Page 70 of The Order of the Bitter Hunt

Margaux

I know. It’s surprising.

See you tomorrow, darling.

“Are you texting Tobey?” He lounges next to me on the couch, his arm resting on the back.

His arm isbehind me. Is he still trying to comfort me?

“Mhm. They’re worried about me, naturally. I have to make sure they don’t throw a little fit.”

He snorts. “Please. The last thing I need is their tiny ass hunting me down.”

“Oh, but I would love to see it.”

“I bet you would.”

I lift my head, looking toward Jun. He’s no less than a foot away.

I can pretend I wasn’t thinking about kissing him, but… I was just before the alarms went off. And I think he was too. I bite my lower lip, contemplating bringing the topic up.

He speaks before I can.

“Let’s drink.” He stands up and heads to his mini fridge. “I think we deserve it, yeah?”

“I’m not sure what I did to deserve it, but I’ll certainly accept it.”

He pulls out a miniature bottle of wine. “Will this do? Vampires seem to love this shit.”

“I don’t know aboutallvampires, but I won’t complain about it.”

“You, not complaining? That’s a first.”

“Funny. Perhaps you should stick to comedy—you seem to have a talent for it.”

He settles in again, passing me the little bottle.

“What?” I lift a brow. “No glass?”

“Nope.” He cracks open a can of beer. “Drink up, princess.”

He’s given me a reason to be annoyed at him again, and I am… surprisingly grateful. His being kind is, in a word, dangerous—and perhaps it should seem artificial, but it doesn’t. Jun is more genuine than I realized.

I’m learning too much about him.

I listen to his order, tilting my head back and downing as much of the wine as I can in one gulp. It’s cheap, and I’m not drinking for taste.

His gaze is still on me. “You don’t need to knock it back so fast… but that’s impressive.”

“I’m good at drinking. That’s what most of my diet consists of, you know. Liquid.”

“Could have fooled me, considering how underfed you are.”

I frown. He doesn’t mean to, but he brings up a memory of the dinner with my parents. Namely, I think of my mother’s words.

“Do you think I look worse for wear?”

He lets out a surprised laugh. “What the fuck?”