He swallowed again and finally spoke. “No poison,” he said. “Eat now, Sanora. I’m feeding you if I repeat myself.”
That snapped me out of it. Barely.
I blinked and looked down at the plate.
My stomach gave another vicious growl, and I dipped the fork into the food, bringing it to my mouth.
The second it touched my tongue, I stopped breathing.
The flavours danced across my tongue, like nothing I’d tasted in years. The meat was tender and marinated in something smoky, slightly sweet, and spiced just enough to make my throat tingle. The vegetables were soft but not mushy, each one the perfect blend of herbs that made me feel like I was eating straight from a sunlit, magical garden.
I let out a low breath, unable to help the way my eyes fluttered for a second.
Gods.
I could cry.
I chewed, swallowed and then immediately went back for another bite. This time faster.
Had he used magic?
No one made food like this. Not without trickery. Not without enchanting the damn plate. It was better than my mother’s. Better than anything I’d had in any restaurant, anywhere, ever. And that factalone disturbed me. Because he wasn’t even sweating. It was just so good.
With every bite, my awe grew. My stomach kept begging for more, growling even as I fed it.
“Damn,” I breathed, almost moaning, catching myself before the sound slipped too deep.
His lips twitched.
“I take it you approve.”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t because my mouth was too full—and so was my pride, choking on the realisation that he had gotten under my skin, past my walls, right through the thing I thought I could at least control: my body.
I didn’t know how I was going to face him after this vulnerability, but damn if I cared.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THRAX
Soft snores reached Thrax’s ears where he sat by the window, a quiet rhythm threading through the night air, telling him that the little human—who had just been on the phone with her mother—had finally drifted off.
She’d told her mother she was fine. That all was well.
And with the calm, unwavering certainty in her voice, he might’ve believed her too, if he were her mother. But he wasn’t. He was the thing she was still trying to believe wouldn’t hurt her. And the first step to making her believe it…was removing the doubt from her bones.
His eyes remained on the window, past the line of trees that surrounded the edge of the house, beyond the dense forests and towards the hills that cradled the heart of The Crater. Moonlight spilled across the land like poured silver, soft and endless, blanketing the town in a muted grey glow. He could see the hills wrapped in fog, the trees bowing to the hush of the night breeze. It was a quiet kind of beautiful. But distant. Always distant.
Then, it came again.
The soft sound, a small moan pushed from a sleeping throat.
His eyes fluttered closed as he let out a breath, long and quiet. And now, he listened to her breath. The way it hitched. The way itslowed. The subtle changes in rhythm that told him she wasn’t deeply at peace. He mirrored it unconsciously, his own chest rising and falling in sync with hers.
Before he realised what he was doing, he was already on his feet, following the pull of her sleep.
He stepped into the hall and crossed the creaking floorboards until he reached her door. It opened without a sound. Her curtains were drawn, casting the room in soft darkness, and the moonlight slipped through in fractured lines, painting her bed in a silver slash.
She lay curled beneath the blanket, tucked all the way up to her chin like a child seeking shelter. Her breathing was heavier now, a little uneven.
