Page 29 of Knife Volume 2

“Overwhelming how?”

“Oh, I mean, nothing bad. We even invite LEO, though they don’t often come anymore. Used to, but…” she shrugged. “Just a lot of people, a lot of activity.”

Later that night, when they finally made it to Knife’s room, she told him, “I want to make a dish for tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to. No one will expect you to.”

“I know I don’t have to, but others are bringing dishes, and I’m not showing up empty-handed.”

“You could pick something up—”

She gave him a look that ended his statement before he finished it.

“I can run to my apartment—” she stopped and started again. “My old apartment, while you have to work tomorrow. I was going to get some editing done, but there’s no big rush on that. And we haven’t moved my pantry yet, so I’ll only have to pick a few things up on the way. I already have most of it, and it’ll just be that much less we have to move.” She sighed. “Can you drive me?”

“Yeah. What are you planning?”

She told him, he nodded, and then produced a glycerin suppository and told her to use it and come back to him naked.

Chapter 12

Saturday morning, he woke her by going right back in her ass after practically destroying it with his fist the night before.

Werewolves have some odd quirks about what heals and what does not. She’d been a virgin for her first change, but her pussy didn’t heal back to normal after her first time.

Assholes, however, do heal back to normal, so every time you change, it’s like you’re an anal virgin all over again.

And she’d changed twice since he’d fisted her ass earlier in the week.

She didn’t want to scream where everyone could hear her, and he damned well knew it. The sadist.

He drove her to her apartment before he had to be at work at eleven, and since her car was still in the garage at her apartment, she made a run to the grocery store for graham crackers, fresh basil, sun-dried tomatoes, and fresh mozzarella cheese.

She hated having to buy the tomatoes and graham crackers, but sometimes one has to make concessions for last-minute meals you can’t plan out in advance. She much preferred drying her own tomatoes, and making her own graham crackers, but there simply wasn’t time for that today.

And it was good to be back in the Maserati. Plus, this would solve the problem of how to get it to his house without an extra trip. She could drive it to the compound, and then drive it to his house Sunday night.

Once back at her apartment, she worked the dough for the pasta and then built the pesto while it rested. Fresh basil, good olive oil, garlic, pine nuts, and real parmesan.

Her food processor didn’t take long to turn the graham crackers to powder, and she lined the bottom of her casserole dishes with them before adding melted butter, mixing well, and pressing it down.

Next came mixing the chess pie custard ingredients — eggs, butter, sugar, cornmeal, a splash of apple cider vinegar, vanilla. She poured the custard into her casserole dishes and slid them into the oven.

While they baked, she rolled the pasta and cut it, cooked it in salted water, cooled it, and tossed it with the pesto. Fresh mozzarella torn by hand. Pine nuts toasted dry in a pan. The sun-dried tomatoes, roughly chopped.

She filled three large dishes with the pasta. Tasted it. Added a little more pesto and cracked black pepper. Tasted again.

Good. Better than good, actually.

She pulled the chess pies and let them cool on the counter while she cleaned her kitchen, and finally loaded everything.

Her car’s mid-engine configuration makes it handle like a dream, but it means the car has a small trunk in the back and a tiny one in the front. But she’d figured out how to layer the casserole dishes with cardboard in between, so they all fit into the trunk without needing to move to the frunk, which some idiot had decided one should call the front trunk.

Knife had been scheduled to work until six, so she aimed to arrive shortly after. She texted to let him know when she was leaving, and he and a few of his brothers came to get the food and take it to the tables.

The men all circled her car when they came out, though. It was Brain who told Knife, “Show her how to pull it in the garage. Twenty-seven should be open.”

She scented surprise on Knife, but he nodded to Brain and, once the men were walking away with the food, Knife walked to the passenger side and told her, “I’ll show you where to go. Get in.”