His eyes flashed to the glowing medical symbol on her arm. It was so warm, it nearly burned her. “What will help?”
“Some crackers, if you have any.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “And juice.”
Darien rifled through the dark wood cupboards until he found some salted crackers. He set the box before her, along with a glass of fruit juice. She ate in silence for a few minutes, no sound to be heard but the ticking of the clock and the humming of the refrigerator—and her own chewing that she was far too aware of. Her mouth was so dry, the crackers felt like paste on her tongue.
As if noticing how uncomfortable she was with being watched, Darien began opening drawers and cupboards and sifting through the contents. “What do you want for real food?”
“You don’t have to make me anything.”
But he only repeated, “What do you want for real food?”
The crackers scraped her throat as she swallowed another mouthful. “Surprise me.”
Loren finished off one sleeve of crackers and a second glass of juice as Darien went on to cook a full meal in a shorter amount of time than she thought possible. The aroma of garlic and parmesan made her stomach growl, despite the two-dozen-or-so crackers she’d just scarfed back.
When he was finished, he set a bowl of pasta with chicken in front of her, stuck a fork in it, and said, “Eat.” He watched as she twirled a few noodles around her fork, blew on them, and popped them into her mouth.
Holyhell, he could cook. The mix of flavours was out of this world, and she found herself already desiring seconds.
“Bounty hunter and chef,” she mused. “I have to admit I’m impressed. Who taught you how to cook like this?”
“I taught myself.” He returned to the stove to clean up. “That’s what happens when you grow up without a father who gives enough of a shit to show you how to do simple things, like cook.” There was zero emotion in his voice. And the reason Loren didn’t question him about it was because she knew how it felt to be grilled about her past. And even though he’d done that very thing to her several hours ago, she didn’t like the idea of doing it to him.
Darien cleaned up the kitchen in all of five minutes, and then he leaned back against the counter by the stove and continued to watch her. It was unsettling, despite how much of a pleasure it was forherto look athim.
And then she realized something. “Why aren’t you eating?”
He shrugged with one shoulder. “I’m not hungry.”
Loren narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t eat at Rook and Redding’s either.” She dropped her fork in the pasta and folded her arms on the counter. “If you’re not eating, neither am I.”
The smirk he gave her showed the dimple in his cheek. “Is that a fact?”
“Yes, it’s a fact. I’m surprised you’re not built like a beanpole, considering how little I’ve seen you eat.” No, he certainly wasn’t a beanpole. He was perfectly proportioned and strong, and she knew without having to look that he had a washboard for a stomach beneath that shirt. If she let herself be honest about it, he reminded her of the marble statues of flawlessly muscled gods in the Temple of the Scarlet Star.
Loren didn’t break his gaze as she waited. Darien relented after a moment, and then dished himself up from the remaining pot on the stove. And only once he’d picked up his fork and took a bite did Loren resume eating her own food. He was finished with his just as fast as he did everything else, and then loaded his bowl and fork into the dishwasher.
Loren eyed him up. “Did you even chew?”
That broad mouth twitched at the corner. “A little.”
A dark blur atop the fridge caught her eye. The Hob moved so quickly she barely saw its fiery black silhouette before it ducked behind the boxes of puffed rice and granola.
A moment later, its shadowy little face peeked out at her, red eyes glowing. She ignored it and reached for her glass of juice.
But Darien noticed where her attention had gone. “Mortifer spends most of his time in the kitchen. He likes to eat the ice chips.”
Loren’s eyebrows flicked up. “And how does…Mortiferfeel about having been purchased for your own gain?” Hobs were only available through the Umbra Forum. As incredibly powerful creatures that had the ability to protect a person’s home from threats and detection by bounty hunters and other dangerous people, they were very expensive—and very rare.
“I didn’t purchase him,” Darien said. “He’s a rescue. Some piece-of-shit mob boss had him at his house when I was sent for his bounty. After I bagged the mob boss’s severed head, I offered Mortifer a way out. He’s here by choice, not coercion.” Darien gave her a little smile. “Kind of like someone else I know.”
“Sorry,” Loren mumbled.
“I would appreciate if you wouldn’t make assumptions about me, Calla.”
“I guess that makes two of us.”
He quirked an inky brow, but said, “Fair enough.”
