this down.
“You probably meant geese,” Dalton said.
“Nope. Ducks. Why does no one believe me?”
Dalton shrugged, gesturing for me to follow him as he turned on his heel and stalked back toward the house. On the way past, he slapped his hand against Samael’s back again and guided him up the stairs onto the porch and through the front door. I couldn’t do anything but follow, catching the front of my shoe on the top step and nearly tripping onto my face. I saved myself before disaster struck.
I followed them into a modest entrance way with dark wood floorboards and white walls. It was open and airy. The only thing in sight as we walked in was a tall grandfather clock madeof wood a few shades lighter than the floor. It ticked softly, the pendulum gently swaying, and I couldn’t help but stop and admire the beautiful antique.
“It belonged to my father.”
The voice startled me, and I glanced to my right. Samael and Dalton had paused at a rectangular archway that clearly led through to the dining room, if the table and chairs behind them said anything.
Dalton nodded at the clock. “I said it belonged to my father and before that his father. A family heirloom.”
“Oh.” I smiled and gave it a final look before I walked toward them again, my shoes squeaking on the wood. “It’s nice.” Then, I stopped and frowned. “I wasn’t going to steal it.”
Dalton’s eyebrows shot up, and Samael cocked his head in confusion.
“Okay?” Dalton laughed, his entire face lighting up in amusement that made me feel little and stupid. “I didn’t think you were. If you can steal a big-assed clock like that, then you deserve to keep it. It weighs a ton.”
I glared at him and stepped back, but Samael reached out and snagged my wrist so I couldn’t make a quick escape. His lips twisted and he dragged me closer. He released me again because he signed with Dalton. Whatever he said made Dalton’s eyes widen, and he smiled apologetically at me.
“I wasn’t saying you’d steal. It was a joke. A bad one.” He scratched the back of his neck and sighed. “More of an inside joke. My dad always said that if we were ever robbed, they’d take everything but that clock because of how heavy it is.”
Embarrassed heat attacked my cheeks and I glanced away, staring at the walls and how incredibly bare they were. I wasn’t much of a decorator myself, but I imagined I’d havesomethingon the walls in my home, even if it was cheap artwork. The trainof thought made me forget the shame of getting so worked up for no reason, and I turned back to them with a nod.
Dalton grinned and waved for me to follow. We walked into the dining room together, and I didn’t miss the way Samael touched my arm gently, almost as though asking if I was okay.
I nodded, though I hated how much of a fool I’d made of myself. It’d been so long since I’d been this close to another person that I’d forgotten everything but the nastiness of human beings. Oh, there were the charitable people, too, who acted like they deserved a Nobel Prize for putting a dollar beside me, but I pretended they didn’t exist. I didn’t need or want their help.
Samael was a different story. He didn’t give me a dollar or bring me a cheap meal he bought from a gas station—he’dkilledfor me. The thought made my skin flush for a different reason, and I smiled at him in answer to his inaudible question of whether I was all right. Yes, I was definitely okay right now.
“Come here and taste this cheese I made,” Dalton said, waving his hand at us and nearly skipping through to the kitchen.
Samael shook his head and grinned, but he grabbed my elbow and dragged me, as though he expected me to run in the opposite direction. Nothing could make me do that, especially not with the strange feeling cooking in my stomach. The heat, the need, the security—it was new and delicious.
“Is there a reason we’re here?” I asked, genuinely curious why Samael would bring me out to his cousin’s farm.
We’d walked into the kitchen just as I spoke, and Dalton turned to us from where he stood beside one of the counters. He grinned, his blond shoulder-length waves jumping with the sudden jolt of his head.
“Because I’m the cousin, and I get the final say on whether we trust you or not,” Dalton answered.
“Did I pass the test?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” He smiled anyway and it wasnice, and I didn’t really know what to make of it. I awkwardly returned the smile. Maybe I looked demented because grinning never came easy to me.
“What happens if I don’t?”
“I add you to the cheese. Human meat gives it an earthy flavor.” He was so serious I stared for the longest time and only let out a breath of relief when he threw an amused smile over his shoulder.
Samael laughed, too, and I sent him a mock glare.
“I’m joking,” Dalton said as he grabbed a container from the fridge, presenting it to us. “Human doesn’t taste good in cheese. I’d feed you to the pigs.”
“Glad you’re more like Robert Pickton than Hannibal Lecter.” I stared down at the cheese and my gut growled at the thought of putting a gourmet cube in my mouth. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten a piece and I used to always love it. My grandmother was quite the cheese connoisseur, encouraging me at a young age to try different kinds until I knew what type it was by a simple taste.
