Page 54 of Imprisoned with the Vampire King

She waited.

I looked up at the roof of the car. "We had another conversation. I told him I didn't want his money, and said I just needed noodle cups. He said his mate wasn't surviving on noodle cups."

"What are noodle cups?"

"Styrofoam cups full of hard noodles that you add hot water to."

"Gross."

"They're delicious, and cheap." I sighed. Loudly. "Anyway. I told him that my unpleasant fallen angel blood is the equivalent of noodle cups, so he has no reason to take issue with my choice of food. He was even more pissed after that, and said it wasn't unpleasant. I reminded him that he said I tasted like a nightmare, and he basically lost his mind. He threw me in his car, and took off. Hasn't said a word since."

"God," Jazz said with a groan. "Do you know anything about demons?"

"How would I know anything about demons? Did you know anything about angels before you mated with my dickhead brother?"

"Not really. And River's not⁠—"

I interrupted her. "I've known Dante for less than ten days, and we haven't even been mated for one. So yeah, I know almost nothing about demons."

"That's fair," Jazz admitted grudgingly. "You basically just said and did all of the most offensive things possible to a demon. And he's not just a demon—he's your mate. That makes everything much worse."

I blinked. "How?"

"Feeding on an immortal being is intimate, and demons take it very seriously. We're trained to see it as a privilege. Accusing one of us of not being satisfied by that privilege would be like accusing someone of hating the most expensive meal at the most expensive restaurant."

"Not everyone would like every meal."

"It's not a perfect metaphor. All you need to know is that accusing Dante of not being satisfied by his mate's blood is the worst possible insult you could give him. If you were anyone but his mate, he'd probably kill you for it. And you didn't just accuse him of not being satisfied. You said he told you it was as disgusting as styrofoam noodles."

"The noodles themselves aren't Styrofoam, and that's not exactly what I said. Also, cup noodles aren't disgusting."

"You said they're cheap. He sees you as the fanciest restaurant in the fucking world, and you accused him of seeing you as a meal that costs, what, five dollars?"

"One," I admitted grudgingly.

Technically, I'd told him they only used to cost a quarter.

"And you did that after asking another man for money," she pointed out.

"I get it. I've unintentionally insulted him horribly. For the record, he did say my blood tastes like darkness, though."

"Ophelia, he's a demon. We feel at home in the shadows. You only think darkness is an insult because you grew up equating light magic with good and dark magic with bad."

"How do you know that?"

"I'm mated to an angel, remember?

I made a face. "My fucked-up childhood doesn't mean that Dante likes the way my blood tastes. He didn't say it like it was a compliment, and he can't like that I'm fallen. No one does. Including me."

"He wouldn't have mated with you if he didn't like the way your blood tastes. It wouldn't even be possible for a vampire to do that. And he doesn't care that you fell. He was telling us about your wings yesterday. He said they're beautiful."

The tension in my lower belly uncurled a little. "Why was he talking about my wings?"

"We spent the day catching up. Grayson asked if you had wings. We're family; we were just talking. That was the only thing he said about them. He likes you, so stop worrying."

"I'm not worrying about him liking me," I said defensively. "He just fucking abducted me."

Her scoff was audible. "Is he still in the building?"