Adrian Kael
“Good evening, my love,” I reply, laughing quietly. “Yes, I slept well.
Feeling your warmth and your scent was the best sleeping pill.”
He lets out a short laugh and rolls his eyes.
“Always exaggerated,” he comments, sitting down beside me. “I
brought dinner, since we missed lunch. And feel special: I prepared it
myself.”
My eyes go wide, incredulous.
“What? You… cooked?”
“Don’t look at me like that.” He smiles, amused. “I know how to cook.
How do you think I survived all these years? I woke up earlier and
used the kitchen. It was a bit hard to move because of the pain, but I
managed.”
I look at the plate and I’m surprised. The meal is simple, but it looks like a banquet: fluffy rice, succulent meat covered in a dark, fragrant sauce, sautéed vegetables coloring the plate, and a generous slice of
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crusty bread on the side. The warm aroma fills the air, mixing with
the steam still escaping from the food.
He watches my reaction with a half–smile on the corner of his lips.
“I hope you like it. You’re the first person I’ve ever cooked for.” His
voice comes out soft, almost shy.
I stare at him, and a possessive instinct runs through my entire body.
Knowing I’m the first to taste his food awakens something hot and
intense inside me, a satisfaction that is almost primitive.
“I’m sure it’s delicious, love,” I say, opening a half–smile. “And even if
you’d put poison in it, I’d eat it with pleasure… and still be smiling.”
He rolls his eyes, huffing.
“Why do your examples always have to be so perverse and crazy?”
I give a slight smile, which makes him shake his head.
“Forget it. Now let’s eat.‘
“Yes, sir.”
When I reach out to take the spoon, he’s faster. He grabs the utensil
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before me and lifts it, staring at me. I furrow my brow, confused, until
I see him take a portion of food and hold it out to my mouth.
The simple gesture makes my heart race. His cheeks take on a reddish
hue that makes him even more handsome.
“You always take care of me,” he speaks softly, looking away for a
second. “And… I want to make amends for not trusting your feelings.
So, just for today, I’ll be the one taking care of you.”
I bring my hand to my chest, feeling my heartbeat accelerate. My
breath hitches; my whole body reacts to what he’s saying.
“Are you serious? You’re going to spoil me?”
He sighs, as if gathering courage.
“Yes,” he answers firmly. “I realized I hurt you too much. Even if I like
you, it also hurt to think you had betrayed me. But you were the one
who felt the greater weight, since you love me so madly.”
He pauses and lifts the spoon again.
“This is my way of saying I’m really sorry. So, shut up and eat,
dammit.”
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The gruffness of the last words draws a light laugh from me, my chest
warm with happiness. I take a deep breath, trying to contain the silly
smile, and take the bite. The flavor of the food fills my mouth–strong
and delicious.
“It’s incredible, love. Thank you,” I murmur, leaning in to seal his lips
in a slow, sweet kiss.
“I’m glad you liked it,” he replies with a small smile. “Now, shut up
and eat.
I obey, smiling, quiet, letting myself be fed by him.
It seems like I’m going to end up dying today. With the same spoon
he uses to feed me, he brings the food to his own mouth, as if it were
the most natural thing in the world. He doesn’t even think about
switching.
This man is going to finish off the rest of my sanity, if I even have any
left.
Every gesture of his leaves me crazier, more surrendered. And, fuck,
I’m happy. Happy in a simple and sincere way, because he’s spoiling
me, taking care of me, even if it’s only for today.
It’s strange, but it’s the best day of my life. Seeing Magnus like this-
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calm, gentle, striving to make amends–makes my heart feel light.
He’s trying, for real.
As I watch him, I realize how much he’s changed. I think about how I
wanted our first meeting to have been different, in another place, not
in this prison.
But honestly? I don’t regret anything. If I could go back in time, I’d
do it all again–every choice, every mistake–just to have him here
with me.
Seeing him open his heart like this is worth more than anything. I
always said that if I could pull a true feeling out of him, all the
violence would stop.
And I’m keeping my promise.
I’ve learned not to expect an “I love you” coming from him. Magnus
isn’t someone for sweet words, and that’s fine. I’ve already accepted
that his love isn’t expressed in declarations, but in gestures, and
today, he is proving that.
Maybe he doesn’t realize it yet, but he already loves me. It’s there, in
the way he regretted hurting me, in the silent care of preparing
dinner with his own hands, in the effort to make me smile.
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If that isn’t love, then I really don’t know what is.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
