“I’m sorry. Nox is right; I normally have better control. I need to feed,” he murmured, and then he turned his head so effortlessly and kissed the inside of my palm. The warmth of his lips against my skin made my blood heat and flutters pulse low in my gut. His eyes watched me as he spoke. “Nox will take you back to the house. I’ll be there soon.”
I nodded, assuming he was leaving to feed as he released my hand and disappeared through the trees.
Nox and I headed back toward the house. I looked over my shoulder one last time at the opening and hoped Bastian would be okay.
20
Serina
Istirredawakebeforethe sun, my hair still damp from my shower last night as I sat up and tied it up into a messy bun on top of my head.
I didn’t smell breakfast cooking yet, and as I thought about it, I figured I could cook breakfast for Nox and Thorne as an apology for whooping their asses in the woods the other day. They were stiffly hobbling around the house last night, even after a day had passed.
They kept assuring me they were healing normally, but doubt still nibbled at my brain about it. Hopefully after another goodnight’s sleep and some breakfast, they would feel better. Perhaps that might fully heal their wounds and boisterous egos.
I slipped on my house shoes, leaving my weapons in my room, then quietly walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. I had done little to no cooking in my life; I lived off of fast food and diners, so I didn’t even know where to start, but it couldn’t be that hard to make French toast, could it?
I went to the fridge, grabbing the milk, eggs, and bacon. Next, I looked through the pantry for cinnamon, sugar, vanilla, and anything else I thought I might need.
I pulled out a large pan and sprayed it with a ridiculous amount of oil because I didn’t want the bread to stick. I cranked up the gas stove as high as it would go to bake the bacon. Then I placed a pan on the burner and did the same to heat up the pan. Once the inside was fully heated, I threw the bacon inside and closed the door.
Next, I blended the eggs and milk together, but the mixture seemed way to runny. Oh well, there was no going back now.
I tossed the bread in and soaked it with the concoction before throwing it in the pan. I did that three more times, as the pan was big enough for four pieces.
It sizzled and popped, but soon black smoke began circling above it, and it only kept getting darker and darker as I flipped it. The bread was charred and black on one side.
“Shit,” I murmured under my breath and then tossed that piece on a plate before trying again. One side was black, while the other was still runny with the eggy mixture.
The next batch I tried again, flipping it sooner, but it was still awful, and as I took a small nibble off of one of them, I realized it was extremely salty. What the hell?
I hadn’t grabbed the sugar… I had grabbed the salt.
“Fuck,” I mumbled again with a groan.
“What are you doing?” Thorne’s sleepy voice came from behind me, cutting through the silence. I turned quickly on my feet to face him.
“Uh, I was trying to make you guys breakfast,” I said, eyeing his body.
He was shirtless in nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants. The wounds on his body had closed, but the skin was still bruised, and redness still lingered where the holes had been.
I didn’t care what they said; they were healing slowly for some reason.
He snickered under his breath as he walked over to me and wrapped his arms around my waist, effortlessly leaving a gentle kiss on my forehead. I didn’t question it; his presence around me had always been so gentle, and even now, him touching me, even kissing me on the forehead just felt so… right.
I moved out of his way and out of his arms as he admired my horrendous attempt at cooking. I huffed a breath just as his hand was reaching for the coffee.
“What’s still burning?” he asked, glancing around in confusion.
Then my eyes grew to the size of saucers as I rushed to the oven to try and save the bacon. But it was too far gone.
I opened the door and black smoke barreled out of the oven. The bacon had caught fire, and I went for it without a thought. As soon as my fingers skimmed the pan, I pulled back with a squeal of pain, not thinking about the heat, only thinking about how I needed to get it out of the damn oven.
I grabbed the oven mitt and threw it on quickly, then grabbed the pan again. Now I was holding a pan with a campfire of bacon on top of it.
“Ahhh!” I hissed as I tossed the pan in the sink; the heat had hit my already burned hand through the thin oven mitt, causing my already blistering fingers to burn more.
“Fuck, Serina, are you alright?'' Thorne exclaimed, yanking the mitt off of my hand and quickly examining my singed fingers.
