Chapter 14
Leera’s POV
Staring at the saucepan, I wasn’t sure how I should exactly hold it.
Right now Blake was making me cook breakfast for him, or more specifically an omelette. I had two eggs in front of me, a spatula, a cook book and some spices. Reading the recipe for the 5th time, I was still really confused. Was it adding butter to the pan, or to the eggs? All it said was to add butter.
“Need some help there?” Blake asked with a hint of amusement laced through his voice. Shaking my head, my pride wouldn’t let me have Blake help me, after all, how hard was cooking an egg? Following the instructions, I tuned the heat onto 200 degrees, and waited for it to heat up. Hearing the pan start to sizzle, I frowned at how hot the heat the pan was radiating. Was it supposed to be that hot?
Blake didn’t seem to be affected, as he was reading the news on his tablet. When I woke up this morning, my bed seemed warm on the opposite side of where I was sleeping, and I could smell Blake’s scent. I didn’t bring it up when he entered my room to get me out of bed. I let him sleep in ‘our’ room, while I slept in a guest room a couple doors down, much to Blake’s displeasure.
The next instructions were to crack an egg, and pour it into the pan. So I did what it said; only when I was cracking it over the pan, I cracked the shell into millions of pieces by accident and it all fell onto the middle of the pan in a gloopy mess. I’m sure Blake wouldn’t mind a little bit of shell, right? Taking a deep breath, I stirred the egg and shell with the spatula, but for some reason it started to stick to the pan and half of it was turning black. So I put the other egg in it.
I managed to salvage half of the eggs shell this time, and again I stirred the egg, trying to make it into a pancake shape thingy. Looking over to my right, I saw the spices siting there, since the omelette was turning black I thought I should add something to make it taste better. Grabbing the pepper I quickly sprinkled a tablespoon full of the brown-black stuff into the egg, and started to stir again.
Okay, this was really confusing, looking back and forth between the picture on the recipe and my omelette, they looked nothing alike. I had put the ‘omelette’ onto a plate for Blake, and I was comparing it with the picture. The picture one looked perfect and a golden yellow with a lovely circle shape, whereas mine looked black and a pale yellow with huge brown chunks here and there, there was even a couple raw orange bits, and of course bits of the shell I accidentally dropped in. Not to mention it looked more like an ancient pyramid than a flat circle.
Taking a deep breath, I brought the plate to Blake, and placed it in front of him. When he didn’t look up from his tablet, I let out an annoyed cough, and watched as a grin formed across his mouth.
Until he saw my omelette.
He stared at it blankly for a few seconds, before his eyes met mine with a caution and horror.
“Uhh… Is that… Is that your omelette?” he chocked, a frightened expression taking over his face.
“Yes… what else would it be?” I asked slowly, what was he implying?
“Well, no problem, it’s just… it looks like shit- and the stoves on fire” he hastily uttered at the end when he saw my narrowed gaze. Then I smelt it; smoke. Spinning around I quickly grabbed the fire extinguisher from the cabinet Blake showed me, and I sprayed it on the burning pan. I guess I forgot to switch it off…
“You forgot to turn the stove off” he blatantly told me. No shit Sherlock, pans don’t catch fire from nothing.
“Did you figure that one out yourself bud?” rolling his eyes at me he ignored that comment. Seeming relatively calm for almost witnessing his kitchen burn up in flames, he stood up and walked towards the stove cautiously.
“200 degrees Celsius!” he yelled, and whipped his head around to look at me and an accusing glare radiated from his gaze.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong with that?” he repeated, laughing humourlessly. “What’s wrong with that is that it’s meant to be in Fahrenheit, not Celsius. This stove is set for Celsius!”
“Don’t blame this on me! I warned you about my non-existent cooking skills, it’s not my fault you didn’t mention that the stove is set for Celsius” I growled, crossing my arms under my chest. No wonder the eggs started burning straight away, I was meant to convert it.
“Well if you hadn’t been so immature and careless, maybe you would’ve noticed! Can’t you read a fucking recipe!” he yelled in frustration. Why was he getting so worked up about the temperature of a stove? I warned him I couldn’t cook!
“Excuse me?! Immature and careless! I read the recipe 6 times over, don’t go around assuming things. It’s you at fault as well! How come you’re getting so angry over a stove?!” I gritted through my teeth. Remaining calm was getting hard here!
“Sorry for worrying about your safety. A person tends to do that when bad stuff happens in their life!” his voice cracked slightly in the end, but he cleared his throat, fixing that.
“Like what? What could be so bad that makes you spaz out like this?!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in the air.
“You probably wouldn’t understand; after all, you’re Miss Perfect. Nothing bad happens to you” he chuckled, but a hard edge was replacing the humour. I cringed on the inside, hurt. He has no idea... Clearing my throat, I masked all hurt expressions on my face, and let the anger take over.
“How would you know, huh?! What could be so horrible?!” I yelled back, giving up being calm.
“You want to know so badly? Well how about having your parents murdered by rouges!” he growled, his shoulders heaving up and down as if he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs, “just before your coronation for the title of Alpha!”
“Well how about being abandoned by your own parents at birth?!” I shot back; a surprised look came over his face, before anger replaced it again.
“At least you never met them to know the pain of losing them!” he argued, but I could see the doubt in his eyes at his own comment. It made me even angrier, till I felt my wolf surfacing.
“At least you weren’t kidnapped and raped!” I screamed in rage, a torn and horrified look flashed across his eyes, and in mere seconds I saw all his anger dissipate. Gulping, I just realised I had dug a grave for myself.
