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Alas, crude bursts of power could move someone or something on the whim of a thought, and she could tickle and tease with her witch energy as she had last night with Tallak, but for something as precise as wiping up liquid and gathering shards of ceramic, a more complex spell was needed—and time to weave it.
Nothing like that could be done in the few seconds it took Basil to enter the kitchen and raise his brows at the sight that greeted him.
“What happened?”
With a sigh, she started picking up the broken pieces of the mug. “Just being clumsy. Don’t worry.”
“You’re the least clumsy person I know.” He sent her the kind of half smile that never failed to make her maternal heart preen and bent to help her clean up. “Here, let me.”
“Thank you, honey.”
Straightening, she did her best to ignore Tallak as he prowled into the room, a potent force of masculine energy that stroked her senses, despite the fact that his demon powers were leashed during the day. From her not-quite-looking-at-him vantage point, she noted he very deliberately kept his attention on other things, too, like the T-shirt in his hands that seemed inexplicably hard to shake out.
“I was going to check in on you in a bit,” Basil said while he wiped up the coffee, his brows drawing together as he shot a glance up at her. “I wasn’t sure if you were still asleep. Are you sick?”
At that, Tallak whipped his head in her direction. She only allowed herself a brief look at him, a second of noting his unreadable expression—and the text on his T-shirt: What fresh fuckery is this?—before she turned her attention back to the shards of the mug she carefully disposed of in the trash.
“Uh, no.” She cleared her throat. “No, I was just…up most of the night. Working. On something.”
Even though she had her back turned, she felt Tallak’s gaze boring into her.
“Oh. Okay.” Basil threw the wet paper towels in the trash, blissfully oblivious to the undercurrents in the room. “I was worried about you.” He bumped his shoulder into hers affectionately. “You work too much, you know that? Maybe you should take some time for yourself, do something fun.”
Tallak made a sound that was awfully close to a choked-back chuckle, and she barely kept herself from glaring at him. She wouldn’t think about what that kind of low laugh had felt like against her most intimate skin. Would not.
She patted Basil’s arm. “I’ll think about it, sweetie.” And before he could follow up, she added, “Have you and Rose had lunch yet? I can make you something.”
“I’m good. Don’t know about Rose—she’s not here. Haven’t seen her today.” He half turned to Tallak. “Do you want to stay for lun—”
The door to the kitchen swung open, and Rose staggered in. Dressed in her clothes from the day before—ankle boots, tight skirt, leather corset, and jacket, all in black—strands coming loose from her high ponytail, she pushed the sunglasses she wore up her nose and grabbed the kitchen island counter for purchase for a moment.
Hazel started toward her, but stopped at the look on Rose’s face. Her daughter’s grimace of bared teeth morphed into the semblance of a faked smile, and she walked gingerly over to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and made to stalk out of the kitchen again.
“Rose,” Hazel ventured, her throat tight.
She stopped in the doorway, shoulders tense. Half turning her face, her eyes still concealed by those dark-as-night sunglasses, her reply was so saccharine that Hazel could have sweetened her coffee with it. “Yes?”
“Come join us for lunch.” Her heartbeat threatened to break her rib cage, her palms suddenly sweaty. Please don’t slip away. Just give me something. “I’d love to chat with you.”
She didn’t even stop to consider. “No, thank you. I will get food later.”
“Are you—are you okay?”
“Of course.” She stumbled and almost slipped on her way out the door, steadying herself on the wall with her free hand. “That was…” She gestured with the hand holding the bottle, her back still to the kitchen. “On purpose.” And with her head held high, she tottered down the hall toward the staircase.
Hazel only noticed she’d tensed all over when Basil laid a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed.
“Hey.” His brown eyes, glinting with flecks of amber so similar to those that lit Tallak’s gaze, studied her face, saw far too much. “Don’t take it personally. She brushes me off, too. I think she just needs some space to…find herself.”
And what if she loses herself on the way? She bit back that question, though, uncomfortably aware of Tallak’s looming presence in the room. Bad enough he’d witnessed Rose’s continued rejection—he most definitely didn’t need to know how much it hurt Hazel.
Irrational as it was, she struggled with illogical envy when she thought of Tallak in this instance…because the long-lost child he’d found actually wanted to spend time with him, showed him love and trust. Hazel, on the other hand, had gotten back a daughter who looked at her with the wariness of a beaten, feral cat and wanted nothing to do with her.
“Dad,” Basil said, turning to Tallak, “will you have lunch with us?”
“No, he won’t,” Hazel ground out, barely keeping herself from hissing. Fine claws of hurt scratched at her skin from the inside, a rising tide of razor-sharp pain so entwined, so twisted with the tangles of emotions caused by Rose’s rejection, by her own daily dashed hopes for mere crumbs of affection from the daughter she’d missed for twenty-six long years… A knot of excruciating feelings that was made worse by the presence of the irritating demon she’d meant to get out of her system, only to realize her escapade last night hadn’t slaked her hunger.
It had merely whetted her appetite.
