Inferno Anthology by Jessica Sorensen, Aleatha Romig, Kailin Gow, Cassia Leo, Lacey Weatherford, Liv Morris, Vi Keeland, Kimberly Knight, Addison Moore, Laurelin Paige Page A
Authors: Jessica Sorensen, Aleatha Romig, Kailin Gow, Cassia Leo, Lacey Weatherford, Liv Morris, Vi Keeland, Kimberly Knight, Addison Moore, Laurelin Paige
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tongue, she turned to face the class.
The lesson, a review of culinary plating techniques, was long and tedious. Though Madame Desperreault was reputed to have talent as a chef, her talent for teaching was sorely lacking. She had a droning and draining voice that could turn the most vibrant topic into something bland and blasé.
Taryn was happy to finally be out of the class, out of the school and into her taxi for the ride home. Eager to see how Errol had managed during the day, she put the key in the lock and opened the door.
The apartment was as it had been when she’d left that morning. It was impossible to believe he’d spent the entire day in bed. Worried about the depression he seemed to be in, she tiptoed to his door and pushed it open.
His bed was empty. She glanced toward the closet door. Things had been pulled out and discarded.
“Errol,” she called out into the empty apartment. Knowing what she’d find, she went into the bathroom. There were vague signs he’d taken a shower, and some of his toiletries were gone. “Errol.”
Hurrying back to his room, she looked for his grandmother’s urn. It, too, was gone.
“Damn it, Errol. Where did you go?” she muttered into the room.
The answer, simple and vague, came by way of a hastily scribbled note on the refrigerator door.
Gone for a few days.
Chapter 12
Taryn spent the next four days alone, wondering and worried. Other than the simple note, she had absolutely no idea where he was, what he was doing, or when he’d come home. At school many speculated on his absence: He’s mourning in private. He went to the Mediterranean to dispose of his Nana’s ashes. He’s off partying somewhere to ease the pain.
But the theory that most disturbed Taryn was that he’d returned to a long ago lover; a woman who’d loved Errol dearly and who’d been greatly appreciated by his Nana.
At night she dwelled on that notion, envisioning him wrapped in that woman’s arms, his body pressed against hers, and her cries of ecstasy sounding in his ears.
In that endless week, she’d gone through hours of worry, a day of near panic and now two sleepless nights that left her pained and increasingly angry.
Why hadn’t he brought her with him? Why hadn’t he even bothered to call since leaving? Why had he chosen to go off with this other woman?
Sitting in front of a dinner she didn’t have the appetite to eat, Taryn finally allowed the release of a few tears.
She’d been naïve and stupid enough to think she could actually mean something to him. Like so many women before her, she’d misinterpreted all those little kisses, every tender touch, every hushed word in her ear. She’d allowed herself to think they’d meant something.
And in return, she had allowed him to mean something to her. Frustrated with herself and angry at him, she put her hands over her face and let out a pain-filled cry. With her elbows propped up on the table, she sat behind the darkness of her hands, reviewing all that had happened and wondering how she’d let herself get in so deep.
As his playful, flirtatious, wicked ways came back to haunt her, rage slowly simmered up to the top. She opened her eyes and looked around the apartment that was his playpen; the place he brought women to do with as he pleases all while toying carelessly with their hearts.
“Shit!” She grabbed her fork and threw it across the room.
“Is your food really that bad?”
A jolt of relief brought her to her feet. She turned to face Errol and was touched by the loss still visible in his eyes, but his playful grin brought her rage back to consume her.
“I didn’t think you’d miss my cooking that much,” he said as he set down his bags.
“You really think you can just waltz in and start making cute jokes, Errol?” She heard the venom in her voice. Though surprised, she was happy to discover she was finally ready to stand up for herself.
His eyes immediately hardened as did his tone. “It’s my place.
The lesson, a review of culinary plating techniques, was long and tedious. Though Madame Desperreault was reputed to have talent as a chef, her talent for teaching was sorely lacking. She had a droning and draining voice that could turn the most vibrant topic into something bland and blasé.
Taryn was happy to finally be out of the class, out of the school and into her taxi for the ride home. Eager to see how Errol had managed during the day, she put the key in the lock and opened the door.
The apartment was as it had been when she’d left that morning. It was impossible to believe he’d spent the entire day in bed. Worried about the depression he seemed to be in, she tiptoed to his door and pushed it open.
His bed was empty. She glanced toward the closet door. Things had been pulled out and discarded.
“Errol,” she called out into the empty apartment. Knowing what she’d find, she went into the bathroom. There were vague signs he’d taken a shower, and some of his toiletries were gone. “Errol.”
Hurrying back to his room, she looked for his grandmother’s urn. It, too, was gone.
“Damn it, Errol. Where did you go?” she muttered into the room.
The answer, simple and vague, came by way of a hastily scribbled note on the refrigerator door.
Gone for a few days.
Chapter 12
Taryn spent the next four days alone, wondering and worried. Other than the simple note, she had absolutely no idea where he was, what he was doing, or when he’d come home. At school many speculated on his absence: He’s mourning in private. He went to the Mediterranean to dispose of his Nana’s ashes. He’s off partying somewhere to ease the pain.
But the theory that most disturbed Taryn was that he’d returned to a long ago lover; a woman who’d loved Errol dearly and who’d been greatly appreciated by his Nana.
At night she dwelled on that notion, envisioning him wrapped in that woman’s arms, his body pressed against hers, and her cries of ecstasy sounding in his ears.
In that endless week, she’d gone through hours of worry, a day of near panic and now two sleepless nights that left her pained and increasingly angry.
Why hadn’t he brought her with him? Why hadn’t he even bothered to call since leaving? Why had he chosen to go off with this other woman?
Sitting in front of a dinner she didn’t have the appetite to eat, Taryn finally allowed the release of a few tears.
She’d been naïve and stupid enough to think she could actually mean something to him. Like so many women before her, she’d misinterpreted all those little kisses, every tender touch, every hushed word in her ear. She’d allowed herself to think they’d meant something.
And in return, she had allowed him to mean something to her. Frustrated with herself and angry at him, she put her hands over her face and let out a pain-filled cry. With her elbows propped up on the table, she sat behind the darkness of her hands, reviewing all that had happened and wondering how she’d let herself get in so deep.
As his playful, flirtatious, wicked ways came back to haunt her, rage slowly simmered up to the top. She opened her eyes and looked around the apartment that was his playpen; the place he brought women to do with as he pleases all while toying carelessly with their hearts.
“Shit!” She grabbed her fork and threw it across the room.
“Is your food really that bad?”
A jolt of relief brought her to her feet. She turned to face Errol and was touched by the loss still visible in his eyes, but his playful grin brought her rage back to consume her.
“I didn’t think you’d miss my cooking that much,” he said as he set down his bags.
“You really think you can just waltz in and start making cute jokes, Errol?” She heard the venom in her voice. Though surprised, she was happy to discover she was finally ready to stand up for herself.
His eyes immediately hardened as did his tone. “It’s my place.
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