“What…” he whispered, regret and a different type of anger washed over him like a tidal wave. I knew I was visibly shaking, but the memories kept creeping forward from the back of my mind- trying to haunt me. I shook my head, and took a few retreating steps towards the door.
“No.” he growled, his voice going a couple octaves lower. “Tell me what happened”
‘Tell him’ my wolf urged, but I could still feel her pain. I didn’t want him to ever know, especially that the nightmares’ have been coming back since two years ago. At least he didn’t connect the dots when he saw the effect the dreams had on me.
“It doesn’t matter, well, anymore” I insisted, hoping he would get the point. That didn’t seem to be that case.
“Dammit Lee, tell me what happened. I want to help you” he said softly, almost as if he was talking to a baby. That of course angered me, I hated when people did that to me.
“I won’t fall to pieces if you say something wrong, you know, I’m not a child.” I said blankly, he stood still for a moment.
That was my chance.
I sprinted out of the room, and around the massive hallways, making sure there was a big gap between us. Seconds after I ran, I heard his big form bounding towards me at the same speed, if not, faster.
“Lee, stop running! I know this house better than you, I’ll catch you eventually!” Not if I hide, I thought. I would rather delay it if it meant he would know later, after all, he probably wouldn’t believe me.
Skidding across the wooden floor, I was about to turn a corner when I flat arms wrap around my waist, and haul me back towards a muscled chest. Feeling his chest on my back, it made me feel safe, and at home- which I didn’t want.
“No, no! Let go of me Blake! I swear to god-”
“Never” he promised confusing me, what was he- “I’m not ever letting you go, you know that” he surprised me. I never heard him talk like he wanted me, where had this suddenly come from?
“What are going on about Blake?”
“Who is the motherfucker?” he demanded, acting as though he never said any of those things a couple seconds ago.
“Okay, what the hell are you-”
“Who is the motherfucker who raped you?” he said slowly, as if I was too thick to process words spoken quickly. I scowled at him, I wasn’t thick. When I didn’t answer, I saw his anger ten-fold, and a murderous growl came from his mouth.
“Tell me!” he yelled, flipping me around to face him. I froze at his words; they were triggering a memory.
“Sorry” he quickly amended when he saw my expression, “just please tell me, I only want to help you” That was a first for me.
“You want to help me?”
“Of course I do, why wouldn’t I? I lo-” but he stopped when he realised what he was about to say. “I’d love to help you” he cleared his throat awkwardly, not meeting my gaze. Shrugging my shoulders, I realised I probably should tell him. Noticing a cream leather sofa behind Blake, I pushed him towards it, and sat down next to him.
Looking at me curiously, I knew he was waiting for me to break the silence.
“You’re the first” I started, waiting for him to continue.
“What?”
“You’re the first to believe me, or even ask who the guy is” I said seriously, everyone else thought I was a stupid girl who didn’t know the meaning of rape. I was fourteen for crying out loud!
“You’re joking… right?” when he saw me shake my head, a growl burst through his mouth, but I continued.
“I was fourteen when it happened, it was nearing the end of May; I was walking to the girls home from detention- I knew I was going to get shit for being late because it was my turn to wash up.” He nodded his head as if to say ‘keep going’. “And as cliché as this sounds, a black SUV with tinted windows was following me from behind. Of course, being the naïve girl I was then, I thought that there was another reason why it was slowly trailing behind me”.
“When I was a street away from the girls home, it started to pick up its pace, and drove beside me, and I freaked out slightly, and increased my pace. What I didn’t expect was for it to speed up along further in front of me and completely stop. I was going to cross the road, when a man in black sweat pants and a grey baggy t-shirt ran out from the driver’s seat, and jogged towards me.” I looked over at him to see his reaction; he looked confused and angry, incredibly angry.
“He grabbed me, and muffled my screams with a rag that had Chloroform in it, it didn’t have a huge dosage, but enough to make me limp and unconsious in under a minute. When I woke up, I had the biggest migrane of my life, I also had a dry throat, and as it turns out, I was chained to a bed.” When I said the last part, Blake growled again, this time it was louder and if possible; angrier.
“After that he… He, well he, you know, but the most sickening part was that he a had a mate, and a six year old daughter. They were completely innocent, and were forced to be his slaves. His daughter was adorable” I chuckled at the end, remembering her bouncy blonde curls and green eyes- just like her mum. “The only reason why she didn’t leave him was because he had already forcefully mated with her, and obviously then it would be impossible to leave him after that”. Blake nodded in understanding.
“I spent two weeks in there and in the middle of the second week-” I gulped, and my eyes started to water. “he murdered them in a fit of drunken rage. It was disgusting, I heard and saw the whole thing, he left the bedroom door open, my wrists and ankles were cut to the bone from my struggling to help them. I wished that he had taken his anger out on me, not them, they didn’t deserve it.” I closed my eyes as the seen unfolded from the back of my mind. He had abused them to death, the mother was first and then the little girl.
“He kept them in their own home as prisoners, and ended up killing his own mate and daughter. I swear I have never hated anybody so much in my life” I admitted, looking up to meet his gaze. For the first time, he leant forward, and drew me into a hug.
“What’s his name?” he asked, his voice low and gruff.
“Jackson Demir” he pulled me closer, and rested his chin on top of my head, I didn’t bother to tell him to get off. I didn’t have the strength.
“Although you probably don’t know him, he kept under the radar for most of his life, but he does have a fake name” I told him, he perked up at that.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Alex, Alex Simmons”
DeathxDemon