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A pang of sadness shoots through me, and fondness for him follows closely on its heels. This isn’t good, though. I don’t want all this affection to be because of his abuse. I want to like him for who he is.
Coming back to the present, I instruct, “Now, pour the tomatoes into the pan, and watch the magic unfold.”
As he follows my instructions, the aroma of onions, mushrooms, and tomatoes fills the air, mingling with the earthy scent of our cozy surroundings… and a little bit of wet dog.
“Somebody needs a bath.” I twitch my nose in the dozing animal’s direction.
“You sound like my fellow splicers,” Sylas says.
When I tip my head in silent question, he says, “That’s a story for another day.”
“I have a feeling it’s going to be a good story.”
When his only answer is a cryptic shrug, I return to our cooking lesson.
The air between us crackles with unspoken promise as I change the mood, stand back, and talk him through his first pot of spaghetti.
Tater Tot, perched almost under the hooves of the male he now thinks of as his pack leader, is enjoying the symphony of smells. Although his tail is wagging with anticipation, I don’t think he’s going to be too happy when Sylas and I enjoy another vegetarian meal.
“No scraps for you, bro,” I warn him. His expressive eyebrows raise for a moment, then he wraps himself around Sylas’s hooves.
“Watch out for the tripping hazard,” I warn.
Observing the increasing bubbles, Sylas vibrates with childlike excitement. “What’s next, oh enlightened one?”
“The final gilding of the lily.” I reach for a jar of dried herbs. “We need to add some seasoning to elevate our dish.” I sprinkle a pinch of oregano, basil, and a dash of red pepper flakes, releasing another wave of intoxicating aromas.
He leans closer, inhaling deeply. “Cally, you have a way of making even the most mundane tasks seem tantalizing.”
A blush tinges my cheeks, and I quickly redirect my attention to the simmering sauce. “Well, we’re not done yet. We just need to let this simmer for a bit to allow the flavors to meld.”
The enticing aroma lingers, and I realize we’re barely an inch apart. I don’t think either of us is as entranced with the red sauce as we are with the electric chemistry arcing between us.
Our sexual tension is palpable. Sylas moves a little closer, his voice lowering to a husky whisper. “Cally, I didn’t feel fully alive until I met you.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sylas
“I’m expecting a concert,” Cally says as she rinses soapsuds off the final dish.
As I dry it, I focus all my attention on her, trying to detect if she’s really interested or just being nice. If Grizz hadn’t told me earlier today that all my friends liked my playing and were only teasing when they gave me a hard time, I would find a way to avoid playing for her. Now, I have more confidence, so I ask, “What type of music do you want to hear?”
“The kind you like to play.” She tips her head, a small smile gracing her lips, her hazel eyes reflecting only honesty.
The scientists and guards who raised me were always mind-fucking us, getting us to trust only to ultimately betray us. Trusting that Cally has no ulterior motives isn’t easy. But between her clean, lemon scent and the guileless look on her face, there’s no reason not to take what she says at face value.
Her luminous eyes suck me in, making it hard to look away. I want to please her, show her a glimpse of my soul through my music.
After grabbing my guitar from the corner, I adjust the strap over my shoulder, then sit on the stone hearth. She settles into the easy chair across from me, an open, expectant expression on her face. Taking a deep breath, I strum a few chords softly, tuning a few strings and testing the sound in the room.
“Alright then,” I say with a nervous chuckle. “Here goes nothing.”
The first notes drift into the air as I play one of my original compositions—a soft melody that captures both the melancholy and hope within me. My fingers move effortlessly across the strings, finding solace in their familiarity.
At first, I don’t have the nerve to look at her, but when I glance up at Cally, she leans back against the cushion, her rust-colored hair fringing her face on the side that isn’t shaved. Her gaze is fixed on me, an undeniable warmth radiating from her eyes.
I continue playing, losing myself in the music as it weaves its way through every fiber of my being. The rhythm flows through me while melodies dance and intertwine like lovers caught in an embrace.
