Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 154368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 772(@200wpm)___ 617(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 772(@200wpm)___ 617(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
"The staff actually prepared everything.”
“But these are your ideas.”
“True. Now get away from the dishes."
"But—"
"This cocktail party is for you as well as the Claws. I don't want you sampling everything before the actual event."
"No, no." He held up his hands and backed away from the prep station. "I want to help you with this."
"Seriously?"
"Yes. That’s why I was tracking your scent today. I wanted to make sure you didn’t forget about the party."
“Hiro, how can anyone forget about the party when you are constantly bringing it up?”
“Someone has to keep everyone on the proper course.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re so extra. And stop saying you were tracking my scent.”
“Why?”
“It’s. . .weird.”
“The tracking your scent or the saying that I’m tracking your scent.”
“Both.”
“Well. . .there’s nothing we can do about that.” He grabbed a stool, dragged it toward the counter, and sat down on it. "Anyway, I'm glad I tracked your scent here. And now after trying those two dishes, you are doing an amazing job. But we need to make sure this continues to go perfectly. So tell me—what else are we doing?"
I studied him for a moment—this man who'd just comforted me through a trauma flashback, stolen my test food, sworn a knight's oath for cheese, and casually offered to commit murder on my behalf.
My new family is weird, but I love them.
He shrugged. “You’re not getting rid of me so you might as well let me help.”
“I see.” I grabbed my sketchpad from the counter and sat down on the stool beside him. "So, I want the cocktail party to have signature drinks."
"Yes. Signature drinks." He grinned and for a second I thought he was going to clap his hands together and squeal.
"The only downside is that it will be a lot of drinks.”
“There can never be too many drinks for the Claws, sis.”
“Well, I want to name a drink after each Claw, so good." I flipped to the pages where I'd started sketching concepts this morning. "And I want these drinks to represent who they are. Their personality. Their ups and downs. What makes them who they are."
Hiro's eyes widened.
"So maybe you can help me with that? You know them better than anyone. You know their stories, their—"
"This is going to be so much fun." He was staring at the sketchpad like it contained the secrets of the universe. "They don't know what's coming for them. How much this is going to mean."
"I hope they like it."
"Like it?" He turned to look at me, and his expression was completely open—no walls, no masks, no predator lurking beneath the surface. Just genuine, overwhelming emotion. "Nyomi, you're naming drinks after them. You're creating dishes that honor where they came from. You're—"
He shook his head slowly. "You're seeing them. Really seeing them. Do you have any idea how rare that is?"
My throat tightened.
"Most people look at the Claws and see weapons. Tools. Dangerous men to be feared or used." His voice caught. "No one asks where they came from. No one wonders what they've survived."
He looked at the sketchpad in my hands. "No one makes them food."
I didn't know what to say.
So I just opened the sketchpad to the first cocktail page and handed him a pencil. "Then help me get it right. Tell me about them."
“Some of it might be sad and I like that you’re in a better mood than when I walked in here.”
“Yeah, but if it gets to be too much. . .” I shrugged. “I’ve got you still here to lift me back up.”
A warm smile spread across his face. “Hmmm. I like that.”
Chapter ten
How a Man Kills
Nyomi
Hiro leaned back in his chair. "Let's start with Kaede."
"Alright. Tell me about him."
"But, first you must understand this one thing.”
“What?”
“The best way to know a Claw is to know how he fights. How he kills."
I swallowed.
Hiro studied my face. "That bothers you?"
"You just said the best way to know someone is to know how they murder people. Yes, Hiro. That makes me a little. . .uncomfortable."
"Why?"
"Because. . ." I took a breath. "Because where I come from, you get to know someone by asking about their childhood. Their dreams. Their favorite foods."
"I can tell you Kaede's favorite food."
"Great—"
"But it won't tell you who he is. Not really." Hiro tilted his head, and something in his expression shifted. It became deeper. More serious than I'd seen all morning. "Nyomi. You want to make drinks that capture these men. That honor them. That show them you see them."
"I do."
"Then you need to understand them the way we understand each other. Not the civilian way. Our way."
I set down my pencil. It suddenly felt too light for this conversation. "And your way is death?"
"Our way is truth." He leaned forward. "When a man takes a life, there's nothing between him and himself. No audience. No expectations. No persona he's trying to maintain. Just him and the act and whatever he really is underneath everything he shows the world."