Page 27 of The Hermit

“Hmm.” The sound rumbles from his chest, making more heat flare in my cheeks.

I ignore the attraction and my body’s reaction to the unnerving man and move to the stove. I drizzle oil into a pan and wait for it to warm before I pour some of the pancake mix in.

While I wait for the bubbles to appear in the batter, I’m overly aware of Dominik staring at me.

“Take a photo. It will last longer,” I mutter.

“I prefer the real thing.”

Ciara comes into the kitchen, and not seeing Dominik, she sighs, “It feels like I’m walking around on eggshells. Do you think we could talk to Dad again?”

I gesture with my eyes in Dominik’s direction, and the moment she notices him, she turns around and hightails it out of the kitchen.

My gaze flicks back to Dominik, and it’s in time to see his eyes narrow on the doorway while looking annoyed.

When he becomes aware I’m staring at him, he says, “It’s difficult to believe you’re sisters.”

My tone is brisk as I ask, “Why’s that?”

“She’s nothing like you. A breeze can probably knock her on her ass.”

“Don’t talk about my sister like that,” I snap, then I smell something burning and exclaim, “Shit!”

I quickly remove the pan from the open flame, and after turning off the heat, I grab a spatula. While I try to scrape the burned pancake off so I can throw it away, the spatula slips and my palm connects with the hot pan.

I hiss when my skin burns and drop everything on the floor, where it clatters loudly.

Before I can even process that I just burned myself, Dominik grabs hold of my right wrist and yanks me toward the sink, sticking my palm beneath the cold water faucet.

His tone is tense and sounds downright angry when he orders, “Boha vyjebaneho! You need to be more careful.”

My eyes dart between his strong fingers wrapped around my wrist and his face. As I watch him inspect my palm, lightly blowing on the red area, I’m stunned out of my everloving mind.

First, he helped me with the eye drops, and now he looks angry because I got hurt?

He blows on the tender spot again, and as his thumb brushes over my wrist as if to soothe me, his eyes flick to mine.

The air tenses between us, and my heartbeat breaks out into a crazy pitter-patter against my ribs.

The instant my stomach flutters, I rip my hand out of his hold and back peddle until I slam into one of the kitchen chairs.

Dominik’s head jerks slightly as if he just caught the scent of a wounded animal, then his eyes narrow with the predatory look I’ve come to fear the past few days.

Just like Ciara did, not even fifteen minutes earlier, I spin around and hurry out of the kitchen.

Rushing toward the stairs, I place my hand over my thundering heart, willing it to calm down.

I’ve never in my life been attracted to someone as dangerous as Dominik Varga, and I don’t like it one bit.

Chapter 8

DOMINIK

When Grace leaves the kitchen with the fear of God trembling in her eyes, I stand rooted to the spot for a couple of minutes.

Interesting. When we fight, she doesn’t back down, but if I show her kindness, she retreats at the speed of light.

I glance at the mess on the floor, and walking to it, I crouch down and begin to clean it all up.

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