Dark Need by Clarissa Wild
Chapter 15
Soren
April hasn’t talkedto me since I told her about this cabin and what happened to the previous owner.
I killed him because he was snooping on the House grounds, peeping through the windows, trying to snap pictures of the naked girls in their rooms being punished for their sins.
To me, it was obvious he couldn’t survive.
After all, no one talks about what happens at the House.
No one lives to tell the tale.
But when I look at her bustling around in the kitchen area, I can’t help but wonder if she thinks the same could happen to her when she’d talk.
If she asks … I can’t deny it.
Rules are there to be obeyed.
Yet she continues to fight them.
I sigh out loud as I watch her toil, and she briefly glances up at me when I cock my head to see what she’s doing. She swiftly hides a pan beneath the sink and raises her brow at me until I look away again.
If she’s still frightened by the idea of me killing people, I won’t bother her with the details. It’s only natural to me. Exterminating vermin is what I’m good at. Hurting people who deserve it is what I’m good at.
Monitoring a girl’s needs while also taking her somewhere she doesn’t want to go?
Disastrous.
Suddenly, a spicy smell enters my nostrils, and I turn my head in the direction of the scent. It’s coming from the kitchen … and there’s smoke rising from the stove.
Is she … cooking?
How? With what?
I narrow my eyes, watching her stir that same pot she tried to hide from me, making sure she doesn’t see me look. I don’t know what it is that she’s cooking up there, and I don’t think she wants me to know either … but it smells delicious.
And it makes my stomach growl.
No one in the House ever made any dish smell that amazing.
What did she do to it?
She moves away from the stove and grabs two plates and cutlery from the cabinet, placing them on the only table in this cabin. Then she places the pot on the table with a spoon and looks up to greet me with an awkward smile.
“Dinner’s ready.”
I frown for a few seconds, but she doesn’t relent.
It almost sounds like she wants to play house here, and that doesn’t sit right with me.
Still, I get up and park myself on one of the chairs. That same delicious smell enters my nostrils again, and I have to fight to keep the saliva at bay. Because I am not just thinking about diving into the food …
When I peer over the edge of the pan, it appears to be some kind of rice. I pick up my fork and spoon it directly from the pan. Her fork immediately busts in on me and slaps me on the hand.
“No stealing,” she says, raising a brow at me.
I throw her a look. And not just any look. The look. The one that predicts trouble.
But she doesn’t seem the least bit scared.
“Use the ladle like a sophisticated man,” she says, grabbing the spoon and pouring the food on my plate.
When she’s done, she leans back, so I do the same, still holding my fork like it’s a weapon.
“Go on … Try it,” she says.
I don’t trust this one bit when she’s looking at me like that, like she’s expecting something to happen.
“Is it poisoned?” I ask in the sincerest way possible even though I know my voice always sounds like that of a bear trying to attack you.
She makes a face, and judging by the look of it, she isn’t too pleased. “Wow. Really?”
Is that supposed to be an actual question or a rhetorical one? I can’t tell with her.
“No, of course not,” she adds. “I’m not like the people at the House.”
“We don’t poison people,” I reply, poking around to see if I can find something. “Poison is a woman’s tool.”
“Oh, is it now?” She scoffs, throwing me another deadly look.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this pissed off before.
Especially when she starts stabbing the food with her fork.
“It’s just food. Now eat,” she hisses through her teeth. “And enjoy.”
Wow. The last time someone spoke to me like that, I chopped their head off.
But I’m not thinking about that at all right now.
Because all I can focus on is her tits poking through the fabric of her shirt… and how badly I want to rip it all off and punish her for her brattiness.
I lick my lips and glare at her.
So much for control.
I sigh out loud and fork up a bunch of the food, shoving it into my mouth. I’m immediately overwhelmed by the taste as it sits on my tongue. This has to be one of the single most delicious things I’ve ever tasted. I can barely swallow it without feeling like I’m missing something.
“Do you like it?” she asks.
I look up and say with a low voice, “It’s good.”
A faint smile appears on her face, but it still excites me too much to keep looking at her, so I focus on the food instead.
“What is it?”
“Risotto,” she answers. “With the mushrooms and herbs you gathered. I used the alcohol and rice that was still in the cabinets … from the previous owner.”
I look up at her while she’s eating like it’s no one’s business.
“What … you mind?” she says.
“No,” I reply.
“Oh … but you thought I would,” she says.
I grumble to myself and take another bite. I’m not in the mood for this quibbling back and forth. She’s trying to lure me into an argument, and I don’t have the energy left for that.
If she wants to talk, I’ll shift the conversation elsewhere.
“Where did you learn to cook?” I ask.
She pauses with eating and looks up at me. “At the place I don’t ever wanna go to again … that freaking cult.”
I put down my fork.
Not because I don’t want to eat more. I do. I want to gobble it down and lick my plate and then some.
But the answer she just gave me put a knot in my stomach.
Because I know exactly what cult she’s talking about.
The Family.
The Holy Land.
Eli once told me about that place. It’s where she came from before they sent her to us because she committed a sin.
And it’s the place … I’m going to take her back to.
