Page 27 of Claimed By the Sinful Dragon
Because one thing was certain: things were changing in our world.
Just fucking brilliant.
Chapter 13
Kaylee
My head ached when I woke the following morning, and I knew from experience it would take at least an hour to pass. Sucked to be me. It served me right for spending half the night crying over a guy, of all things. And not just any guy, the one who held the literal power of life and death over me.
With a groan, I climbed out of the bed and staggered to the window, pulling back the curtains. The sun was just starting to rise, and I probably should have been up sooner, but these curtains were thick enough to block out all the sunlight, and it wasn’t like Rook provided me with an alarm clock, even though I knew he had access to that kind of technology. Probably thought my body clock should already have dialed itself in to his needs.
However you wanted to look at it, Rook was not the guy to fall for. Even if he did somehow miraculously fall in love with me, and then fall into my bed—or maybe the other way around—what happened when the relationship eventually broke down? And it would. Of course it would. Guys like Rook didn’t do long term, which was ironic when you considered that my life span was the blink of an eye to him. But there was no way that Rook could put someone before him for an entire lifetime. I didn't think he was capable of doing it for an hour. Which was fine, because even if he did somehow decide that I wasn't amistake, sooner or later he’d change his mind, and then what? Then I'd spend the rest of my life living in this crappy castle with a man who not only was an arrogant asshole with the power of life or death over me, but also happened to be my ex. Yeah, that was ahard pass, thanks. So really I should be grateful that he turned me down last night.
I hurried through my bathroom routine, feeling at least a little better by the time I was done. It might suck that I was a slave or ‘servant’ here, but at least I had my own shower with decent water pressure. Couldn’t knock the perks. I wondered if I could convince Rook to find some different shampoos and bodywashes though. I wasn’t entirely sure these hadn’t belonged to my predecessor, and the thought of smelling like the dead woman made me uncomfortable.
I forced the thought from my mind as I pulled open the wardrobe and, as usual, shoved aside half a dozen dresses to find a pair of pants and a shirt—both of which were miraculously my size. I didn't like to think about how Rook knew what size clothing I wore, or whether it was coincidence and these were the clothes left over from Rook’s servants past. Honestly I wasn't sure which freaked me out more. I buried that thought as well as I got dressed—I had enough things to stress about as it was, without worrying about things beyond my control. Which was more or less everything. Except for Rook’s breakfast, though that was debatable. I wasn't completely sure, but I thought my cooking skills might actually be getting worse.
I cracked open my door, and checked both ways in the hallway, but there was no sign of him. I didn't hear him moving about anywhere else in the castle as I made my way to the kitchen, either. Small mercies. He was probably still tucked up in bed, lucky bastard. I never used to be much of a morning person before I came here, but I'd learned pretty quickly that a hungry Rook was a cranky Rook, and apparently even my food was better than none.
The kitchen was, of course, deserted. I was the only one who came here, unless Rook was hovering around giving me a hard time, which he did just often enough to keep me constantly on edge, and to make me wonder whether hundreds of years of existence had left him really,reallybored. Because my cooking was a disaster, but it wasn’t, by any stretch of the imagination, an entertaining disaster.
I rooted through his cold room, gathering up a dozen ingredients with no real clue how I intended to combine them. Breakfast was the easiest meal of the day, but that didn’t mean it was easy. Back at the pack, my food had always been simple. We all ate that way. The pack provided meals for those who had didn’t have the time, skill, or means to make their own, and that included me. Pack provided food was basic, consisting mainly of broths and stews, but filling and nutritious, and a whole lot more edible than what I’d managed to produce in Rook’s ridiculously elaborate kitchen. It had taken me days just to get to grips with how everything worked, and I still wasn’t completely sure about all of it. And even if I’d known how to make the kind of meals I’d eaten in the pack, something told me Rook wouldn’t be happy if I served him broth or stew. For one thing, the ingredients here werefartoo complex for that. I ignored most of them.
Grabbing a pan, I put it over the hob and chucked a few eggs in, giving them a stir. I’d had scrambled eggs a few times at the pack, before the big reveal about my lack of a wolf, and it didn’t seem like it could be too complicated. Mine never came out tasting quite like I remembered, though.
