His gaze swept over me, and I saw the moment he remembered why we were here. The look in his eyes turned softer. He set the spatula down and strode over to me.
“You shouldn’t be walking around yet,” he said, his brows furrowing as he slipped an arm around me. “Come here.”
He guided me to a barstool at the kitchen island, as though I might break if he wasn’t gentle enough.
“How are you feeling?”
“Weak,” I admitted. “A little shaky.”
He nodded curtly. “I figured as much. That’s why I’m making you breakfast. You need to eat and get some energy back.”
“I thought you couldn’t cook?”
“I never said Icouldn’tcook, I said Idon’tcook.”
He set a plate piled high with pancakes, bacon, and eggs in front of me, then poured me a glass of water and sat down across from me, his eyes never leaving my face.
“Eat.”
I picked up the fork and took a tentative bite. The food was warm, comforting, and I hadn’t realized how hungry I was untilthe first taste hit my tongue. I ate slowly, my gaze flicking to Raffaele every few moments. He was watching me with soft eyes but an otherwise unreadable look on his face.
“Thank you,” I said.
He nodded, drumming his fingers against the countertop. “It’s nothing.”
But it wasn’t nothing. I could feel the depth of his concern through the bond. He was carrying it all silently, for me. Part of me wondered if his feelings were simply from guilt, or if there was something more there.
My eyes drifted to the knives on the counter, their sharp edges glinting in the firelight. The image hit me like a bolt of lightning—Lord Thorne smiling cruelly down at me, the cold blade slicing into my chest.
The fork clattered from my hand as I gasped and squeezed my eyes shut. I gripped the counter, breathing heavily through my nose.
“Vivian.”
Raffaele’s voice pulled me back from the edge. I felt his arms around me, steady and strong. “You’re okay,” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. “You’re safe. He can’t hurt you here.”
Slowly, my breathing steadied, and I leaned into his embrace, letting the warmth of him wash over me. When I opened my eyes, I found him watching me with a mixture of concern and unbridled anger.
“Are we really safe?” I asked.
“Yes. The wards here are strong enough to keep him out. Even if he found us—which he won’t—there’s no way he could get in. You’re safe, Vivian. I promise you.”
I searched his face, looking for any hint of doubt, but there was none. His conviction was unwavering, and through the bond, I felt the truth of his words.
“Okay,” I whispered.
He took my hand, his touch gentle as he led me from the kitchen. The warmth of his palm against mine steadied me.
“Why don’t we sit by the fire for a while?”
I nodded, and we settled on the couch. He wrapped a blanket around me, and I tucked my legs beneath me.
“We should probably talk about what happened,” he said.
I stiffened, digging my fingers into the blanket, and shook my head. “I don’t want to relive it, Raffaele.”
“I don’t either,” he said gently. “I would never ask you to go through that again. But…” He sighed. “I need to know one thing.”
I met his gaze, already knowing what he was about to ask.
