But it’s professional-grade, certainly better than anything I need for a simple omelet.
I feel almost ridiculous using the massive commercial grill for my humble breakfast, but it’s the most efficient way to incorporate the best ingredients plus some protein.
I have no clue where Abaddon stormed off to, but if he’s not going to insist I kneel on the floor while he feeds me from his questionably clean claws, I’m certainly not complaining.
Instead, I dine using silverware that appears to be actual silver. Even though I intend to eat slowly, I absolutely devour the meal. There’s even fresh orange juice!
After days of minimal nutrition, it feels like absolute paradise. I settle back on a small stool beside one of the long stainless-steel counters and pat my satisfied stomach.
Pure bliss.
I clean up at a leisurely pace—not like I have pressing appointments elsewhere. Then I store the remaining provisions in an enormous walk-in refrigerator.
It’s empty except for a wall of condiments that look as vintage as the kitchen appliances.Yikes.
I turn to gather trash bags and rubber gloves, then tackle the refrigerator cleanout.
Who owned this castle before Abaddon and his brothers arrived? Did their Creator-Father build it? Abaddon shut down so abruptly this morning when I asked about the man. Was he also a demon-monster hybrid? Abaddon mentioned the guy stole “angel-spark” from some Great Hall that wasn’t Heaven but resembled it. So was their father an actual fallen angel? The biblical kind of demon?
I shake my head while discarding an ancient bottle of what appears to be ketchup. The label bears Cyrillic script, supporting my Russia theory.
Maybe this Creator-Father was simply some deranged Cold War scientist conducting human experimentation with a god complex, telling his creations elaborate stories about angels and demons. He referenced Frankenstein, too, so honestly, anything’s possible. Perhaps he imagined himself as something between a deity and modern-day Victor Frankenstein.
I toss the ketchup bottle with a grimace. I definitely don’t want to know what’s growing in these containers after so long.
The cleaning takes several hours.
But even thorough scrubbing can’t eliminate the sour odor inside. Maybe I can ask Abaddon to acquire baking soda on his next outing? Like, ten boxes worth?
I finally exit the refrigerator and close the door, only to yelp at finding Abaddon standing in the kitchen again.
“You’re back!” I say, pulse racing—from his sudden appearance, his grim expression, or simply because... it’s him. Every time I’m near him, my mind flashes to intimate moments we’ve shared and how he’s awakened my body in ways I never imagined possible?—
“I found nothing,” he snarls. “I scoured my entire territory and discovered nothing.”
“Oh,” I respond, blinking. I’m relieved. Mikhail doesn’t need a ten-foot furious Abaddon appearing at his door, causing trouble for helping a nearly dead stranger.
“Oh?” He advances on me. “That’s your only response?”
His horns collide with hanging cookware, and he swipes with one wing, sending the entire rack crashing to the floor.
“Hey!” I immediately drop to collect them. “That was completely unnecessary.”
“What’s necessary is you telling me where you went yesterday!” he roars.
Ugh, I hate when he gets like this.
I look up at him from my knees. His legs appear almost human except where they angle backward at the ankles, ending in hooves rather than feet.
From this angle, I can see exceptionally muscled thighs and shadows beneath the minimal loincloth he occasionally wears. No clothing for me, but he gets this small covering?
I abandon the scattered pots and rise to my feet. My cheeks burn, and I know bright pink spots have appeared. I’m momentarily delighted by how effortlessly I can stand—my entire life, getting off the floor required strategic planning with crutches and furniture for stability. This simple pop-up motion still feels miraculous.
It tempers my irritation since this imposing creature before me granted me that miracle.
So I smile and say, “I had a wonderful breakfast, thank you. Did you eat something? Maybe that’s why you’re so irritable.”
He looks completely taken aback by my subject change.
