✦ EIRA POV ✦
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"I… Adrain… I—"
The words died in my throat. Nothing came out properly. His eyes—those dark, merciless eyes—locked onto mine like I was already guilty of something I didn't understand. They burned with fury so intense it felt like I was being stripped apart from the inside.
"Adrain… I-I'm sorry… for misunderstanding you," I whispered, my voice shaking. My heart was hammering so loudly it hurt.
"I just wanted to—"
Before I could finish, his hand snapped around my wrist.
Cold.
Hard.
Unforgiving.
He pulled me toward the door without hesitation.
"Adrain! Please, listen to me! I'm sorry… let me help you!"
But he didn't even look at me.
"P-please! Just let me explain!"
I struggled against his grip, panic rising in my chest. It was like trying to move against steel.
"You can't just throw me out like this!" My voice broke.
But he didn't stop.
He was about to drag me outside when—
Thud!
"Claira!"
My scream tore out of me as I ripped my hand free and rushed forward.
She was on the floor.
Unconscious.
Still.
"Claira… Claira, open your eyes!" I shook her gently, my voice cracking as fear flooded me.
Something was very wrong.
✦ TIME SKIP ✦
"Doctor… how is she?"
Adrain's voice cut through the room—cold, controlled, but sharper than usual. Dangerous in its restraint.
The doctor adjusted his glasses nervously.
"She's fine, Mr. Blake. But this level of stress is very risky in her condition. She needs complete rest, proper food, and no emotional strain."
A pause.
Then carefully—
"Mr. Blake… if you don't mind me asking… who is she to you?"
The temperature in the room dropped instantly.
"That's none of your business," Adrain said flatly. "Do your job and leave."
His voice wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
The doctor visibly flinched.
"Y-yes… of course."
He gathered his things in a hurry and left like he was escaping something alive.
I exhaled slowly, forcing a polite smile as he passed me. Poor man… just being near Adrain feels like standing too close to a storm.
When I turned back, I felt it.
His eyes.
Still on me.
Heavy.
Unblinking.
Warning.
"W-water…" Claira whispered faintly.
I immediately moved, grabbing a glass.
But before I could reach her—
Adrain was already there.
Kneeling beside her.
Careful.
Unexpectedly gentle.
He lifted her head slightly and helped her drink, his movements controlled, precise… almost protective.
"Are you okay?" His voice softened.
Only for her.
"I… I'm fine," she murmured weakly.
"I'll make something for you," I said quickly, standing up.
I glanced at him—seeking permission.
He didn't respond.
But he didn't stop me either.
So I went.
Fast.
Before he could change his mind.
✦ ADRAIN POV ✦
"She thinks running around will fix anything…"
My voice came out low as I watched her disappear into the kitchen.
Foolish.
Reckless.
Always acting before thinking.
I should've stopped her.
But I didn't.
Not when I saw Claira's face.
Not when I felt her fear still lingering in the air.
"Adrain… try to under—"
"You should rest. We'll talk later," I cut her off.
She nodded.
But then her fingers curled around my wrist.
Weak.
Trembling.
"Adrain… don't be angry with her. She was only trying to help."
Something tightened inside me.
I gently pulled my hand away.
Help?
She had no idea what kind of danger she was stepping into.
Peter wasn't just a problem.
He was a threat.
A real one.
I turned and walked downstairs—
And stopped.
The kitchen looked like a disaster struck it.
Vegetables scattered everywhere.
Flour dust hanging in the air like smoke.
And in the center—
Eira.
Back turned to me.
Struggling.
Messy.
Completely out of her depth.
"What are you doing?"
My voice came out sharper than intended.
She jumped.
Hard.
Then slowly turned.
Her face flushed red with embarrassment.
"I-I'm cooking… I'll clean it later."
A streak of flour was smeared across her forehead. Her hair had fallen loose, strands sticking to her cheeks. She looked ridiculous.
Clumsy.
Chaotic.
And—
Unfairly… cute.
I frowned slightly at the thought.
What the hell is wrong with me?
✦ EIRA POV ✦
"You should… go out," I muttered quickly, mortified. "I'll handle it."
"I'll cook. Leave."
His voice was flat.
Final.
He picked up an apron and tied it around his waist like he belonged there.
"No, Adrain! You don't—"
His eyes snapped to mine.
Instant silence.
I swallowed the rest of my words.
He turned back to the counter without another word.
I sighed in defeat and stepped away—
But suddenly—
His hand caught my wrist.
He pulled me back.
Hard.
I stumbled forward, my palm landing against his chest to steady myself.
Too close.
Way too close.
My breath stopped.
His gaze pinned me in place—dark, steady, unreadable.
Then slowly…
His fingers reached my forehead.
He brushed away a strand of flour-dusted hair.
Careful.
Almost… gentle.
His thumb lingered for a second too long.
My heart betrayed me completely.
Then—
He stepped back.
Cold again.
"Flour," he muttered. "At least learn to do something properly."
My face burned instantly.
What… was that?
What just happened?
"Clean this mess."
His voice snapped me back.
I crouched down quickly, picking up vegetables, trying not to think about him.
Trying and failing.
Because I could see him.
Every movement.
Precise.
Controlled.
Dangerously calm.
The knife moved like it obeyed him. Vegetables fell perfectly sliced. Oil hissed in the pan. Every motion was effortless… powerful.
I shouldn't be staring.
But I couldn't stop.
When I finally looked again—
The food was done.
Perfect.
Tomato pasta. Salad. Soup. Pancakes.
It looked like something out of a restaurant.
I hesitated.
Then stole a bite of pancake.
Just one.
One second later—
My eyes widened.
It was unreal.
Sweet. Warm. Perfect.
"You're… a food magician," I whispered without thinking.
Splash!
Hot soup spilled onto my hand.
"Ahh—AAAHH!"
Pain shot through me instantly.
Before I could react, he was there.
Grabbing my wrist.
Pulling me under cold water.
Firm.
Controlled.
Protective.
"Are you blind?" His voice snapped, sharp with panic. "Do you want to burn yourself?"
"I-I'm sorry! I just took one bite—just one!"
"And this is what happens? You hurt yourself like this?"
His grip tightened slightly.
"You don't even know how to eat properly."
"You can't say that to me! I didn't—"
"Stop talking."
His voice cut through everything.
Cold.
Final.
But underneath it—
Something unstable.
Something shaking.
"Leave! I can take care of myself!"
I tried to pull away—
But he didn't let go.
"Don't you dare move."
His voice dropped.
Low.
Dangerous.
Almost trembling.
My breath caught.
His eyes held mine—
And suddenly the world felt too small.
Too close.
Too quiet.
And I wasn't sure anymore…
If I even wanted him to let go.