Her toes curled.
Dough rolled out, Venom cut each circle in half before turning on the power to the wok he had on the stove. It only took him a few seconds to pour in enough oil for deep frying. He’d already made something else in a little pot—the man was fast—and now shifted it next to the rolled-out dough. Then his hands were moving to create small triangular pockets so fast she could barely follow the movement; as she watched wide-eyed, in went the filling before he sealed up the final edge of the pocket.
“Are you making samosas?” she whispered, barely daring to interrupt the magic.
A quick nod before he dropped the prepared samosas into the hot oil. The sizzle of frying dough filled the air, making Holly’s stomach rumble all over again. The omelet had barely touched the hole in her belly. “Why am I so hungry all the time?”
Venom gave her a considering look. “Elena’s hungry a lot of the time, too.”
“That at least makes sense. I mean, she turned into an angel and grew wings. There’s probably all kinds of stuff going on inside her.” Holly drew in the delicious smell of Venom’s creation. “Can I please have one?”
“A little longer.” Venom flipped the samosas. “Keir,” he said, naming the senior-most angelic healer, “says Elena is still becoming, still growing into her new skin.”
“You think that’s happening to me.” Holly’s eyes widened as he lifted up another pot she hadn’t noticed at the back of the range, and poured a milky light brown liquid into a small mug for her.
She almost cried when she lifted it to her nose and sniffed—to be hit by the smell of cardamom and tea and the bite of other spices she couldn’t identify. “You made me masala chai?” It was stupid, how her throat got all thick. He couldn’t know how much she loved the stuff. So much that she’d given it up during the dark time when she’d wanted to end herself—she’d thought herself a monster who didn’t deserve anything nice, not even a simple cup of her beloved chai.
Venom said, “I saw the tea packets at your place in New Jersey before I was transferred out of New York.” A disdainful curl of his lip. “Real chai is made from the ground up. This is the quick-and-dirty version, until I have time to grind the right spices for you.”
Even though she knew it was too hot, Holly dared take a sip. The slight burn was worth it. The sweet, spicy taste swept through her like lightning. “If this is your quick-and-dirty version, I’ll probably orgasm at the real thing.”
A sharp look, Venom’s eyes glinting. “Drink your chai and eat this.” He put several samosas on a plate he’d already layered with paper towels, and then, as soon as the excess oil had been soaked away, he transferred the hot pockets to her plate.
Holly forced herself to put aside the delicious, delicious chai he’d made for her because he knew she liked it, and picked up a piping hot samosa using the tips of her thumbs and forefingers. “What’s inside?” she asked in an effort to make herself wait so she didn’t sear her tongue.
“Potato and peas,” Venom said. “Fastest option.”
Holly took a bite and flavors exploded on her tongue. Potatoes and peas? Hah! He’d mixed in all kinds of spices that took those prosaic items to a whole new level. She basically inhaled an entire one before coming up for air. “Where did you find the spices?”
“Our host must’ve told his housekeeper to fully stock the kitchen. There was an entire unopened spice set.” He put the extra samosas to drain. “What do you want for dessert?”
Holly had her mouth full of most of a second samosa—she was well past trying to look in any way elegant—and had to wait to reply. After swallowing the samosa down with chai, she dug up a smidgen of shame. “Are you sure? You already made so much.” All things she loved.
And the aggravating viper expected her to keep her emotional distance?
“Seeing how much you can put away is currently my favorite entertainment show.”
“Ha ha.” Holly decided she’d kick him later. When he wasn’t cooking for her. “Do you know how to make cinnamon pinwheels?”
“No. Describe them to me.”
After she did—around bites of a third samosa—she met his eyes. “Are you—”
“The bottled blood I’ve already had should keep me going for a long period, but there are more bottles inside the fridge. None are flavored.”
Holly laughed. “You liked the flavors, admit it.”
“Do I look like a barbarian?” Seeing that she’d almost finished her chai, he refilled her mug with an easy motion.
Holly had never before felt so incredibly spoiled. It softened things inside her that she hadn’t even realized were still hard. Hopping off the stool, she walked around the counter and wrapped her arms around Venom from behind, pressing her cheek against the muscled warmth of his back.
He went motionless in a way that wasn’t human. “Holly.”
She didn’t let go despite the warning in his tone. “I’m stubborn,” she whispered. “Especially when it comes to people who matter.” And he mattered. “You don’t get to do the lone viper thing anymore.”
“How will you stop me?” A cold purr of sound.
“Do you really think I’d warn you?” A snort. “This is war.” Pressing a kiss to his back on a raw wave of affection that scared her with its strength, she drew back . . . but only after running her palms down either side of his chest.
The gauntlet? It was thrown.
Venom had fought countless battles, had faced down enemies and dangerous allies alike, but even after his earlier thoughts about how lethal she could be to him, he hadn’t been ready for this. For a Holly who hugged him and smiled at him and stood next to him asking him to teach her how to roll the pinwheels.
This woman was . . . soft. Vulnerable.
He knew that was only the here and the now, a time when she felt safe, that Holly was dangerous and tough and a fighter, but even this fragment of vulnerability, it terrified him. “We’re not dating, kitty,” he said harshly. “I’m not a boy who’s going to go steady with you.”
Holly’s eyes flicked up, the hurt in them an iron-handed blow to the gut. And he knew. It had taken enormous courage for her to lower her defenses and retract the prickles she used in self-protection, and he’d just taught her that it had been a mistake. One more nudge—or just silence—and he’d break her precarious confidence that he was worth her vulnerability.
That was the correct move, the smart move, the move that would make sure the damn switch inside him never turned on. Holly’s future was a dark unknown that could end in a single fucking day. If he allowed her in, what would be left after she was gone?
“Fuck.” Gripping her face in hands covered with flour, he pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m broken inside,” he said, his voice ragged. “I function so well that even my closest friends think I’m healthy and whole, but I’m not.”
Her hands came up to close over his wrists. “And I’m the poster child for mental health,” she said in a tone so dry, it was dust. “Stop trying to drive me away by snapping like a cobra.” Tilting back her head, she kissed him and it wasn’t hard, wasn’t demanding. It was a lush, feminine type of kiss. The type of woman Holly was below the anger and the rage and all that had been done to her.
She liked color and pretty beads and painting her boots with daisies.