A Game of Daylight and Dusk: A New Adult Romantasy by Eliza Lainn

Author:Eliza Lainn [Lainn, Eliza]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Specter & Shade
Published: 2023-10-16T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Even Aunt Darla’s foul mood couldn’t dampen Bel’s spirits as she swirled about the kitchen. Her aunt sat at the bar, lobbing snide remarks about anything and everything—from Bel’s run-down clothes to her not securing a publishing job after graduation. More often than not, Aunt Darla didn’t partake in the verbal abuse. Usually, she just let Daisy run rampant with her own. Her aunt only joined in on the tirades when she was hungry.

Like now.

Her hangry abuses were one of the main reasons Bel took over cooking, apart from the fact she didn’t think Aunt Darla or Daisy had picked up a pot in their lives. She could almost tease herself that, secretly, Aunt Darla valued her. Or, at the very least, appreciated having her around. Except when she was that unfortunate mixture of hungry and angry, and her verbal lashings rivaled Gordon Ramsey’s on a tear.

But still, none of Aunt Darla’s barbed words could bring her down today.

The skillet sizzled before her, the smell of chicken wafting through the kitchen. Bel hummed as she worked, her mind back in Vincent’s car as he dropped her off.

He’d offered to walk her to the door, but she hadn’t wanted Aunt Darla to sink her claws into Vincent as she’d tried to with Henri. He’d pouted, finally relented, and gave her a courtly kiss on her hand before leaving.

A kiss. On her hand. Just like some fairy tale prince.

She nearly swooned over the chicken, remembering it.

“Honestly,” Aunt Darla puffed, her massive, hot pink nails drumming against the bar countertop. “You would think, given how much you love that miserable little school, you could at least keep time. I’d been waiting for nearly thirty minutes when you finally waltzed in. Why bother telling me you’d fix dinner if you had no intention of doing so?”

Bel wanted to point out that she’d never agreed to do anything, including fix dinner. Aunt Darla always ordered; when she didn’t dish out orders, she assumed Bel would pick up the slack. And by slack, Bel obviously meant all of it. The words were locked and loaded on the tip of her tongue. Emboldened by her night with Vincent.

Sighing inwardly, she refused to let her night suffer, thanks to her aunt. If I can survive lesser vampires, I can survive you, Aunt Darla. Do your worst.

With the chicken the perfect golden color, Bel added in the enchilada sauce and sour cream mixture. The skillet bubbled with the goopy concoction, filling the room with its delicious scent.

“Do you intend on answering?” Aunt Darla snapped.

“Sorry, Aunt Darla. The evening got away from me.”

“I’ll say.” Daisy strolled into the kitchen. She was dressed in her pajamas: a low-slung pair of pajama pants and a cami top that was two sizes too small. She’d done her hair up in socks, all different colors, giving her a slightly crazed look as she slid into one of the empty bar stools.

Bel flinched at Daisy’s appearance. She’d forgotten that Vincent had ordered her to come home—she’d been thinking Daisy was out for the night.

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