Page 73 of Drawn Together

He began trailing his fingers softly up and down my arm; still, I didn’t respond. Why did he contradict himself? Why, if he would just torture himself over it later?

He lowered his other hand to my waist and slowly began to untie my robe.

I closed my eyes. I should’ve stopped him. I didn’t want to go through that again—experiencing so many intense emotions only to be met with total indifference afterward. This game between us was beginning to feel exhausting.

“I want to kill anyone who tries to hurt you, Marfil,” he said, sliding his hand around my waist, allowing himself to indulge if only for an instant, before gripping the white silk of my nightgown in frustration. “I want to do it, and knowing that I can’t is killing me,” he whispered, burying his mouth in my neck and speaking into my ear. He seemed frightened and desperate, as if part of him was struggling to repress the words that came out of his mouth.

I opened my eyes, my gaze fixed on the kitchen door as he pulled me to his chest, wrapping his good arm around me. I stood there stiffly for an instant, and then relaxed into his comforting embrace.

Had he changed his mind? Had the accident shifted the way he saw things between us?

He withdrew a few seconds later, as if reading my thoughts. “Let me make you breakfast,” he said before I could say anything else.

I sat at the counter and watched as he heated milk, added the honey, and handed me the mug before getting started on the pancakes.

“Where did you learn to cook?” I asked, trying to use conversation as a distraction. I still couldn’t believe he had hugged me like that. It gave me hope, but I didn’t want to make too much of it. Sebastian had shown me that he could get caught up in the heat of the moment and then later act like nothing had ever happened.

“Well… I didn’t have much of a choice,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“I don’t understand,” I said, stirring my milk.

“I grew up in foster homes… They didn’t usually take great care of the kids, so cooking was one way I could help out the younger ones. I just so happened to discover that it relaxed me.”

Growing up without any type of family must’ve been hard. I could understand because, although I had a father and a lovely home, I had often felt very alone.

“The most cooking I ever did was when I snuck into the boarding school kitchen and tried to make a fried egg in the middle of the night… I started a grease fire and was suspended for three days. My father refused to let me come home because he was busy, so I had to stay locked in my dorm room the whole time.”

Sebastian placed a plate of blueberry pancakes in front of me, propped his elbows on the counter, and observed me, perplexed. “I just can’t picture you in a boarding school with nuns.”

I smiled. “At least one sister left the school because of me, saying that God had placed me in her path as a test, and she wasn’t up to the challenge.”

Sebastian grinned. “Were you that bad?” he asked, immediately raising a hand before I could respond. “Never mind, don’t answer that.”

I smirked in return as I popped a bite of pancake in my mouth.

“And you… how did you end up in the military?”

Sebastian stole a bite of my pancake and looked pensive as he chewed. “When you turn eighteen, the state stops taking care of you. They put me out on the street. I went through a rough time.” I raised my eyebrows questioningly, but he stopped me once again before I could say anything. “That’s all in the past now, Marfil. The military was the only thing that interested me, and I didn’t have to pay them to take me.”

I nodded, glad to be receiving information about him, although something told me he wasn’t telling me everything. He observed me as I ate in silence, but I didn’t feel uncomfortable or intimidated by his presence. Instead, a blush crept up my cheeks as I remembered the feel of his mouth on mine, his hands against my bare skin, my fingers getting lost in his hair.

“Are you going to tell me about your nightmare now?” he asked when I finished my last pancake.

I looked up from my plate and fixed my eyes on him. “Nothing out of the ordinary,” I said calmly. “Everyone dies, and all I can do is sit there and watch as it happens.”

Another moment of silence fell over the kitchen, and I stood up, suddenly needing to get out of there.

“I think I’d better go shower,” I said.

“Me too.” Sebastian nodded, then walked around the counter and followed me into the living room.

Our eyes met for an instant, and I felt an abyss open up between us once again.

I’d expected to feel better after a hot shower, but I didn’t. Not even when my sister came into my room, excited to open the boxes and help me get dressed. She had always wanted our father to take her with him to the Fair Grounds Race Course & Slots in New Orleans. I had only been there on one occasion, as a rider in an obstacle race organized to raise funds for ST, and still, my dad wouldn’t let me stay for the party afterward, which was another reason why I was so surprised by his invitation to join him now.

Gabriella opened the first box and removed a pretty white dress that hit just above the knee and wrapped across my body to tie at one side of my waist, fortunately hiding my tattoo. It was simple, but it was a Valentino, and I knew it had cost a fortune. In the other two boxes were Louboutins with a higher heel than I was used to wearing, and a large navy blue sun hat, with a satin ribbon that matched the dress.

I looked at the clothes unenthusiastically… I didn’t feel like getting all dressed up, not with how battered my face looked, and definitely not while my head still ached. However, knowing I had no choice but to obey, I sat down at the dressing table and let my sister do my hair. We’d always liked to play beauty parlor, and she was much better at it than me.