I shake my head. “Not for food,” I mutter, and he blanches.
Fortunately, Devon chooses this moment to turn up. “Hey,” he says to me, ignoring Cole.
“Hey,” I sigh. He comes around to my side of the bar and kisses my forehead. “Everything, okay?” I nod briefly. “Good.” He acknowledges Cole then. “You’re still here,” he states.
Cole nods and watches him warily.
Devon looks at me. “Aw, you told him about me. And there I was looking forward to spilling the beans.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Shut up,” I mutter. “We came back here to talk.”
“Oh, I see,” he says, but makes no move to disappear. “Have you shown him your fangs yet?” He snickers, thoroughly enjoying my discomfort.
Cole goes pale. Paler than before even and stands up, backing away abruptly.
“Devon!” I admonish. “Behave yourself.”
He just grins devilishly at me.
“Cole, ignore him, he’s an arse,” I implore him.
“Oh, my sire, how you wound me with your words.” He holds his hand over his heart as he says this, and I punch him in the shoulder. Hard, to make my point.
“Ow, okay, okay, I’ll behave. No more punching. It’s not a fair fight,” he complains.
I snort while he snickers, casting my glance at Cole, who is watching this exchange as if he can’t quite believe it.
Steeling himself, he asks, “So where does the story start?”
Devon raises an eyebrow. “You haven’t told him yet?” he asks.
“Told me what yet?” Cole asks sharply.
“I wanted to wait until we were in a more stable environment,” I say.
“What don’t I know yet?” Cole asks again.
Looking on in anticipation, Devon settles on a bar stool and pats the one next to him, saying to Cole, “You’d probably better sit down.”
Cole ignores him and glares at me to start talking.
Breathing in, I look him square in the eye. “You said before that you see a century's worth of accomplishments and wisdom?” He swallows and nods, so I continue. “Well, multiply that by ten and you’d be right,” I finish quickly.
As the math registers, his mouth drops open in shock.
“Told you to sit,” Devon says. I scowl at him to shut it.
Cole sinks onto the stool staring at me in wonder. Finding his voice, he stammers in amazement, “You’re a…a…thousand years old?”
“This year.” Devon just can’t help himself sometimes.
I sigh and say, “Yes.”
“A thousand? You were born in the year 1012?” he asks incredulously.
I shake my head and say, “No, we go by when I was turned. I was turned in 1012. I was born in the year 996.”
And with that revelation out in the open, Cole’s eyes roll up into the back of his head and he passes out.