Page 55 of Bite Me

Our fingers touch as I grab the knife from her hand, and she jolts. Touching her is like acid seeping into my skin—it changes molecules. She must feel it too. I demonstrate how to hold the knife, place the blade between the lobster’s eyes, and press down.

“They’re stunned from their time in the freezer. It’s quick for them.”

She sighs and nods. No witty comeback? Not even a mumble?

“I can do it. Let me do it.”

When she grabs another, I help her get her hands in place.

“Perfect. Just like that.”

Her heart stutters along with the crunch of the knife in the otherwise silent kitchen, noiseless apart from the sounds of clinking pans and sizzling oils. There’s no talking during class, and I hate the sound of music when I work. She struggles to separate the tail from the head and recoils when its leg twitches and moves.

Now is the perfect time.

“Am I going to have to help you every time I ask you to kill a crustacean? Because I shouldn’t have to. In fact, if I were to tell Verity, she’d make you kill everyone else’s.”

She shakes her head, staring at the dead carcass, her eyes glossy and little bits of glitter smeared on her face.

A little more. Push.

“No, Chef.”

She reaches to support herself on the counter. It didn’t occur to me that having her kill a lobster might make her physically ill.

“Do you need to sit down?”

“I think I’m okay.” Her voice is muffled.

“Here.” I dart for a chair. “Sit.”

“No . . . I can do it. I have to cook it, or its death means nothing.” She presses out her bottom lip.

“We’ll cook it in a second. First, sit.”

I leave to grab her a soda from the fridge, and her head snaps up when I pop the aluminum tab.

“Strawberry?”

“You like strawberry soda, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but how did you know that?”

She has one almost every day with dinner. “Lucky guess.”

Emma takes a sip and closes her eyes.

“Good, Em.” I lean my head on my hand as I watch her.

Those golden eyes narrow at me as she takes another sip.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe I need blood or sleep. It’s never been this hard to put someone down. But when it’s her, it’s as if my brain rebels and won’t let me do it.

I never thought this was what having a scent-match would mean. Scent-matches are pretty rare in Vviveren. Not rare like linked mates, but it’s still a one-in-a-million situation.

I’m more fucked than I realized. This woman will be my undoing, and I’m not sure there’s much I can do about it. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, or maybe it’s the fresh boost of serotonin I now have from helping her, but my limbs feel heavier, enough that I imagine sinking to the floor in front of her and resting my head in her lap.

I’m so tired of this.