Blayze’s POV
"Is she dead?" A woman with a mask on her face and terrible burns on her body glanced at Azariah.
"No. The wine I gave Mr. Windsor is not that toxic. I have given her the antidote. She will not die." I looked at her and patiently wiped her sweat.
The woman in the mask let out a sneer of disdain. "She never took a good look at you. You're just a tool to get what she wants. You've done more for her than a partnership."
I didn't speak, but fanned Azariah gently.
"What a poor simp. Men are a bargain. The more distant a woman is to him, the more fanatical he becomes. But when the woman was warm to him, he cooled down. Women shouldn't be too nice to men because it's in their nature to like what they can't have."
She kicked the chair on the floor. "I'm hungry."
"There's food in the kitchen. You're on your own." I wasn't in the mood for her.
"How can I eat that food? My dog eats better than that."
