Sasha bared his teeth. "Not my food, man. You contaminate it and so help me I will bite the shit out of you."
"Sasha, please."
Zarek approached the stainless steel bowls.
"I told you, Astrid, the bastard is going to poison me. He's going to spit in my water or do something worse to it."
Zarek did the most unexpected thing of all. He bent down, picked up the almost empty water bowl, washed it out in the sink and refilled it with water, then carefully returned it to the tray.
Astrid wasn't sure which of them was the most shocked by his actions. Her or Sasha.
Sasha moved to his bowl and sniffed it suspiciously.
Zarek returned to the sink to wash his hands. Once the chocolate milk was warmed up, he poured it into a mug and brought it to her.
"Here," he said, his voice ringing with its usual rude, hostile note. He took her hand and led it to the cup.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Arsenic and vomit."
She screwed her face up in disgust at the thought. "Really? And yet you managed to hack that up so quietly. Who knew? Thanks. I've never had vomit before. I'm sure it's extra special."
Well, so much for thinking Zarek had a kinder, gentler side.
"Drink it or don't," he growled. "I don't care."
She heard him leave the room again.
Astrid held the cup. Even though she had watched him make it through Sasha's eyes and knew he hadn't done anything to contaminate it, she was still reluctant to taste it after his off-putting comment.
"He's watching you," Sasha told her.
She cocked her head very slowly. "How so?"
"Like he's daring you to taste it."
Astrid held her breath, debating what to do. Was it a test of his own? Was he asking her to trust him?
Taking a deep breath, she drank the chocolate, which was a perfect temperature and very tasty.
Zarek was amazed at her bravery. So, she had called his bluff and trusted him. He would never have drunk anything a stranger handed him and it surprised him that she had.
He felt a grudging respect for her. The woman had a lot of guts, he'd give her that.
But at the end of the day, guts didn't account for much, and all they would do is get her killed if Thanatos found them before he had a chance to leave.
His gaze turned dull as he remembered the demon or Daimon or whatever he was who had been sent to kill him.
All this time, the Dark-Hunters had assumed Acheron was the bloodhound Artemis used to track and kill rogue Dark-Hunters.
All the men who knew the truth were now roaming the earth as Shades. Soulless, bodiless entities who could feel hunger and thirst and yet were never allowed to sate it.
They could feel and sense the world, but no one could feel or sense them.
He understood that existence. For the twenty-six years he had lived as a mortal human, he'd been one himself.
Only then, a world that didn't know he existed would have been preferable. Because when people had realized he was around, they had gone out of their way to increase his pain.