“She hates you. Yeah. I get that. At the same time, she needs all the good influences she can get. She’s teetering on the brink, Orion.”
I shook my head. “If I get closer, she’ll jump off the edge to get away from me.”
He scratched his cheek again. “Yeah. That’s probable. So, you’re not going down with that ship? That’s a practical choice, and you’re nothing if not eminently reasonable, except for this whole Baker fiasco. Makes me think you never really loved Olivia.”
I sighed. “I’ll always love her. She’s so much like me. Too much like me. I’ve always understood her too well.”
“Not like Tancetta,” he said with a slight smirk.
I stared at him before I smiled slowly. “Nothing like Tancetta. Would you mind cornering ‘him’ after classes on Monday and escorting him to my room?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Your room? That’s a little bit personal. Are you going to unmask him?”
I shook my head. “No. He’s who he says he is. Let’s keep it simple.”
He laughed. “Too late for that, Orion. But we’ll pretend.”
I turned and left him. The weekend was my busiest time as Butcher with very little time to think about cream puffs or pale green eyes surrounded by mesmerizing dark eyelashes that I could still feel tickling my chest. I shouldn’t have pulled her against me that way. I should be calm, poised, a respectful Butcher who didn’t take advantage of those who were under my jurisdiction. I needed to think of her like that or I would take what I wanted from her, and I wanted everything.
By Monday morning, I was exhausted, but I had one of my Butchers successfully integrated with the band of rebel Butchers. Classes weren’t challenging enough to keep me from thoughts of how to convince her to take my energy on a regular basis, and bake me more cream puffs.
After class, I pulled a canister of chocolate out of a cupboard and put some water on the electric coil in my fairly spacious room.
“What?” she demanded in a blustering voice as she entered the room, then stopped, taking in my dorm that was at least three times larger than hers. Hopefully it smelled like spice instead of sweaty socks. My bed was neatly made, black duvet and black pillow. On my otherwise bare walls an ornate cross hung over my bed. There was a table, a hotplate, and a saucepan of hot chocolate beside the low black couch that I hoped looked unstudied.
She sniffed. “What kind of chocolate did you use? It smells…”
“You can have some,” I said casually, glancing up from the desk where I’d been bent over a stack of sheaves of scrolls on tooth marks similar to those of a tiger.
“No, thanks.”
I frowned and tried to look insulted. “My chocolate isn’t good enough for you? I figure it’s the least I could do after I basically stole those cream puffs from you. To tell you the truth, I’d been craving fresh pastry all week.”
She scowled at me, trying to hold onto her irritation at being dragged to my room, but failing. “Cinnamon. You should add cinnamon. It already smells a little spicy. What, Brazilian chocolate? I was just thinking about hot chocolate.”
“Sit down, Sebastian,” I said, nodding towards the couch.
She sat down on the edge before she realized how prim and girly she looked then sprawled back with her legs spread out.
“Yo. What do you want, dude?”
I raised my eyebrow and tried not to laugh. ‘Dude’ was a bit much. “You have a sister.”
She nodded and shifted uncomfortably, like I was going to unmask her at any moment.
“As you know, I’m struggling to woo the fair Olivia. What do girls like?”
She flinched then her mouth tightened and she looked at me with those incredibly pale green eyes, hurt in them.
“Olivia?”
I should have said something else, because apparently she didn’t like hearing me talk about Olivia. My stomach twisted but I only shrugged and stood, walking over to the hot chocolate to stir it so curls of steam rose, kissing my face. I felt suddenly too hot in my white tank with the black soft pants I wore to relax in. I felt less relaxed the longer she sat there in what looked like three shirts and jeans. The room was hot, too hot for three shirts.
“Girls in general,” I finally said pouring the liquid into black mugs.
She shook her head tightly. “Girls aren’t the same. What Olivia likes isn’t anything close to what my sister would find attractive. I hope. I really don’t think I can help you,” she said, rising to her feet.
I pushed her back down, feeling the shock of contact that barely made me aware of the chocolate. I shouldn’t push her around. She was delicate, precious, but if I treated her carefully, she’d know that I knew, and then she might run away. There was something independent and wild about her.
