I clear my throat, nervous about the destruction of my breakfast. “I’m really sorry about storming in yesterday,” I tell him. I don’t get any response other than another scoop, scowl, and slap on my plate. “And about the mess,” I quickly add. “I hope it wasn’t too bad. I can help if—”
He cuts me off. “Nonsense. I am here to serve, Miss Gates.”
With a jerk, he places the plate down in front of me, and all I can do is stare down at the mess. The watermelon has been mashed over the eggs, staining it in juices that resemble watery blood. I have exactly one piece of bacon that looks like he cooked it in the pits of Hell and only brought it back up once it was charred and smoking. The buttery biscuits are in crumbles, the gravy is drizzled over a strawberry tart, and I’m afraid to ask what the slimy green stuff is.
“Would you like anything else for breakfast, Miss Gates?” Lurch asks, almost daring me to complain in front of the guys.
I look up at him with a strained smile. “Nope,” I chirp. “This is great.”
With a terse nod, he pivots in his shiny shoes and stomps out of the room with his head held high, while I’m left with a plate that looks nearly inedible.
I pick up my fork and start eating. I said nearly inedible. I’m not about to waste food.
I accidentally eat some of the slimy green thing with a biscuit crumb, and it’s so unexpectedly spicy that my tongue nearly goes up in flames. I chug water down from the glass in front of me, only to realize it’s some kind of really awful clear alcohol.
That just sends me into a coughing fit, and tears start licking down my cheeks as I wave off the guys when Iceman gets up like he’s going to try to give me the Heimlich or something.
“I’m...fine,” I sputter, shoving the cup away from me. “What in the Hellgate is that stuff?”
“Demon spirits,” he answers with a frown. “Do you not like it?”
“No!” I say, shoving watermelon on my tongue to try and soothe my burning mouth. “And what do you mean demon spirits? Are you saying I just imbibed your essence or some shit?”
Hearing a snort, I look up to see Crux and Jerif enter the room. Crux’s blond hair is windblown, his tan face smirking as he walks in wearing nothing but a pair of board shorts that are dripping with water. In contrast, Jerif is wearing a full-fledged black suit with a deep red shirt that looks damn good against his onyx colored skin and strange flickering orange eyes and hair.
“Not spirits like that,” Crux tells me, sitting down in the chair right next to mine. Grumpy Lurch reappears and immediately starts serving them the normal way, with nice little food piles and zero splattering. “Spirits like alcohol. Except ours has caffeine as well to add a little kick.”
“Well, it tastes like melted plastic mixed with burnt bread left too long in the toaster,” I tell him.
Crux cocks a brow. “Strange. It tastes like honey and chili peppers to me.”
I shake my head. “I don’t understand how that’s better.”
Jerif sits next to Echo, but he frowns over at my plate. “What happened there?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly, darting a look to Lurch. “This is how I like my breakfast. Extra...mixed.”
A breeze tickles my ass, telling me I’m rocking a serious plumber’s smile. I hike up the back of my sweatpants and ignore the knowing cough that Grumpy Lurch gives. I let go of my pants and scoop up another bite of tainted eggs. Let him stare at my ass crack. It’s the least I can do to thank him for this delicious breakfast.
I glare at the green sludge and ignore my watering eyes as my palate attempts to recover from the spicy assault. My poor mouth is pretty much numb now, which means I can’t even taste the awful mixture of food on my plate. Lurch...zero; me...well, zero too because I like tasting good food. But at least he’s not winning.
“How did you sleep?” Iceman asks me politely as he bites into a perfectly cooked crispy slice of bacon. The grease glosses his plump bottom lip in a very enticing way, and I find myself staring at his mouth heatedly for a beat too long. I only snap out of it when someone else clears their throat.
I look down at my sludge breakfast and move the piles around on my plate. “I slept like a girl who just survived a demon attack,” I respond dryly. I scoop up another bite of mush, but spot a hint of green and immediately dump it out on the do not touch portion of my plate.
“For fuck’s sake,” Crux grumbles, and then he reaches across the table and tries to trade my plate with his.
My hands snap out and grip the offending breakfast plate for dear life. “Excuse you!”
“You know you don’t want to eat that,” Crux argues as he tries to muscle the plate out of my grip.
“This is mine. It was prepared for me, and you don’t get to have it,” I growl between clenched teeth. It’s nice of him to try and give me something edible for breakfast, but I just know Grumpy Lurch is around the corner. I’ll take my punishment this morning and only revolt if he pulls this shit at lunch.
As Crux strongarms the plate, I’m lifted to my feet, because I am not letting this fucker go.
“Let. Go.” I strain, my body bending over the table as I grip the plate with two hands.
“You let go,” he says, not even straining as he pulls.
I try to plant my feet and dig my heels in, using my entire body strength to keep the plate to myself. Crux is barely even trying, with just a lazy, one-handed grip on the thing, which
