THIRST

Chapter Nine: Date Night (Bane)

The lights of the kitchen came to life as I flipped on the switch and walked over to the marble Island and sat down on one of the many bar stools while Setekh placed the bag on the counter. He looked around the room as if to familiarize himself with it before dumping the contents and turning to face the stove. Then I watched as he found the pots and pans and chose the one needed to get started. Filling the pot with water, he returned it to the stove, setting the temperature, then turning to face me. And yet, even though he was smiling at me with a grin on his face, I could tell when something was not right.

"What's on the menu this evening, chef?"

"An old family delicacy that is one of my mother's all-time favorite Italian dishes. Rigatoni con la Pagliata."

"Sounds delicious. Oh, I almost forgot that you wanted water. I'll get it for you."

As I made the motion to move off the stool, Setekh held up his hand. "No. You. Sit. I am, after all, making dinner for you. The least I can do is get my own water."

"Okay. So what do you want to talk about?"

"He smirked. "You."

"Besides that. How old are you?"

"Guess."

"Well to be perfectly honest, you look to be about twenty-five. But the way you speak and hold yourself, proves to me that you're really older than what you appear to be."

Setekh popped open a container of garlic gloves as he placed them on the chopping block and began cutting them into thin, even slices. "You're very observant. In fact, I am twenty-five years old. But that's only by human standards. When in reality the truth can sometimes be harder to bare then light. I am five thousand years old."

I could barely contain the look on my face as my eyes widened in shock. Impossible. No supernatural could live that long. But then again, vampires are immortal and they don't look a day over thirty-five. Perhaps werewolves could live just as long as vampires, but I still don't see how that's humanly possible. I mean, surely they would have to age very, very slowly over a few countless centuries, give or take. Unless however, Setekh was born a pureblood then maybe it's a possibility. But that would require some serious evidence on his part in order for me to believe him.

"Where are you from originally?" I asked.

"I was born in Egypt, right in the heart of the city of Thebes. My mother was queen and my father was pharaoh. Together, they fought and ruled over endless conflicts that nearly destroyed everything they worked so hard to protect."

"Your mother and father are they—still alive?"

Setekh stopped cutting as he set down the knife and scooped up the evenly cut gloves, placing them into the sizzling pan. I realized I struck an emotional chord with him when he didn't respond or even look at me. I waited for him something, anything but no words came. I leaned sideways in my seat as I looked over and tried to see his reflection in the window but the steam from the boiling pot made it impossible to see his emotions.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Its fine," he replied, his voice making me jump.

"Why don't I—"

"They were murdered," he said clearly. "I couldn't have saved my mother. My father died on the steps of the palace trying to fend them off. I, however, was too weak to lift myself out of bed for the war had spilled into our house after my transformation. It all happened so fast. By the next evening, what remained of my father's guards found me laying on the floor next to my mother's lifeless body. She died...trying to protect me."