Blonde & Blue (Alexa O'Brien, Huntress #4)(38)

Chapter Eleven

The hum of voices coming from the television barely kept my attention. As hard as I tried to make myself follow the sitcom, I just couldn’t keep up. My thoughts were elsewhere.

I hadn’t moved from my spot on the couch for hours other than to refill my coffee mug. Wrapped in my fuzzy black robe, I stared at the moving images on the screen, but all I saw was Lena’s broken body. I’d cried myself out of tears hours ago.

A short phone conversation with Jez had provided some comfort. We shared our grief, but on some level, we were alone in our pain. Jez, Kale and I had all had our own relationship with Lena.

To me she was the mother figure I’d needed after losing my own and a teacher that helped to guide and shape the power I now held. She was too good to go out the way she had. Deep in my heart, I knew she wouldn’t want me to blame myself. Knowing that made it harder to stop.

I’d been ignoring Veryl’s calls all evening. I didn’t care what he had to say. I didn’t want to hear it. After the third call, he’d left a nasty voice mail saying that feeling sorry for myself wasn’t going to bring Lena back and that shit like this happens all the time, especially to humans. That was all I had to hear to know that I would tell Shya yes. I would happily kill Veryl.

Despite my claim that I needed a night alone, Arys had insisted on coming by. He wanted to talk. As I listened to him bang and crash things in my kitchen, I wished he would just say what was on his mind. Instead he’d been fumbling around with the coffee pot and making a poor attempt at heating lasagna.

Another crash came from the kitchen, and I cringed. No wonder I couldn’t focus on the cheesy show. “Are you ok, babe?”

“Yes!” His response was frantic. “How many sugars in your coffee? Four?”

“Two. But, you don’t need to make more coffee. I still have some.” Swirling the murky liquid in my cup, I frowned. It was pretty far from fresh.

“Too late. It’s already made. …Son of a bitch!”

Another crash of dishes got me up off the couch and heading for the short staircase that led to the kitchen. Arys met me at the top, his hands raised as if to block me.

“Don’t get up. Just go sit down, and I’ll bring it to you.” He angled his body so I couldn’t see into the kitchen.

“Arys, what did you do? I don’t expect you to cook for me. In fact, I think its best that you don’t.” Standing on my tiptoes, I tried to see over his shoulder. I was sure I’d heard something break.

“Hey, give me a little credit. I’m over three hundred years old. I’m not about to be outsmarted by a stove.” His tone was firm, but uncertainty lay in his eyes. “Besides, there’s nothing I can do to ease the pain of your loss. I just need to do something. Humor me?”

I sniffed the air, wrinkling my nose. “Is something burning?”

Arys rushed to the stove in a panic. “Shit!”

I watched him pull the blackened lasagna out of the oven and throw it on the counter. Smoke billowed out to fill the kitchen and burn my eyes. Watching the frantic vampire lose his usual cool and calm over a store-bought frozen lasagna was priceless. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt.

“I’ll just have coffee. Unless you’ve managed to burn that, too.”

He flipped me off and swore again at the burning mass that barely resembled food. It was just as well; I wasn’t hungry anyway.

I descended back into the living room to open a window before settling back into my favorite corner of the couch. I could safely say that the only man in my life I’d be trusting in the kitchen was Shaz. He was a far better cook than I was. Vampires clearly had no business messing around with food and hot appliances.

I hid a grin when Arys entered the room with a fresh mug of coffee. As soon as I caught its bitter scent, I knew I’d have to fake my way through this one. Did he dump a whole can of grounds in there? Yuck.

I took the mug with a murmur of thanks, watching pensively as Arys sat on the cushion next to me. He pulled my feet onto his lap, slipped my socks off and began to rub the sole of my right foot. The sip of coffee I took was absolutely vile, but Arys’ touch was perfect. I groaned in pleasure. His massage was magic, almost better than sex. Who was I kidding? It couldn’t compare to sex, but he hit a few major pleasure points that had me moaning like I was halfway to climax.

“You think that coffee is disgusting, don’t you?” He was eyeing me closely, watching the bliss cross my face.

“Yes. I’m sorry. I just have my own way of doing it.” Relieved, I abandoned the mug on the coffee table. “But, don’t think for a minute that I don’t appreciate the thought behind your destruction of my kitchen. I love you for trying.”

He frowned, his gaze dropping to my foot. The pressure increased, and I made a sound that could have come from an x-rated adult film. Funny how a great massage can put you in the same state of mind.

“You’re not blaming yourself, are you? You know it was for the best that you killed Harley. I hate what happened to Lena. I only met her the one time, and she was lovely. I know she meant a lot to you. But please, don’t beat yourself up over this.”

I suddenly found the television to be engrossing, if only because it allowed me to avoid meeting Arys’ eyes. “I know that, logically. I can’t help but feel a little guilty. It’s just going to take some time to deal with. I will be fine.”