The omelets were the fluffiest, yellow things she’d ever seen. Normally if she made one, and those attempts were rare, the egg would be just shy of black and the cheese tasting of rubber. Picking up a fork, she sliced through the creation and popped the steaming forkful into her mouth. Moaning in ecstasy at the incredible moist and lush flavors of roasted peppers and onions and gooey cheese, she beamed at a proud looking Gerard.
“Oh my, wow,” she breathed, tongue throbbing from the hot bite and not caring. “This is amazing. What did you do?”
With a nod toward the table, he guided her to her seat of the night before.
He took a bite and nodded. “Butter, vegetables, salt. The only things truly essential for a fine meal.”
Betty ate, each bite tasting better than the last. She smiled and he returned it.
“I hope the coffee is not too bitter. We tend to prefer tea in Kingdom, though Jinni’s got an affinity for the coffee. I learned from him.” He pointed to her now empty cup.
Strange that this should feel so perfect, so cozy. They hardly knew each other, and it was amazing how she’d gone from terrified and suspicious of the man, to comfortable and fully at ease. Betty rested her chin on the hand holding the now dangling fork. “You know this is feeling domestic. I’d ask you what you’re up to, Gerard.” She lifted a brow.
He chewed the last of his omelet and then sighed. “As you said last night, we’re stuck with each other for a month. Let’s at least try to get along, no?”
Betty nibbled on the last forkful. Even cold, the food was great. It’d been fantastic last night too. The man knew his way around the kitchen. Made her curious what else he knew his way around. Her stomach fluttered with that thought.
“You said you learned from a woman. Who was she?”
He licked his teeth. “Sure you want to know?”
“Why not.” Probably some skank he’d slept with.
“Bar maid I slept with.”
Yup, she’d known it. Betty chuckled.
He tipped his jaw. “Why do you laugh?”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know you at all, and yet there’s times where I feel like I’ve known you forever. Although I gotta say...” she gave a melodramatic sigh, pushing the plate away, “your cooking is amazing. If I had to get stuck with someone for a month, I could have done worse. I want more.”
The moment the words left her lips, a strange silver glow shimmered in the air between them like smoke. The necklace she’d still been unable to yank off flared hot. Gerard’s face tightened, he cracked his jaw, and shot to his feet.
Mechanical footsteps took him back to the stove where he grabbed an egg.
“Gerard?” Betty frowned. Why was he acting so strange? His movements seemed forced, not at all graceful like before.
“What?” he snapped, and beat the egg to within an inch of its life, the fork pinged off the glass bowl with such force she feared he’d shatter the glass.
“What are you doing?”
“Doing your bidding,” he snarled, and slopped the egg into the pan.
It took a second for the truth to dawn on her (had she been more awake, she might have recognized what was happening sooner), she’d compelled him. Or rather, the power of the necklace had.
“Stop!” Betty held up her hands. “I was kidding.”
Suddenly he stopped. The tense muscles of his back visibly relaxed, and he turned around then, his breathing was labored. Gerard planted his hands on either side of the stove. His eyes sparked fury, betrayal.
Betty shook her head. “I had no idea I could do that.”
“Didn’t you?” his eyes narrowed to twin slits. “They told you, I’m yours to command. To enslave,” he spat, and a lump wedged in Betty’s throat.
“No,” she denied again with a firm shake of her head. “No. I’d never want that kind of power over you.” Betty glanced down at the necklace. She yanked on it, more desperate now than ever to take it off.
What had the fairies done? What a wicked, vile magic, and to make her be the one in charge of something so absolute. To have this much power over anyone, to tell him to jump off a cliff and know he’d have to do it. It was wrong. Betty could never hurt a fly and though it’d just been eggs this time, in a moment of anger she could forget herself and make him do something awful. The enormity of the responsibility slammed into her, and she tugged harder, the silver chain tore into her neck.
Then his fingers were covering hers. “You’ll hurt yourself,” he whispered.
He smelled so good, like soap and coffee, and he was looking at her not with anger, but firm resolve, and she wanted to cry. “I will never, ever, ever do that to you again. I swear. I’m sorry, Gerard.”
Gerard smoothed his hand against her hair and nodded. “I believe you, Cherie. Forgive me?”
She nodded, though there was nothing to forgive. He grabbed her empty mug and refilled it, then settled her back in her chair.
“Drink,” he ordered.
Her grin was wobbly. “Touche.”
Gerard winked. “Turnabout, you know how it is.”