“The oath stands. And feel free to call me Kara.”
“I find your compliance cute.”
“People tend to think I’m cute. Cute and harmless. I wonder why? Maybe it’s the hair.” I tugged at a strand that had escaped my bun. “Or the dimples.” I turned my cheek to him and made a half-smile to reveal them. “It’s a gift and a cur?—”
The word fell without completion. The wordcurseno longer carried the frivolity it once had. My friend may die because of a curse, and I was oath bound to a shadow god because of a curse.
The headache I’d managed to keep at bay was insistently at my temple. A pulsing pain that was a combination of hunger and the situation.
Cirrian strolled toward me with the same enigmatic look that settled between intrigue, challenge, and comfortable arrogance. A storm dwelled in his deep eyes and when he was just inches from me, he leaned down.
“Kara. I have food. Would you like some?”
I had perfected the art of being a Petty Princess, but Cirrian made me want to take it to embarrassingly extreme levels. If my stomach hadn’t rumbled so loud, I would have declined out of pettiness. The enticing aroma of the food made that impossible. The bag bearing the logo of my favorite Indian restaurant ensured I’d eat something. I took a seat while he placed chicken masala and naan on the table. He revealed a large bowl of chatpata tikka, and I wasn’t declining any of it. I pointed to the cabinets with the plates. He found silverware in the drawers without issue.
Noting how familiar he was with my home, I savored the food although I wanted to eat quickly because every moment spent eating was time taken from tasks. Instead of eating, Cirrian’s attention had settled on me. I could feel the weight of it as I cut into the chicken and ate a piece, the flavor blooming over my tongue. I tore a piece of naan, still warm, and dragged it through the sauce until it soaked through, then folded it into my mouth. Hunger won. Any pretense of restraint evaporated as I moved from chicken to rice. I barely paused to breathe, the flavors stacking on top of one another, satisfying the hunger I had ignored.
“I made the right choice?” he asked. The earnest request and need for approval surprised me.
I nodded and rushed out a “Thank you” between bites.
“The chaotic minx becomes quite pleasant when fed. I’ll remember that.”
Letting the comment slide, I ate a few spoonsful of chatpata tikka before getting up and placing the remainder in the fridge.
“You won’t let it overstay it’s freshness like the other food, will you?” he asked, rather pointedly.
I peered into my fridge to see that many of the takeout containers had been removed. The restaurant bags I hadn’t thrown away or stored to reuse, were gone. The previous week had been chaotic; I hadn’t had time to clean and I’d eaten takeout more often than usual. The leftovers hadn’t gone bad but were in that questionable state where it was wiser to toss them.
“You’ve made yourself at home,” I said through gritted teeth and a forced smile.
“How else would I’ve known where to get food?”
“Don’t make yourself at home here. It’smyprivate space.”
He sat back, the simple movement drawing attention to his fit, alluring form that couldn’t be ignored. I tried to keep my eyes on his face, but that wasn’t any better. It was equally distracting and devastatingly beautiful. It made me unreasonably annoyed.
Returning my stare, he managed to come off enthralling and aggressively brooding.
“Since I’m a coerced guest, isn’t itourspace?”
I returned to my seat with a plop, refusing to dignify his statement with a response.
“Do the collected ever see you?” I asked instead. I was curious as to why such beauty would be wasted on him. Did all shadow gods look like this? If the person didn’t see them, they might as well be ogres. Assuming they had a say in the way theyappeared. Could they cast glamours? Some witches could but not for long enough to be useful.
“I think it’s best to render my existence unknown.”
“No one sees you?” I clarified.
He hesitated for so long that I regretted engaging him in conversation. It was just another time waster, and I wasn’t acquiring any useful information.
“What is the purpose of this question?” he asked.
“Curiosity, as with any question.”
“I know that. But why are you curious?”
Realizing it was going to take more effort than I wanted to exert, I shrugged it off. “You have to be very aware of how you look. I just wondered if it was useful to have such esthetics if it isn’t their last vision.”