I sat down beside her, handing her a cup. After a slight pause, she took it carefully from my hand making certain that our skin did not touch.
“What does Olivia like?” I asked.
“A challenge.” She frowned down at the liquid. “She’s been chased so much that she’s bored with it. The more your pursue, the less interested she is.”
“It’s a little late to change tactics now.” I frowned at her. She should be drinking the chocolate. Anyone could see that she was drained, exhausted emotionally and physically. She shouldn’t be up in the night baking. If she did, I had to help her with her depleted energy. The chocolate was very special. My father made it for Landry when he was particularly grouchy and didn’t feel like absorbing my father’s energy. I suppose it could get irritating, always needing to make the connection that you couldn’t help but be deeply affected by. Maybe she didn’t want to be connected to me.
“Tactics? What do you know about her? What’s her favorite movie, color, thing to do? What makes her sad, happy, giggle hysterically? She’s a person, not a video game princess. Even if she’s rather superficial and boring, she’s still more three-dimensional than you give her credit for.”
“I see,” I said, frowning thoughtfully. What made Miss Tancetta sad, happy, giggle hysterically? I wanted to hear it. Maybe she was ticklish. I’d never tickled someone in my entire life. I’d probably hurt her. “And your sister is not like Olivia because she’s ugly and spends all her time in homeless shelters and animal shelters when she’s not falling into pools?”
She bristled. I needed to work on joking. “She’s practical. She has short hair, shorter than mine, and hates wearing clothes that get in the way of how she moves.”
“Not like you in your multiple layers. Are you cold?” I leaned forward and inhaled the steam above my cup. Besides chocolate, I could smell her, the faintest hint of vanilla and jasmine that made my mouth water.
She took a sip to keep from answering. Finally. I watched her pupils dilate as the taste, sweet and spicy with a hint of vanilla and a swirl of hazelnut distracted her from whatever she’d been thinking. When she looked up at me, her eyes were the most luminous, soft green I’d ever seen. I had sudden difficulty swallowing.
“This is good.” Her voice was this low, breathy purr as she closed her eyes, savoring another mouthful.
“It should be.” I sank down beside her so our shoulders touched. She would have moved away, but she couldn’t do anything other than float on sweet chocolate fantasies. “You should send your sister some.”
She sat upright, blinking at me out of her daze. “My sister.” She stared at me like she wasn’t sure if she was awake or asleep. Maybe I shouldn’t have used quite so much of the special chocolate for her first time.
“When is she coming to visit?” I asked.
She blinked at me. “She’s coming…”
“She’s your only sibling. I imagine that you’ll see her for fall break. You can’t just abandon her with her annoying relatives.” Why was I pushing her? Because I needed to see her as Violetta. I needed to touch her and smile at her and not have to remember that she was a boy. Selfish, but that was it.
She swallowed a few times before she nodded.
“Of course I wouldn’t abandon my sister. It’s just that she’s busy with work, and I’m trying to get my grades…”
“You should go see her.” I put my hand on her shoulder. “I’ll give you a ride.”
She stared at me horrified before she nodded. “Yeah. I mean, no. She’s coming here. She’ll be here staying with my cousin, so I’ll see her there.”
“Really?” I studied her while she nodded, definite. She was so adorable and I was evil for manipulating her. “You should go to the museum. She would love the display they have there right now.” I stood up and offered her my hand. I wasn’t good at small talk. If she didn’t leave, I was going to hold her until she was full of my energy. Holding might not be the only thing I’d be doing.
She took my hand, gasping at the shock of our touch. I fed my energy into her, sustaining her while I felt weakness and euphoria at her touch, the smoothest skin around the toughened pads of her fingers. I hauled her up, lifting her off the ground at the end.
“You’re light,” I said dropping her hand. It would be so easy to pick her up and carry her somewhere. Why would I want to do that?
She swallowed hard before she shrugged and rubbed her hand on her jeans. “Chemo,” she said, heading towards the door.
