Page 32 of Dark Christmas
My thoughts turn to Claire and the bakery. I can’t just disappear and leave her to run everything by herself. She’s seven months pregnant and the holidays are rapidly approaching. I will not abandon her or our dream.
Out of nowhere, fatigue slams into me. I barely make it back to the bed and collapse onto it, too tired to even pull the covers up.
Just like that, sleep takes over.
I wake up feeling like no time has passed.
One second, I’m out cold, and the next, my eyes are wide open, the dim morning light filtering in through the tinted windows. It’s quiet, calm, almost cave-like. I check my phone. It’s nearly 9 a.m., and my stomach growls like it hasn’t been fed in days. I’m starving.
I drag myself out of bed, smoothing down the oversized shirt I slept in, and make my way downstairs. The smell of food cooking hits me before I even reach the kitchen, and it’s heavenly. Bacon, eggs, sausage—the works. My mouth is watering.
Melor’s standing at the stove, cooking like it’s just another Sunday morning, wearing a simple gray t-shirt that hugs his chest and arms, and dark jeans that grip his perfect ass.
He glances over his shoulder as I step into the kitchen. That crooked smile of his makes an appearance, and I feel it right in my chest.
“Morning,” he says, his voice chipper like we didn’t just go through hell a few hours ago.
I blink, momentarily thrown off by how normal this feels, standing here in his house, my stomach rumbling, while the most dangerous man I’ve ever met cooks me breakfast.
I slide into one of the bar chairs, still feeling like I’m in some kind of dream.
“How are you feeling?” he asks as he places a steaming mug of coffee in front of me.
I say nothing at first, my eyes drifting to the spot where the body had been last night. The floor’s spotless, like it never even happened. No blood, no evidence of the horror of just a few hours ago. But I can still feel the weird energy buzzing through the room, reminding me that something dark went down right here.
I sniff, picking up the faint scent of cleaner beneath the mouthwatering smell of bacon and eggs. My stomach churns, caught between hunger and nausea.
Melor catches me looking and walks over, blocking my view with his body. He takes my hand in his, squeezing it gently, and then, without a word, he lifts it to his lips and kisses the back of it.
“You’re safe,” he promises.
I stare at him, relishing the warmth of his touch, but I’m not sure I can believe him, not after what I’ve seen.
“It’s so surreal. There was a dead guy here and now we’re preparing to have breakfast.”
He nods in understanding. “It’s a shock to the system the first time you see something like that.”
Melor squeezes my hand one more time as he gives me that intense look of his before heading back to the stove to finish up breakfast. He sets it in front of me—crispy bacon, perfectly cooked eggs, sausage, and a slice of toast.
He smirks. “Not exactly the fancy baked goods you’re used to, but I like to keep things protein heavy.”
I snicker, grabbing a fork. “Yeah, not all of us are out here building muscle 24/7, Captain Gains.”
He chuckles, and I dig in, realizing I’m way hungrier than I thought. The food tastes as good as it smells, and I devour it like I haven’t eaten in days.
As I shovel in another bite, Melor leans against the counter, arms crossed. “You know,” he says casually, “you’re welcome to sleep in my bed. You don’t have to use the guest room if you don’t want to.”
I pause mid-chew, then swallow slowly, glancing up at him. The way he says it isn’t pushy, but there’s definitely a vibe there. I take a breath, wiping my mouth.
“Thanks, but, uh... I think I’ll stick to the guest room for now.”
He doesn’t argue. “That’s fine, though I hope you’ll change your mind in the next few days. In fact, I’m going to be doing my best to make sure that happens.”
I can’t help but smile a little. “We’ll see,” I reply, amused by how sweet that sounded coming from a guy like him.
I shift in my seat, loving the way Melor is all insistent but still respectful of my boundaries. It’s a delicate balance, and I’ve got to admit, he’s nailing it.
He glances over at me. “Did you sleep well?”