HOPE
"You already brought me a welcome cake," Jeremy says, eyeing the flask on the table and then me.
"These aren't cakes," I reply, nudging the basket toward him. "These are an experiment. I made the same salad recipe from your home. I need a second opinion."
He lets out a low groan. "You really didn't need to."
"It won't take you thirty minutes to eat one spoonful of it."
Yes, I've managed to sneak into Jeremy's house again—this time I want to ask him if he knows anything about Alaric and what he wants. I also want to know if he has any freaking idea how I can control my gifts to avoid unknowingly siphoning someone.
He sighs and leans over the kitchen counter, inspecting the food like it might bite him. "What meat did you use?"
I keep my expression neutral. "It's a surprise."
Jeremy picks up a spoon, scoops some of it, lifts it to his mouth, and bites in.
I freeze. He chews slowly. No grimace. No gag. No dramatic spitting.
