Page 51 of Imprisoned with the Vampire King

My couch had been shoved out onto the small back porch to make room for my map. Dante stepped outside after he passed me, and I ignored him.

Or tried to ignore him, anyway.

He was really freaking distracting.

I finally dropped my pencil and went to the kitchen, where he was currently pulling random food items from two grocery bags that he must've brought with him.

There was a bag of peaches.

A box of cereal.

A carton of oat milk.

Two prebiotic sodas that claimed to be healthy, despite the fact that they also claimed to be soda.

A pack of protein bars.

A bag of beef jerky, too.

"I don't know what you like to cook or eat," he grumbled, putting random things away in my otherwise empty fridge and pantry.

"I'm not picky. I've lived on cup noodles for the last year."

"What are cup noodles?"

I stepped past him to grab a styrofoam cup out of the trash, and lifted it so he could see it. "They come in here. You just dump boiling water inside. They used to cost like a quarter, but inflation got to them too, so they're at an entire dollar now. Ridiculous, right?"

There was no recognition in his eyes.

"How rich are you?" I checked.

His forehead creased. "What does that have to do with this?"

"You don't know what cup noodles are. Jazz was horrified by my perfectly fine minivan. You never asked how I afforded to live while I was trying to figure out how to break you out of my prison. The random things you brought make me think you've never been grocery shopping until today. You were late, so it took you longer than you thought it would, and you're obviously someone who plans how you spend your time."

He didn't reply right away.

Went back to putting things away in my empty cabinets, at random.

I waited, tapping my foot while I did.

"I'll have money transferred into your account by the end of the day. I just need your information," he eventually said.

"I don't want your money, Dante."

His entire body stiffened. "But you want Callum Frost's?"

"No. I don't want anyone's money. I just want enough noodle cups, gas, and utilities paid to survive until I can go back to making and selling my pottery." I dropped the foam cup back in the trash bin.

"My mate isn't surviving on noodle cups," he gritted out.

"You're surviving on nightmare blood, so it seems fair."

"What did you just say?" He turned to face me slowly.

Almost predatorily.

A trickle of excitement rolled down my spine.