Standing beneath the shower, as cold as
he could get it, he waited for the frigid water to slice over his skin, controlling
the burn. Making a trip into the mountains wouldn’t help. The new Queen of the
Succubi wanted him too badly, although she hid it better than had her deceased
predecessor, a fountain of pure evil. Still, he doubted he’d return from a run
to Demon Hall.
By the time he slid into his seat at the
head of the long, formal dining table, he’d managed to clamp a lid on the
furnace broiling within. Not that he considered himself human, even on the best
of days. But the shower had brought his temperature down. He glanced at his
reflection in the back of a soup spoon.
“Your eyes are lighter,” Blackburn
confirmed. “Almost normal.”
“Yeah, if normal is the color of dirty
snow. Or ash.”
“Opaline gray.”
“As a matter of fact, I could use a new
tube of Opaline gray, if you’re ordering. Also, Mars black. I’ll get you a
list.” Raines dipped his spoon into the bowl of chilled gazpacho Blackburn had
served, but looked up when the majordomo remained silent. “What?” His
razor-thin patience wouldn’t tolerate social diplomacy today.
Blackburn cleared his throat. “You could
use a woman, sir, is what you could use.”
“Yeah. Don’t go there. You know the
drill. Unless you want to sweep
Opaline gray ashes off the sheets?” His stomach grumbled and he turned to the
cold, delicately spiced mélange of tomatoes and peppers with gusto.
When the silver utensil clattered against
the delicate china, Blackburn sighed and whisked the empty bowl away. He
returned a few minutes later with a crystal goblet filled with ice and ringed
with an artistic array of shrimp and lemon wedges.
“I sense a theme.” Raines speared a jumbo
shrimp on a tiny cocktail fork and squirted it with lemon.
“I didn’t think hot
and sizzling would be your preference."
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