Paramour of Sin: A Dark Standalone Paranormal Romance (Dark Provenance Series Book 3) by Lexi C. Foss

Author:Lexi C. Foss [Foss, Lexi C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ninja Newt Publishing, LLC
Published: 2021-03-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Gwen

Zane either felt I needed to gain some weight, or he thought food would fix my mood.

I toed the empty bowl on the coffee table, moving it further away from my feet as I crossed my ankles atop the living room table.

Broccoli cheddar soup.

Made from scratch.

Zane had chopped the veggies and melted the cheese and everything, and it redefined the meaning of divine. That had been my lunch, after a breakfast of French toast and eggs.

Mid-afternoon, he’d popped out of the kitchen with a charcuterie board and a charming smile. I’d rolled together salami and pepper jack cheese, dipped the concoction in homemade Dijon mustard, and wondered how the hell he’d gone grocery shopping without me knowing about it. I suspected a Portal Dweller had something to do with it because I’d overheard Remy’s voice at one point in the kitchen. However, he’d been gone when I poked my head in.

I ate the whole charcuterie spread. Even the olives.

As delicious as it was, when I finished, I was still mad at Zane.

Now, it was past dinnertime, and an array of divine scents were coming from the kitchen. Garlic, onion, tomatoes—clearly Italian. I couldn’t lie to myself and pretend I wasn’t looking forward to whatever Zane had concocted, especially if it lived up to all his previous meals earlier today.

But I also had no intention of forgiving him just for feeding me.

One day did not make up for years of his bullshit.

Okay, sure, he wasn’t always an ass. Just most of the time. And the way he’d shattered my heart… no amount of food would make up for that.

Hmm, although, orgasms might, I mused, recalling his expert tongue and knowing hands. No. Nope. Not happening. Stop that train of thought right now.

I removed my feet from the table and crossed my legs, wishing yet again that Gleason would come home to distract me from doing something stupid.

Like jumping Zane.

Or killing Zane.

Or kissing Zane.

Or stabbing Zane.

Ugh.

Do I want to fuck him? Yes. Will I do it? No.

Because he doesn’t deserve it. And neither does Lord Zebulon.

How could they just decide to control my sex life? Neither of them had any right to do that, because neither of them had any right to me. I knew our Demonic Lord was just as at fault with this as Zane was, but Lord Zebulon had never been outright cruel to me. He’d given me doses of what I needed to survive, while maintaining a professional demeanor.

Which, I supposed, Zane had done as well.

Yet I’d fallen for him. And he’d called me childish for it. Yet he was the one acting like a child. He could have manned up and grown a pair, then come clean about Lord Zebulon’s decree. But he didn’t. Instead, he decided to break my heart.

“Zane…”

“What is it, Guinevere?” His exhausted tone almost had me saying, Never mind. But I had to do this. I had to tell him. It’d been this festering emotion inside me for so long that I felt as though I’d explode if I didn’t say something.

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