“If you happen to need anyone to eat your cream puffs, you know where you can find me.” I crossed my arms over my chest before I accidentally touched her again.
“Yeah. Yep. See ya,” she said and bolted for the door.
I closed the door behind her, leaning my head on the door while exhaustion and euphoria filled me past the brim. I needed her to bake me something. I was so hungry. Hungry for another touch, but I’d settle for a cream puff. I should have saved some.
I groaned as I dropped onto the couch, closing my eyes and inhaling vanilla and jasmine and aching, just aching for one more taste.
Chapter 14
The Baker
After our bizarre chocolate encounter, I felt like I sleep-walked back to my room to stare blankly at my homework. He hadn’t stuck a knife into the wall. That hot chocolate had been the most incredible thing I’d ever had. I couldn’t focus on a book. That was too dead, too boring. Who cared about John Donne or anyone else who was dead? I was alive. I felt so alive, like my particles were vibrating at an extra high frequency. What did he see in Olivia? Other than perfect hair, skin, nails, teeth, etc. But there should be more. There must be more. People weren’t shallow cut-outs in black and white.
They were all shades of chocolate as rich and deep as chocolate pudding. I shook images of chocolate and Orion out of my head. Chocolate wasn’t even my first choice. I liked other things much better. Things like raspberry truffles. Chocolate raspberry truffles drizzled in glistening dark chocolate.
I needed a chocolate man made out of his hot chocolate. I could still taste the sweet liquid pool in my mouth and trickle down my throat filling my whole body with warmth and joy.
Why couldn’t I forget about him? If only his touch didn’t affect me even more than the chocolate. I could rationalize away the incredibleness about the chocolate, but how could I explain how he made me feel?
I stayed up, staring into the dark ceiling while the bizarre urge to bake filled me with a peculiar longing for garlic and rosemary infused Italian flatbread instead of pastry. I rolled over, groaning and covering my head with a pillow while I tried to ignore the needling urge to bake.
The compulsion would make more sense if I was a food addict. I wasn’t. All I cared about was that first bite, making certain that it was perfect before I could go back to bed. I’d spent hours and hours cooking for Bas in the last few months, messing with baking soda levels and adding pinches of this and that from my mother’s herb garden until it was just right. I could tell when it was perfect. That feeling, that taste, like the crisp crunchy perfection of the cream puffs I’d pulled from the oven was what I needed when stress levels started creeping higher, when I became overwhelmed with the loneliness of being surrounded by boys, a sacrifice I couldn’t be sure Sebastian would even appreciate.
What was I doing with my life? I’d been so eager, so excited to go on to college, to study culinary arts and botany, maybe with a minor in chemistry, but after the funeral, closed caskets at my own parent’s funeral, the money vanished. Lawyers, cemetery fees, all of it ate up our home, the only thing I had left of my parents. I missed them so much. My mother always smelled like her garden. Herbs were her specialty. My dad, he’d been an accountant. Boring, but it paid the bills, and he always made sure we were okay. His hugs made me feel so much better. He’d wanted so much for Sebastian to make it at the elite school, to join the ranks of the inbred clique. That wasn’t fair. Orion was many things; inbred wasn’t one of them.
Why couldn’t I think of him without thinking about chocolate? It wasn’t natural, wasn’t right. I annoyed myself. Particularly up at night fantasizing about baking bread and hoping that Orion would come in and throw a knife at my head. Something was seriously wrong with me.
With a sigh I kicked off the blankets and pulled on two sweatshirts and Sebastian’s old sneakers. Now his feet were huge. Like Orion’s. They’d been kind of adorable on the blue wrestling mat, not like his chest. I forced down images of chiffon pie with cocoa infusion and slouched down the hall past the tightly shut doors behind which any sane person would be snoring blissfully away.
I stepped into the kitchen, flipped on the light and stared at the dark-haired guy with perfectly symmetrical features who gave me a half smile that showed his pearly whites. Not chocolate. Not egg-whites.
“Orion. What are you doing up?”
He was wearing an extremely large black hoodie so loose he looked big but not as overwhelmingly beautiful as usual.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he said with another smile. “I don’t suppose you’re going to make cream-puffs?”
