Page 75 of How I Met Your Murderer

Eric’s eyes darkened, pupils blown wide. I wasn’t sure if he wanted me or the breakfast more, but as far as I was concerned, he was welcome to objectify us both all he liked.

I slowly swallowed my first bite. “And then the pepper kicks in, sharp and fast. Like it knows exactly what it’s doing to me and how to hit the spot.”

Eric licked his lips and nodded. “That sounds like a perfect way to start any morning.”

I moved on to the rashers, thick slices of back bacon. “This here,” I told him, gesturing with my fork, “is proper bacon. None of that Yank shite. This is juicy and tender and full of so much flavor your mouth doesn’t know what to do with it. These are . . . soft. They give when you bite, and you’ll never forget the way the smokiness lingers on your tongue.”

Eric hastily unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, like he needed to cool down, and I couldn’t help grinning to myself. When it was just the two of us like this, the world and all our problems felt so far away. It felt like we were untouchable, except to one another.

I dragged a bit of crunchy toast through the yolk of the egg, watching the gold burst and spill over the bread in a slow, thick ribbon. It dripped down the side, catching the light as Eric touched his tongue to the corner of his mouth like he was watching something indecent.

“This part’s silky,” I said, my voice lower, rough. I slid my free hand into Eric’s lap, up his thigh, and cupped him through his jeans. He was already hard for me, but I decided to lay it on thick, anyway. “It coats your mouth. Makes everything feel . . . fuller. Together, it’s almost all too much to take, you know?”

There was no mistaking the warmth radiating off him. “Raff, there are people in here,” he hissed as I rubbed my palm against his erection.

“And?” I asked innocently, spearing the last item—a bit of black pudding—on my fork.

Eric considered that for a moment. Considered me, teasing him under the relative privacy of the small table where our legs blocked the indecency of the scene from most casual glances.

“And I’m going to get you back for this,” he vowed, shifting slightly on the seat. “When you least expect it. But”—he paused, his eyelids fluttering—“don’t stop.” His gaze skimmed over the remnants of the plate, and a small smirk crossed his face as he observed, “Also, it seems like you’re trying to make me forget that we still have one thing left to taste.”

All right, I’d admit it: I couldn’t stand black pudding. Might as well hand in my passport and proof of citizenship on the spot.

“Guilty,” I growled, squeezing him through his jeans.

He had to stifle a little moan as I dutifully picked up the fork with the bite already prepped—after all, it was Eric’s soul at stake, and I’d do anything for him, even this—and shoved it in my mouth with less delicacy than the other lovely items on the plate.

I took a moment to let the flavors flood my senses. “It’s deep,” I murmured thickly, on the verge of reaching for some water to wash away the salt. “Heavy. It kind of settles right behind your ribs, like it’s moving in permanently.”

He nodded, lips pressed thin as heat rolled off of him, nearly undone—though I was taking credit for that, not the black pudding. I traced the outline of him through his trousers with a finger. “Do you want to go find someplace where we can take care of this? Shower, or—?”

I didn’t get the chance to finish making suggestions, as a cold draft swirled through the back of the room, sharp enough to sting. The lights behind us guttered violently, and I heard Mr. O’Shea curse under his breath and call out for me, like it was somehow my doing.

The air thickened with a touch of dampness, the castle drawing a breath. Or perhaps we were sat inside its open maw.

A figure formed in the pantry doorway, a wisp of smoke folding into a solid shadow with a skirt and apron.

“Eilis,” Eric said as we quickly broke apart. He had recognized the faded spirit of the lady’s maid before I did. “What’s wrong?”

Her outline kept flickering like a candle flame about to die, and her ancient voice was heavy and worldly with grief as she said, “Rafferty O’Meara. Síofra sent me to tell you that Sorcha’s gone missing. Our friend from the scullery. My lady spied her sweeping the east wing, humming one of her favorite songs, and then—she vanished on the spot. She was sucked into the stones, and she hasn’t been seen since last night. No one can find her or sense her anywhere.”

Eric went very still beside me, like he was having trouble absorbing the news. Then, slowly, resolutely, he nodded. “Okay. That’s good to know. Thanks for telling us, Eilis, and . . . be safe, okay?”

She blinked out of view right before I stammered, “But—but the black salt. I could’ve sprinkled some in the east wing, or—”

“No one in their right mind is blaming you,” Eric cut in before I could be any harder on myself, his voice steady but a little sad. “This thing is in the walls. The roots. The water. You said it yourself. It’s everywhere by nature, and you’re doing your best to warn everyone, but you’re just one person. One incredible, caring, hard-working person who needs to sleep more. Not an omnipresent murdering spirit.”

“Okay,” I sighed. “But I want to rub some more of that salt on you, at least, when we head back to the van.”

Eric gently nudged my side. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“Oh, I’ll show you a good time.” I wrapped my arms around him, and he let me draw him close. His cheek flushed where I pressed a kiss, but it felt like borrowed warmth.

Like something that could so easily be taken.

We headed to the east wing together, hand in hand, leaving our breakfast dish in the sink with a hasty apology to Mr. O’Shea.

I needed to see for myself where Sorcha had disappeared. I kept thinking about what Lorcan had babbled—something about dark hollows in the stone. I wouldn’t mind smashing my fist into something the elemental used for eyes, even if it bloodied my knuckles. Right now, I only cared that it would feel good for a minute after this thing had made me feel like I constantly had to watch my back, and Eric’s.