Lean's POV
"BAT!"
He bellows my name—or, well, my nickname—like thunder kicking in the front door.
Ah yes. I am dead! Very dead!
Shit.
Smoke coils around me like some demon I summoned by accident. The fire alarm's losing its mind, shrieking like a banshee, while I flail around the apartment like a panicked rat wielding a pan full of charred... something.
"I swear it looked like a pancake tutorial!" I croak, waving the burnt pan at the smoke like that'll help.
Dominic storms in, eyes wild, coat still on, hair windblown, chest heaving like he just ran through a war zone. His nose wrinkles instantly.
"What the actual fuck did you do?!"
I gesture to the blackened crime scene in the sink and offer an awkward, guilty smile. "Surprise dinner?"
"You tried to cook?" he snaps, throwing the windows open. "With what? A flamethrower?!"
"Well... I might've confused baking powder with flour. And maybe set the stove to 'volcano mode.' And then I tossed in some rainbow spices with the pasta—"
"You have a death wish!"
"I just wanted to do something nice!" I pout. "You cooked for me. I thought... I don't know. It'd be sweet to return the favor."
He looks at me like I just confessed to stabbing Santa.
I tug at my apron—which is actually just his white T-shirt tied around my waist—and smile sheepishly. "Besides, I looked cute trying."
No response.
Just silence.
He closes his eyes and breathes through his nose. Once. Twice.
"I swear," he mutters, "one more disaster and I'll tie you to the fire escape!!"
"Kinky again!" I grin. "I'm sensing a pattern, Alpha Grumps."
That earns me a glare so sharp I almost sprout holy water.
I try to look fearless, but he's really mad this time. Like I'm-gonna-shit-my-pants mad. He looks scary.
Shut up! He is going to cook you next!! my brain screams.
He stomps over, grabs the ruined pan, and slams it into the sink. "Get the fuck out of the kitchen before I actually throw you out the window."
"You're such a softie," I sigh dreamily, floating backward like a prince with an attitude problem. "My knight in grumpy armor."
Then—he lunges.
Catches me by the throat.
Oh gods. He's going to punch me.
I shut my eyes, trembling. I mean—how is he even this strong? Humans can't even move my pinky without divine permission!
But seconds pass. My pretty face? Still intact.
I peek, slowly.
His face...
It's not rage.
It's frustration.
He lets go and sighs, shoulders slumping. Turns back to the battlefield kitchen. Says nothing.
But...
I saw it. Just a flicker.
Liquid dangling in his golden eyes.
Oh no. Tears. I made a grown man cry. From pasta?! I am a monster, wait I am a Monster though! But Wait—no! I'm a good monster!!
BUT STILL.
Did I really make a grown-ass man cry?!
Devils, I hate myself right now.
I'd have paid for the pasta. The pan. The entire kitchen. I'm a rich ass—well, I was, before those bitches looted my family.
---
Dominic's POV
I almost forgot the chaos of tonight.
The girl. The blood. The hunger clawing beneath my ribs.
But of course—of course—this disaster blood sucking goblin lit the kitchen on fire like a Disney sidekick summoning soup.
And the worst part?
He looked proud.
Standing there in my shirt, flour on his nose, eyes too bright and stupidly beautiful.
God. Help. Me.
I scrub the pan like it insulted my ancestors. The smoke clings to the curtains—and worse, to him.
And naturally, he follows me around like a shadow with ADHD.
"I meant to make risotto."
"You don't even know what risotto is."
"It's French, right?"
"It's Italian."
"Close enough."
I spin around, towel in hand. "Stop talking."
He blinks. Big, innocent eyes.
"Seriously. Stop. Five minutes. No sound. Can you manage that?"
He crosses his arms. "Fine. But only if you tell me your name."
I scowl.
He grins. "Come on. I told you mine."
"You didn't."
"Exactly!" he chirps. "But still!"
I sigh. "Dominic."
His whole face lights up like the stove he almost died on.
"Dominic," he repeats, like it's candy. "Dominic. Dom. Dommy. Ooh, I like that—"
"Call me that again and I'll hang you off the balcony by your fangs."
"Then I shall continue with PUPPY!" he sings.
"Sleep with one eye open."
"I already do! I'm a vampire!"
I close my eyes. This is hell. My personal, idiot-infested hell.
And yet...
The idea of him not being here stings more than I care to admit.
Yeah—about the punch? I wanted to. I really did.
But that stupidly cute face? It's too... disfigurable.
So instead, I went with silence. Mature, right?
Except now, my nose and eyes are watering like a curse, because of the million spices he burnt like he was exorcising some demon! My eyes are burning like hell!
Fuck everything!
Fuck Him!