I shook my head as I went to the cupboard with the flour. I’d be kneading for long time. I found the spices and sniffed the rosemary. Not very fresh but it would have to do. I dumped the whole thing into the dough before crushing garlic, the scent wafting through the kitchen nothing like chocolate.
I dug into the dough, pushing down with all my energy and focus. If I could get this right, I could go to bed and sleep. The sleep would be complete, dreamless, restful perfect sleep. I would not dream or think about chocolate and Orion, the gorgeous guy whose touch I craved and who adored Olivia. I shook my head tightly, focusing on the dough, the stickiness transforming to silk under my hands with added flour until it was ready to rise.
I turned on the oven and arranged the rounds on a pan above the stove. I collapsed on the stool on the other end from Orion where he’d sat in silence through the whole process. I felt exhausted, but still wired, unable to sleep in spite of the exhaustion. Not until it was done. That would be at least an hour and a half. I put my face down on the table. I should have brought homework.
“So, do you do this often?”
I shrugged with my face still against the table. I hated the wig with a passion. I wanted to stick it down the garbage disposal. At least it didn’t smell of swamp.
“I’m kind of hoping that you do. The last time we ran into each other here, you made those incredible cream puffs. I can’t stop thinking about them. They were perfect. Exactly what I needed. I don’t eat a lot of sweets. I don’t like sweet. But those were perfect. Not too sweet, not too anything. You’re really talented.”
I lifted my head to scowl at him. I was Sebastian. I should be scowling. I didn’t want to, I wanted to hear him talk about how much he liked my cream puffs. “Thanks, man. Have you gotten lucky with Olivia yet?”
He raised his dark eyebrows and I licked my lips as I realized what I’d just said.
“I meant if you’ve gotten her to go out with you yet, not anything else.”
He smiled at me, a full smile that softened his features a little bit. He was perfect for her. Both of them had that unnaturally perfect look, not cute, no, I would never
be able to call Orion cute. Sexy, handsome, delicious, enticing, dangerous, responsible, thoughtful, serious, perfect, but not cute.
“No luck,” he said with a shrug. “She would rather think of us as former associates than anything more.”
“Associates?” I asked, looking at him skeptically.
He shrugged. “How did your parents die?”
I opened my mouth and closed it. He knew. He didn’t want to blurt out, ‘your parents were killed by tigers’ because that’s the least rational thing in the world, but true all the same.
“They were attacked by wild animals,” I said scraping the metal table with my thumbnail. “Escaped from the zoo.”
He nodded. “You look tired,” he said after a few minutes. “Don’t you want to go to bed?”
I gaped at him for a moment before I shook my head, trying to get the image of his bed out of my head. What was wrong with me? “Can’t. Not until it’s done. That’s the gig. I get up and cook and then I go to bed when it’s right.”
He frowned at me. “Not just cream puffs?”
I shrugged. “It’s whatever happens. I’m going to do strudel someday. I’ve never made strudel. My sister did gymnastics, but me, I was all about the cooking. My mom’s herb garden was the best. I can’t wait until the herbs are more established here so that I can cook with them. Who wants stale rosemary when they can have fresh?”
“I think that there is fresh rosemary in the garden. I’ll get you some.” He half rose when I grabbed his arm, holding him there, half glad for the long sleeve over his skin, half irritated by it. I pulled away, letting him get up if he wanted to.
“It’s fine. I mean, I don’t want to bother you. It’s not your cooking compulsion, and it’s way too much garlic and rosemary to be palatable. Seriously, some of the things I bake are completely vile. I’m afraid that this is one of those times.”
He smiled at me, a strange slow smile that made my throat tighten. “We can go together. If you’re going to wait for the dough to rise, it will give you something to do.”
I stared at him and found myself nodding, following him to a large metal door that he unlocked, a metal bar on top and bottom of the door to keep it closed securely before he pushed it open and held it, waiting for me to pass through and into the dark shadows first.
Butcher, Baker, Vampire Slayer: A Retelling of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night Page 12