I hesitate. After those few days, do I really care if she’s the monster I feared when I first came here? She never harmed me. She saved me. She made love to me. Heck, she worshipped me last night. I look at her, and all I see is a lonely, hurt woman desperate to be loved and, above all, understood. I can relate.
“You opened the door for me that first night,” I simply reply, and it works. She relaxes just a smidge. “I was so scared. I thought you wanted to hurt me. But you didn’t. And not only that. You offered me a haven for the night.”
She heaves a heavy sigh. She appears defeated, but more serene. “It wasn’t me. It was the house.”
My brows furrow. “What do you mean, the house?”
Another sigh, a long exhalation appeasing her. She ambles to the middle of the balcony and leans against the barrier, studying the walls and the ceiling. “This house. It protects me. And yet, it let you in. You weren’t even supposed to find it. Nobody can see it.” She hunches over, chin or her forearms. “But you did...”
I shift closer and lean on my elbows right next to her. She doesn’t move. “Care to elaborate? Cause I don’t really get what you’re trying to explain.” I stare at her sideways and she meets my gaze at the same angle.
“Fuck it. OK. But breakfast first.” She stands up again, puts her hands in her pocket and ambles back towards the stairs. “But not outside.” She glances at me over her shoulder. “You coming?”
CHAPTER13
The kitchen tablegreets us with a dish full of pancakes and its assortment of maple syrup, jams and other spreads, complete with fresh strawberries, raspberries and blueberries. The round smell of freshly brewed arabica fills my nostrils. My stomach grumbles in anticipation.
Bella attacks the plate of pancakes directly, unbothered to add anything to them. I serve myself a giant mug of coffee and offer to fill her cup as well, but she covers it with her hand and shakes her head. She gets up, her mouth full of battered goodness, and goes to the pantry as I sit and smother a couple pancakes with whipped cream, assorted berries, and the most exquisite maple syrup I’ve ever tasted. Bella comes back with a steaming cup and takes her place again, across from me. Our feet touch. Neither of us moves them.
“Hot cocoa,” she says before blowing on the steam.
“Instantly hot?” I pinch my mouth and flutter my eyes. I mean, she’s been there less than a minute. How is that even possible?
“You could say that.”
Here we go again. Mysteries and one-liners. Not this time, lady. I need answers.
“Okay, spill the beans. What’s up with this house?” I hesitate, sucking in my lower lip between my teeth. Here goes nothing. “What’s up with you?”
She sips on her cocoa, taking her time to ponder on what to reply. She sets her cup on the table, holding it with both hands and playing with her fingers on the rim. “You want the short version or the boring one?”
“I want the full story.”
“Full story, huh? I hope you have all day.”
I grin, stuffing my mouth with more pancakes submerged in chocolate spread now.
“OK... Story time.” She inhales deeply, then drinks some more cocoa. “Right. Let’s do this.” One more sip.
I’m on the edge of my seat, chocolate dripping from my forked pancake, mug of coffee in the other hand. Her sip lasts until she’s emptied her cup. She sets it on the table, stares inside, hesitates.
“Come on already!”
“OK, OK! Sheesh, you don’t let go, do you?”
“Never!” I murder the pancake.
“The full story... Well, once upon a time—”
“Oh, that’s gonna be good!”
“Stop interrupting me!”
“Sorry, do go on.”
She hawks theatrically before turning serious as death. “Once upon a time, there was a witch living in a mansion in the heart of a beautiful English forest.”
“That’s you,” I scream, excited as a kiddo at Christmas, “you’re the witch!”