“Yes. I hired one of the best mages I could find to place protective spells around the property. You’ll be safe here. As safe as anywhere, at least.”
He waited for a second after opening the door. She waited with him, tempted to fall asleep against his warm, manly-smelling T-shirt. It had been a long day.
“Charity?”
“Devon?”
“What… Can… Seriously?”
She tilted back on her heels, eyes half-open. A quick gaze to the tree line, and…
They were still standing there. Why were they still standing there?
“Go.” Charity nudged him with her chin.
He stepped to the side and scowled down at her. “Ladies first! Hurry up. I’m starving.”
“Only you are still a jerk when you’re being a gentleman.” She grinned before trudging into the house.
“At least I am being a gentleman. I bet your precious Donnie didn’t hold doors for you.”
She was about to grudgingly accede when reality slapped her. Donnie was no longer the boy she’d known. He was almost certainly a vampire.
“Sorry,” Devon murmured, closing the door behind him. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Struggling for a cleansing breath, trying not to let fear erode her courage, she glanced around. They’d entered a living room of sorts, with a huge media center off to the side. The furnishings and decorative art were classy but not showy. Everything had been bought for use rather than grandstanding. Down the hallway and to the left was another living area, but without the electronics. Two couches faced each other in front of a fireplace—a sitting room?
The next stop was the kitchen, decked out with high-dollar appliances that looked new and shiny. Also unused.
“How long have you lived here?” Charity asked, putting her stuff to the side and setting the drinks on the small, circular table in the corner, removed somewhat from the island. A formal dining room peeked out through a doorway off the kitchen.
“A little over two years. I got a bonus when I made alpha. I’m the youngest alpha since Roger.” Pride rang in his voice as he tore into the bag of greasy delight, somehow not immediately shoving a fry into his face. His control was unreal.
“Everything here looks really new,” Charity said, watching in fascination as Devon took out each component of his meal and set it in front of him, just so. He opened his hamburger, but didn’t immediately chomp down. Instead, he spread the paper, put his fries—still untested—in the corner diagonally, and his Coke directly in front of him. Only then he did he start to eat.
He also noticed her staring.
“What?” he asked through a full mouth.
“Precise, aren’t we?”
He took another bite.
She reached into the bag and extracted three fries from her carton. A body needed a little treat before she unwrapped the burger. As soon as she first saw bun, she went for it.
“Jesus. Savage.” He stared at her over his burger.
“You do things your way, and I do them my way. Just because you happen to think this is English tea time…”
He snorted, taking another bite. “I never got fast food as a kid. Or dinners out. My mom always cooked. Not very well, either. My dad was actually a reasonable cook, but he maintained that it was a woman’s job. My mom accepted that.”
“Only the unpaid cooking seems to be a woman’s job to some guys. They don’t want to do it themselves, so they push it on their wife and say it’s women’s work,” Charity said, rolling her eyes. “Given that the top chefs of the world are largely men, they are mistaken. But then, if you can get a good wage for something, men generally assume control.” She paused. “No offense to your dad.”
“None taken. He was a good example of what not to grow up to be.”
“I had one of those, too. And I didn’t get fast food, either. We didn’t have the money to spend on a meal that runs right through you.”
Devon grimaced, the expression melting into a smile. “Gross.”
Charity laughed. “I cooked, mostly. Walt didn’t eat much, and my mom worked a lot. If you wanna eat, you gotta cook.”
“I should’ve learned, but now I just…hate it. I suck at it.”
Charity took a bite. “Marry a pretty girl that loves to wait on her man and you’re all set.”
Devon snorted but didn’t comment.
Lost to their own thoughts, they finished the rest of their meal in silence. After they finished, Devon led Charity down a long hall.
“Yours is here.” He motioned to the last door on the left. He dropped her duffel outside the door, already defining the space as hers, with the privacy to go along with it. It was reassuring. “I’m right across the hall in case…whatever. Boogeymen, I don’t know. I’ll show you the laundry room and whatnot tomorrow.”
“Great.” She picked up her duffel and walked into the room.
He watched her check it out. “Sheets are fresh. Well, they haven’t been slept in, anyway. Bathroom is clean.”