“Landon.” I test it out on my own tongue—how it tastes and how it sounds in the low timbre of my voice. “I’ll start the tea right away.”
Landon grins, his lashes falling half-mast over his eyes as he stares up at me. And I sayupbecause he’s no taller than Julian is, and I tower over them both.
“Great. Please make mine lemon-ginger and include sugar and extra milk,” he commands.
I… wait.
The air around me seems to simmer, my hands moving before my brain commands them to. Landon is staring at me expectantly, like there is no way I’d be able to deny him.
And from his body, I can feel it. The tell-tale energy that pours from a man using the lot they were given in life. The gift they possess.
The breath he released when he spoke shimmers in the air around us, a light smoky color that sways and dominates the clean oxygen around it.
He’s forcing me. He’s fucking forcing me to make his tea as he pleases when he could have justasked.It’s my job, for Christ’s sake.
I pitter around, gathering three cups and dropping the correct tea bags in them as the kettle warms on the stove.
“Here visiting?” I ask, keeping my voice calm and collected.
I’ve dealt with these kinds of bastards before. The only thing he’s adding as a shock value to this situation is his startling good looks.
“Yes. My best friend Julian works here.” He says it with such pride, such affection, that it makes me want to cringe.
“That’s nice,” I offer, pouring the water into the mugs as I grab the sugar and milk. “How long are you staying for?”
Landon huffs a laugh, cocking his head at me. “Why all these questions?”
“Just curious. We don’t get visitors often.” It’s the truth. Not only do we not often have company, but I want to know how long I have before he slips away.
There is a wrong I need to right.
“Hmm,” Landon hums. “I leave later this evening.”
I mix his tea, leaving the others plain, before I set them onto a tray.
“I see.” As I speak, I lift my gaze to his, taking in the pure green of his eyes as I lean my hip against the side of the island. “One more question before you go.”
Landon stops reaching for the tray, his brow lifting as he grins at me. Oh, he thinks I’m about to flirt with him.
That’s funny.
“Go on,” he purrs.
“Do you often manipulate others into doing what you want?”
At my words, his eyes widen significantly, his arms dropping to his sides.
“Sorry?” he questions.
“I’m just curious,” I repeat, “as to why you felt the need to use your little gift on me when you could have just asked nicely like a good boy.”
His confused stare morphs into the hottest, most arrogant glare I’ve ever seen, so fast that I nearly get whiplash. “Ididask nicely. I even said please. And I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Right. Well, it seems you believed thatpleasewouldn’t cut it. Or maybe,” I say, leaning forward slightly as I return his glare, “you are just too incredibly used to persuading people that you don’t even evaluate the situation first.”
Landon stands up straighter, his eyes assessing me analytically. He’s trying to figure out an escape route. Too bad for him, I hunt men like him for breakfast, and Ineverlet my prey slip away.
“You’re awfully rude for a servant,” he comments, and I nearly flinch at the word.
