Page 16 of The Dragons’ Eternal Mate

“You need to rest and eat. Ma is stable, you can take a few hours.”

I shook my head. The idea of doing anything for myself instead of looking after my patients felt wrong, especially in this case. Ma had been attacked because of me. Fucking Cyrus had gone after Celia—because I ran. Ma deserved everything I could give her, even if that left me a bit haggard.

“She needs me. I can’t leave her. I’ll just grab something to eat at the clinic. I’ve got some protein bars stashed in here,” I argued, doing my best to reassure Bastian as we crossed the lawn and entered through the back door into the kitchen.

“No. Sit,” he ordered as he shuffled me toward one of the small tables.

I collapsed into the chair, glaring at him, but he didn’t seem even slightly fazed as he went over to the kitchen cabinets and opened them, pulling down a plate and then a small can, which I guessed was some sort of condensed soup.

The large family kitchen, usually a bustling hub of activity, was oddly quiet without Ma.

“Who’s dealing with meals while Ma…?” I asked, looking around at the desolate space.

“Most dragons are fending for themselves. All the cabins have their own kitchen, and people regularly cook. We’ve just always liked hosting meals here to keep everyone together. Without Ma, though, that’s falling to the wayside.”

My stomach clenched, and I really did not have any appetite. “I can see that.”

“I’m nowhere near as good a cook as her, but I can make grilled cheese and tomato soup.” As Bastian spoke, he pulled out a loaf of bread and a pan and got to work.

He grabbed butter and cheese from the fridge, then pulled out a small pot to get the soup heating on the stove. It was such a silly, simple thing, but I’d never seen Bastian attempt to cook, or spend much time in the kitchen at all. He’d been avoiding me pretty avidly for so long, but now he was here, cooking for me.

It was sweet, despite the guilt I still felt.

“What if I don’t like grilled cheese?” I snarked, narrowing my eyes at Bastian, but there was no real fight in my voice. I was too exhausted, which I supposed was his point. Damn him for being so observant.

But I didn’t mean the thought in the slightest. I was just grumpy about actually needing to care for myself. It felt wildly inconvenient that I couldn’t just forgo sleep and food until after Ma got better. The ability to turn those things off would be fantastic, a little superpower I could use as a better healer. I’d never been very good at caring for myself; I was always last on my priority list.

Bastian turned to me, still holding the frying pan, brow raised. “Since you came here, I’ve watched you shove so many of these into your mouth that I wondered if you believed it to be a food group of its own.”

My cheeks heated, and I shot him a small smile back, leaning my elbows on the table. “Oh, yeah? You’ve been watching me?”

I couldn’t resist batting my lashes at him.

He chuckled and went back to work.

The kitchen fell into easy silence as I watched Bastian cook. He set the pan on the stove and put the pot next to it, cracking open the can of tomato soup and pouring it in. He used the can to add the necessary water and then turned the stove on low.

Next was the sandwich. I was utterly absorbed in watching him spread the butter on the bread, before flipping it butter-side down in the small cast-iron skillet. He put the slice of cheese on the bread, then reached for a bottle of an unknown spice and shook a bit on top. After buttering the other piece of bread, he put it on top of the sandwich and turned on the heat.

It was only a few more minutes before Bastian was plating my sandwich, cutting it diagonally, and pouring the soup into a mug.

“You know, I’ve always put my tomato soup in a mug like that.” I grinned at him as Bastian brought me the food and sat down next to me.

“I know.” He said it like it was nothing, and I cocked my head at him. “I’ve made these for you before.”

I let that one sit with me for a minute. I couldn’t remember him making them for me, but it pleased me that he remembered. “Thank you, Bastian. I really appreciate it. Then and now.”

“No problem,” he grinned, nudging the plate toward me. “Eat up.”

“You don’t need to babysit me. Surely you should be helping the others with horde stuff?” I asked, lifting the sandwich to my mouth.

He shook his head. “No. I’m exactly where I’m needed. If I’m honest, I want them to take the lead for a while, anyway.”

“How come?” I cocked my head to the side, taking a bite and moaning at how good it tasted. This was definitely not a protein bar.

Bastian chuckled but quickly sobered. “Well, this is their horde, too. I think, even when we became a clan, a small part of me still saw myself as the leader, as the next ‘rightful’ Alpha.”

He used air quotes around rightful, and I didn’t miss the way he glared at nothing in particular, thinking of his father, no doubt.