My heart was hammering in my chest as Draven pulled me into his arms, holding me close against his chest. The warmth of his embrace only intensified the weight of everything I’d been holding in, and I couldn’t stop the sobs from shaking through me.
“Shh,” he whispered into my hair, his voice like a soothing balm against the rawness of my emotions. “You are all right,” he murmured.
The tears didn’t stop, but for the first time in so long, I allowed myself to lean into the comfort he offered. I buried my face in his chest, and without thinking, the words began to spill out.
“The day you rescued me at the river,” I began, my voice trembling. “The day you brought me here … That was the night my mother died. A Blood Hunter attacked her. He killed her. I found her. When I tried to kill the monster who did it …” My voice broke again, the memory too raw to bear. “I fell into the river.”
“Why did you not tell me sooner?” Draven asked.
I looked up at him, my tears staining the fabric of his shirt. The fabric darkened where my grief had soaked through, and I tried to wipe it away, but the damage was done.
“I was afraid,” I whispered. “I did not know you. I thought … I did not know if I could trust you. And when you brought me into your home, I was afraid of what you might think of me. I was afraid you would throw me out.”
Draven’s hands moved to my shoulders, gently guiding me back just enough so he could look directly into my eyes.
“My heart,” he said, his voice thick with sincerity. “I would have helped you, no matter what.” The words were simple, but they were enough.
In that moment, the heaviness inside of me lifted slightly. His words were an anchor that I hadn’t known I needed.
“Thank you.”
“Are you hungry?” he asked me.
“Yes, I am.”
“Perfect. I gave the maids the night off. I thought it would be nice if I cooked us dinner tonight.”
I looked at him, blinking. I had never had a man offer to cook for me before, and a flutter of excitement whirled up inside of me. I didn’t want to appear too eager as he started to prepare the meal.
Draven looked right at home in the kitchen, opening the cupboards, taking out pots and pans, and arranging food on the counters. I stood in the corner, not sure of what to do. I wanted to stay out of his way. He took out a bottle from a locked cupboard on the top of a shelf. Draven poured himself a drink into a dark glass. He lifted it to his lips, and I watched as he took a long, slow sip.
“May I try?”
“Not today,” Draven replied, his voice husky. “This is strong. Though, I have something else you can try, that I think you will enjoy.”
He pulled out a smaller bottle holding tawny-coloured liquid and poured a modest amount into a crystal glass forme. I took it from him. The crystal of the glass felt so thin; it was the most delicate and precious thing I had ever held in my hands. I brought it to my lips, letting the sweet aroma fill my senses before I took a small sip. It was sweet and thick.
“What is it?”
“It is an old port I’ve had for a while,” Draven said. “Do you enjoy it?”
“It is nice. I have never tasted anything like it,” I admitted, then drank the rest of the glass.
“Careful,” Draven cautioned, taking the glass from my hands. “It is strong.”
He poured me another. “Savour it this time.” He placed the glass into my hands, his fingers briefly brushing mine.
I sipped it carefully as I watched Draven move purposefully around the kitchen. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing his forearms, and my heart beat harder in my chest. His muscles flexed as he started chopping vegetables, and I looked away slightly as my thoughts started to wander about other parts of his body.
“Do you need help?”
“No, thank you, Rosalia. I am makingyoudinner.” Hearing him say my name gave me goosebumps.
“Cooking has always been a passion of mine.” His voice was soft and tinged with nostalgia. “My mother was an incredible cook. She taught me everything I know about the art of preparing a good meal, even though it has been a while since I have cooked for myself.”
“Can you tell me more about your mother?”
A wistful smile tugged at Draven’s lips as he scooped the vegetables and put them in a pan on the stove. “She was a remarkable woman, kind and compassionate. She had a way of making everyone feel welcomed and loved. She used to say that a good meal has the power to heal both body and soul.”
