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I heard him scrape those vicious claws across the stone of the walls that he voluntarily imprisoned himself in, no doubt gouging great chunks out of the centuries-old stone that surrounded us.
“Will you not come out? Drink with me? Eat a meal with me?” My forehead rested on the door, my eyes closed. Despite the pain I felt for my brother and my need to help ease him, my thoughts were forever on her.
My mate. The female I had never met, never even seen.
She would forever be my priority, the only solace to calm me. She would always be at the forefront of my mind, and once I found her—if I ever found her—my sole goal would be to please her.
“Leave, brother, before I drag you down to this hell with me.”
I exhaled and moved back, seeing the tray of partly eaten food left from earlier today. At least he ate—albeit not enough. Not nearly enough. But that fact told me Luca wasn’t wholly lost.
There was hope, even if it was small.
Now, I just hoped we both didn’t go to the depths of darkness for good, because then there would be no one to pull us out.
5
Mikalina
I arrived at Mini’s house later that evening for dinner. Andrei had knocked on the door and escorted me over, the conversation he started during the short walk friendly.
I was thankful he was eating with us, simply because if not it would be one hell of a clusterfuck trying to communicate with Mini. Not that I wouldn’t try, but I didn’t want to frustrate her with the language barrier.
And as I sat on her flower-printed, ancient-looking couch, I felt her eyes stray to me repeatedly. I felt strange around the older woman—not in a bad way, but more like she could look into my eyes and know everything I was thinking.
I felt as if she knew a secret about me—a very important one—that I wasn't even aware of. Like she knew the outcome of my future.
It was unnerving, to say the least.
It was a strange feeling to be so open and bare in the figurative sense, despite not being able to communicate with someone personally.
Mini insisted I sit and wait for dinner after I offered my help. She looked so aghast at me helping her cook that I felt my eyes widen and saw Andrei smirk and shake his head.
“It’s not personal,” he said as he came to sit on the couch beside me. “It’s her way. And they are set in stone.”
I nodded, although I couldn’t say I understood. I’d never known anyone like that. “My grandmother goes to a country club every weekend,” I said with distaste. “She's about as loving as a snowball to your face.”
Andrei started laughing. “Things are much different here than your home.”
“You have no idea,” I murmured and looked around. Mini’s living room was small but cozy, with the colorful folk decorations that somehow made me feel comfortable and right at home. She had a small TV that sat atop a polished table, a large lace doily underneath. Andrei had turned it on, telling me his grandmother liked to listen to the shows even though she didn’t look at the screen.
The current show was what I’d call a soap opera, although I wasn’t sure if it was called the same thing here. The woman was dramatically crying, clutching the strand of pearls around her neck as she clearly begged for the very handsome man in front of her to stay. She’d reach out to him only to snatch her hand back and glare, then start up with the crying again.
Although I assumed she was distraught he was leaving, I couldn’t understand what was being said, so for all I knew, she could be cursing him out for having a small dick and not satisfying her in bed.
Mini started shouting from the small kitchen, and Andrei rose. “Dinner is ready. I hope you brought your appetite. My grandmother doesn’t get to cook like she used to, so she’s made a feast.”
I smiled and followed him into the dining area and felt my eyes widen at the spread on the table.
“Oh my,” I said low, my stomach growling at the sight and smells. Everything looked incredible and delicious. “She had to be cooking all day,” I added absently, embarrassed that it had come out of my mouth.
“Oh yes. She was very excited to prepare dinner.”
Mini gestured to the dishes and started rattling them off, which Andrei would then translate.
Sarmale—cabbage rolls. Mamaliga—polenta. Mici—grilled minced meat rolls, or something to that effect Andrei translated, as he wasn’t sure of the exact English translation. Cozonac—sweet bread. Papana?i, which looked like tiny donut holes with delicious cream and jam on top.
He went on to name five other dishes, more desserts, and I was so overwhelmed but incredibly hungry.
