Guarding January Read Online Free PDF Page A

Rye poured the vegetables and the juices on the tray into it and added cream. Then he grabbed a… hell, something, that he put into the pot, and it made noise like the blender.
    Craziness.
    It was sort of fascinating, honestly.
    The pot went back onto the stove, and Rye added more salt and pepper. “Be ready in two minutes.”
    “Are you sure that’s how you do it?”
    “You can be the judge of that when it’s finished.” Rye stirred the “soup.”
    Jeff drank the rest of his shake, feeling more and more solid. “I like the strawberries.”
    “Cool. I was told the chocolate shakes were your favorite, but the fruit ones are better for you.” Pulling down two bowls, Rye then ladled out the soup and brought it over. “There you go. Tomato soup.”
    “I like strawberry shakes almost as much as chocolate….” He eyed the bowl. It looked like soup. Sticking his finger in, he swirled it around, then sucked it clean. Spicy, warm, creamy. It was good. He stared up at Rye. “It’s soup.”
    “I told you. You want sandwiches or just toast points with it?” Rye went back and cut a couple of slices of bread from a loaf of something dark.
    “What the fuck is a toast point?” Jeff dipped and licked again.
    “Toast cut into triangles.” Rye gave him a shit-eating grin that lit his whole face up.
    “Why do they call them toast points, and no, I don’t need them. I had a shake.”
    Rye shrugged. “I don’t know. They just do.” Rye put a single slice of the dark bread into the toaster. Then he brought over a spoon, along with the salt and pepper shakers. “In case you need either, though it’s pretty well seasoned.”
    It was all so very fucking normal.
    Quiet.
    Nice.
    Rye’s toast popped, and he cut it into triangles, coming back to sit next to him and eat. “So what do you usually do when you aren’t touring or playing guitar?”
    “Write music. Sleep. Make appearances.”
    “No hobbies?”
    “I write programs.” Sometimes. He liked his computer, his phone, liked being anonymous.
    “Oh? What kind of programs?”
    It was weird; nobody had ever really asked about him, been interested in him outside of Lord January.
    “Just stuff. Like with the movies. Apps. Silly things. I like code. That’s what my degree is in. Engineering, with a minor in music.” Music was just math, after all.
    “You’ve got a degree in engineering? That’s pretty cool.” Rye grinned. “Nice to know you’ve got a mind under all that hair.”
    “Hey. I’m a lord of the undead.” His lips twisted.
    Rye laughed for him, eyes crinkling.
    Jeff ate the soup before standing up, restless. Maybe he should explore the house.
    Rye watched him, but it wasn’t like how everyone else watched Lord January. It was… more personal. Less groupyish.
    “Thank you for the soup. It was nice.” Nice. God. He wandered off, heading into the main part of the house.
    It was dark and heavy, ponderous, with solid leather furniture and Gothic decorations. There was a huge painting of January in the living area, gaunt and odd.
    Rye trailed him through the empty rooms.
    There were bedrooms and rooms with video games, a room with a pool table, and one with a huge cross in the middle of the room. Weird.
    “You have a St. Andrew’s Cross?” Rye went over and checked it out.
    “Do I?” Jeff shrugged and headed to look in cabinets and such. There were tons of sexual things in there, bondage and pain. He thought he recognized some of them from the Bonds of Agony tour.
    “I’m surprised you’ve got all this stuff, given you said you’re asexual.”
    “This is from a tour. I’m too tired to have sex.” He waved one hand, dismissing the conversation.
    “Seems to me like you’re too tired to do anything most of the time. You need to be more careful of your health, or you won’t even be able to tour anymore.”
    “That’s what the drugs are for.” That was what this healing was for, to get healthy enough to tour.
    “You can’t do the drugs