Sausages burned every time I put them in a pan, so I started up the grill in the hopes cooking them from above would be more effective than cooking them from below. The next pan I chucked some bacon in, then cursed and pulled it off the flameagain. Bacon cooked fast. Obviously. It was so thinly sliced I wasn’t even sure what the point of it was, but it smelled good. Except when I burned it and then left it to go cold while everything else cooked—which had been basically every day so far. But not today. I grinned triumphantly as I set it aside, almost wishing Rook was here to notice. See? I could learn.
He'd said something about mushrooms yesterday, and I wasn’t really sure why since I was absolutely certain they belonged in a stew, not on a breakfast plate, but who was I to second guess the dragon? If he wanted mushrooms, then I’d cook mushrooms. I grabbed a large handful out of the cold room, stared at them for a moment, then shrugged and tossed them straight into another pan. Good thing there were so many rings in this kitchen.
Twenty minutes later, I assembled all the food onto two plates—leaving the mushrooms off mine and hoping Rook wouldn’t care. They smelled awful. The eggs had reduced to a shriveled pile—probably shouldn’t have cooked those for fifteen minutes. But the sausages had only burned slightly before I realized I ought to turn them, and the bacon was both hot and crisp. On the whole, I was pretty proud. It might not be gourmet, but I was willing to bet that at least half of the stuff on these plates was edible, and I was looking forward to Rook eating my food—and then his words.
So take that, Rook.
I grabbed the plates and used my hip to open the kitchen door, sashaying—okay, sauntering—along the winding corridor to the dining hall. The grin refused to leave my face as I slipped through the dining room door, waiting to see the look on Rook’s face when he was forced to admit that I hadn’t completely screwed this up.
I shot a look over at the table, and my step faltered. No Rook. That was…well, unusual. He was always in here at this time, and pretty damn pissy if I wasn’t. It didn’t take long to learn the routine when the one enforcing it was the cranky ass dragon who’d been the boogeyman of my childhood.
So it was weird that he wasn’t here. Maybe he was running late. My grin returned as I pictured him hopping around on one leg in his haste to get changed after realizing he’d slept in. He was probably cursing right now, pulling a shirt on over those ridiculous abs—
Right. Not going there.
I set the plates down in the usual place—his at the head of the table, mine halfway along it, a seat I’d chosen on my first day because it was closest to the door, and I hadn’t been certain he wasn’t about to incinerate me…especially after he tasted the food.
The table was already laid—one of my many tasks to be completed before I went to bed, I think mostly because Rook thought I’d make even more of a mess of the food than usual if I was running around fussing over the table arrangements. It was like the guy had never heard of multitasking. I glanced up at the clock on the wall. Definitely past the time he’d normally be down here. The trouble with having already laid out the table last night was that there was literally nothing for me to do, aside from checking the clock every thirty seconds.
Ten minutes crawled past, the food rapidly cooling, and the eggs congealing. Ten more minutes, and the appealing scent of the bacon was a thing of the past. I could see the fat congealing on its surface and wrinkled my nose. It didn’t look nearly so tempting as it had twenty minutes ago.
By the time Rook was forty minutes late, I was forced to face the truth I’d been avoiding: Rook wasn’t coming to breakfast. I tried to ignore the hot rejection lancing through my stomach as I cleared away the untouched plates. It wasn’t like it was a big deal, anyway. It was just food. It wasn’t like I actually wanted his opinion on it. That would be dumb. I was only doing this because he wasforcingme to. That was all.
I dumped the plates in the kitchen and tossed the food. I’d lost my appetite.
As a sour mood settled over me, I decided to go and see what was so important that Lord Asshole didn’t feel like coming to breakfast. You know, the one I’d hauled my tired ass out of bed early to make for him. He could explain to my face why he hadn’t done me the courtesy of coming down to let me know he wasn’t eating. Unless…did dragons get sick? Maybe he really was still in bed, and not that I’d feel sorry for him, what with the whole forcing me to be here thing, but I could at least see if he needed some water. Be the bigger shifter. That kind of thing. And if I happened to be walking a little faster than usual on my way to his bedroom, well, that was just because I wanted to get this over with so I could go about my day.
The door was shut, and I hesitated a moment—maybe he didn’t want to be disturbed?—before rapping on it. If he hadn’t wanted to be disturbed, he should have told me he was skipping breakfast—preferablybeforeI put all that effort into cooking it. But I was pretty sure that wasn’t it. He’d never skipped breakfast before, never skipped any meal before, and—
I wasn’t worried. Obviously I wasn’t worried. He was an asshole. And probably immortal or some dumb shit.
And, apparently, not answering the door. Did dragons get the flu?
