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“We have plenty of it.”
His lips go into a straight line as he nods. “I’m gonna take a shower.”
He tries to walk past me, making a beeline for the black spiral staircase that leads to the upper level of the cabin. Up there is a loft bedroom and the only bathroom.
“Hey!” I say, pushing the skillet to another burner as I approach him.
He stops and looks at me like a petulant child with an attitude. I take a few seconds to study him and notice the set of his freshly shaved jaw, so the tension is obvious. His arms are to his sides, but his thumbs are anxiously rubbing against his forefingers.
Blood. I spot it in his nail beds. He tried washing it off, but it’s hard to get rid of, especially if there’s a lot. My gaze drops to his boots where I recognize the crimson splatter.
“What were you up to, Kaspian?” I ask, sliding my hands in my pockets.
“Nothing.”
“You come in here wearing the blood of some stranger and expect me not to notice? Or care?”
“Why would you care?” he asks. “Is blood only your thing? I can’t have a little fun with it?”
I bite down, keeping my anger in check. “Were you careful?”
He scoffs. “Yes, Dad. I was careful.”
“Not if you came in here with blood visible on your shoes and fingers.”
“You think I don’t know what I’m doing? I was always a step ahead of you, Quintin. Don’t forget that.”
My nostrils flare as we stay locked in a staring contest. He finally breaks away and stomps upstairs. I can only keep my fury tamped down long enough to plate and cover the food before I’m following him to the bathroom.
How dare he kill someone without even telling me, especially considering he knows how long it’s been. Does he not see the effect it’s having on me? On us? To do something that we’ve been doing together for the past two years to feed both of our dark and dysfunctional tastes and not include me? Infuriating.
It’s been months. He usually finds someone, stalks them, makes sure there will be nobody looking for them once they’re gone, then we come together for the bloody finale of their lives.
I find him in the shower. We have a wet room, so just past the sinks to the left and the toilet on the right, I walk through the doorway and watch as the water from the wide, raindrop shower head pours over him. Nearly ten feet away on the other side is our wide, white porcelain tub, so we have plenty of room in here.
With my clothes still on, I approach him from behind and place my hands on his waist. He jumps at my touch.
“What the fuck?”
The warm water begins to soak me. “What’s your problem, Kaspian?” I ask. “Do you have an issue you’d like to discuss?”
He spins around, the water hitting only his back now. “I don’t have an issue, Quin. Do you?”
“Yes,” I answer honestly. “Why would you kill someone without me? Have you been stalking this person?”
His lips quirk up on one side. “Oh. Jealous?”
“You know me,” I say in a low tone.
“I thought I did.”
“What the fuck does that even mean?”
He shakes his head before turning his back to me. “Never mind. I’m sorry, okay? I had a bad day.”
“You had a bad day,” I repeat.
“Yep.”
