Page 24 of Hunted

“I’m okay with that.” She still wasn’t sure she understood his reasoning.

If they were in broad daylight, and in public, they wouldn’t be able to transform. But she would take what she could get if it meant she could get more fresh air.

But he’s only following the guidance of the healer,she reminded herself.

As she started to get out of the car, Dominic stopped her. “Hang on a minute.” He ran around to the other end of the car, opened the door, and held out his hand. “I’m not one for overly masculine displays,” Dominic said. “I know you can open the door just fine. I just saw you limping earlier and thought I’d help.”

Abigail nodded, taking his hand as he pulled her gently out of the car.

“If you want, I can carry you in,” Dominic offered. “I know I don’t look the strongest, but you’d be surprised.”

“I’ll be fine,” Abigail assured him.

“Okay,” Dominic replied, “but take it slow. You’re gonna need your rest.”

Maybe she should have found his treatment of her condescending, but she actually kind of loved the attention. It would have been awful if he just picked her up without asking, but she was seeing a thoughtful and compassionate side not driven by obligation but by concern and selflessness.

He stayed close by as they walked in, so that when she struggled or limped, he could offer her a shoulder to lean on.

The pain was definitely intensifying again.

She was halfway worried that she had damaged something. Her stomach was sore to the touch and her calf muscles burned.

“You need to rest,” Dominic reiterated, as he led her back to the couch. “Let me get you your pain meds.”

She thanked him as he headed to the kitchen and poured her a glass of water, putting her leftover breakfast in the fridge.

He could have led her back up the creaky stairs to her bedroom where she might have been more comfortable, but he knew she liked to fall asleep to noise, and the guest room where she was staying didn’t have a television. She hadn’t noticed how well he picked up on the little things that Luke missed.

He gave Abigail her prescribed medication and some over-the-counter drugs, including some pills to help her sleep better, and she fell asleep to the sounds of daytime television.

Her eyelids drooped as the game show host recounted what the contestant had won, the wheel spinning in the background.

She awoke to the sounds of rain and a skillet frying in the kitchen. In her groggy state, she could hear the storm blaring outside and thought maybe it had come to whisk her away back home. Her eyelids closed again, and she imagined she was being carried through the sky in a spinning house, a small dog barking frantically.

But outside, there wasn’t a witch on a broomstick cackling. There was only the stern face of Luke’s father glaring through the window as he clung to the rotating structure. He was angry as he had been on the day she left, but something about his features wasn’t right, almost appearing beast-like, as he shouted nonsense through the window, dampened by the rushing wind.

She awoke to the sounds of primetime television and Dominic standing over her with a plate in his hand.

“I hope you don’t mind.” Dominic smiled sheepishly. “I… felt a little bad about the fast-food breakfast, so I cooked you some dinner.”

“It was fine,” Abigail assured him, grunting as she sat upright. She was feeling a little better, but she didn’t realize what bad shape she was in, even now. “I like a nice egg sandwich now and then.”

“A nice sun-warmed egg sandwich that sat in my car for thirty minutes?” Dominic raised a brow.

Abigail nodded unconvincingly.

“Nah. I made you something I think you’ll like a little better,” Dominic assured her, seeing through her failed deception.

He handed her a plate he had dished up for her. He went back and made a plate for himself in the kitchen before coming out and sitting on the sofa beside her.

Abigail wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Back home, she mostly stuck to the simple foods she’d known growing up. She loved simple, home-cooked meals. But Dominic seemed to be enjoying cooking for her. On her plate seemed to be some kind of fried, breaded meat on a bed of rice.

“What is this?” Her tone was a little blunter than she intended.

“It’s pretty simple,” Dominic said. “It’s just breaded fried pork on a bed of brown rice.”

Noting her confusion, he added, “Tonkatsu.”

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