Sing for the Dead (London Undead) by Schnyder PJ

Author:Schnyder, PJ [Schnyder, PJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Carina Press
Published: 2013-11-03T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Six

The sounds of glass on glass chimed and Sorcha’s eyes flew open. Sitting up, she took in her surroundings with one hand holding the duvet to her chest and another finding the hilt of her dagger underneath her pillow. Despite their brief coupling—or perhaps of mutual accord—both she and Kayden had made sure they had weapons close to hand before they’d fallen to sleep.

“Easy there. Just getting a few things together to break our fast.” Kayden stood in the kitchen area of the studio, putting several small plates on a tray. “No need to draw steel on a man who’s bringing you your tea.”

Odd, but she missed the weight of him at her back. She’d not indulged in such a deep sleep in a very long time. Unconsciousness, yes, but it wasn’t the same kind of rest.

Kayden continued his task, accompanied by the clinking of plates and silverware. “It’s probably not the finery the Fair Folk enjoy Under Hill, but I do appreciate a few of the niceties modern civilization has created.”

“Under Hill has many fine things for the powerful and the pure-blooded. Wonders of magic, fine treasures only those with all the time in the world to master their skill can create.” She snorted. “All the glamour and gilded riches are cold hospitality when one is only a half-breed.”

A moment of silence and Kayden’s gaze weighed heavily on her.

She shook off the old memories and gave him a smile, a true smile from the night he’d given her. “I’ve found the warmth of home and hearth with honest people a much better experience.”

His gaze never wavered, and he never blinked, but he took hold of the tray and headed toward her.

“These were sitting in a bakery window display when I went out to get more supplies. Store owner let me borrow them since I work with Seth’s pack.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, Kayden settled a tray between them. He lifted the simple white china teapot and poured steaming tea into matching cups. A faintly floral scent wafted up to her nose—light and yet it had a musky spiciness to it as well.

A far cry from the camp mugs he’d used to feed her the night before.

“You don’t prefer a traditional English tea?” Not that she minded. There were many good teas in the world. She sniffed again in appreciation and her stomach rumbled.

“Well, normally I enjoy an easily obtainable cup of Earl Grey or Lady Grey.” Kayden handed her a cup then brought his own to his lips. “But since it’s gone well past morning, this one matched my mood better. I can brew you up a cup of one of those instead.”

“No need.” She sipped, careful not to burn her tongue. “I like Darjeeling.”

He might have smiled behind his teacup, but he made no immediate comment. Instead he took his time about drinking his tea and then set it down. “The bread’s day old, but it ought to taste all right toasted. Wasn’t sure what sort of breakfast you’d be wanting.

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