Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
I n spite of her growing excitement, Batya got enough sleep to feel decent. When she went into the dining area for breakfast, she cast furtive glances around the room for Castille.
He was at the largest table with Khyron and Jimena. As they chatted animatedly, he took a large bite of toast. Absently, Batya wondered how sharp his teeth were. Maybe she’d have a chance to find out.
“You can’t keep your eyes off him either, huh?”
She raised an eyebrow at Merrill.
“The whole blood drinking thing?” the redhead continued.
“Oh.”
“I mean, holy shit. I know he’s called The Butcher, but I didn’t expect that.”
Batya shrugged. She didn’t feel like feigning outrage.
“To each his own, I guess.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Thankfully, they moved on to another topic.
The next time she looked at him, their eyes met and his lips curled in a slow smile. When she smiled back, he stuck his tongue out and dragged his butter knife from its middle to the tip.
Warmth grew between Batya’s thighs.
Christ, why wasn’t it night yet?
Castille returned his attention to the people in front of him. Shaking her head, Batya concentrated on her breakfast and wondered how she’d fill her time.