She's Just Food

Bloodberry Pancakes

Logan-POV

I struggled with the last button on my shirt, feeling it slip out of my pruned fingers as our chamber door shut behind me. It had taken me forever to clean Chomper’s mess; over an hour to change the linen and scrub the floor, like I was the mutt’s personal maid. I glanced over my shoulder, double-checking that the lock had clicked just in case that little fucker tried to sneak in again.

I finally fastened the bottom button and tucked the hem of my shirt into my pants, smoothing out the wrinkles. I wanted to look my absolute best for my birthday guest.

With renewed vigor, I hastened my pace toward the kitchen, practicing my facial expressions along the way. Dortha was a hard nut to crack. At nearly five hundred years old, she tolerated little nonsense, and that included my jovial antics.

As I stepped into the dimly lit kitchen, I found Dortha stirring a cauldron of what appeared to be… well; I wasn’t sure what it was, but it certainly didn’t smell appetizing. With a grunt and a snort, I cleared my throat and my nostrils, readying myself for my performance.

“Dortha, my dear, it’s so nice of you to join me!” I announced, my voice filled with enthusiasm.

Dortha’s eyes shot open, her gaze fixating on me with a mixture of shock and irritation. “Join you? Logan, what in the seven Hells is going on? You wake me up, blabbering on about cooking for an important guest, and then you disappear for over an hour,” she scolded, her voice gravelly with age and annoyance. “Do you realize what time it is?”

“Time has no meaning, my dear, but I do deeply apologize for making you wait. Lindsay’s mutt made a mess that required immediate cleaning, and it took longer than expected.”

“Why are you cleaning up after Chomper?”

I chuckled nervously, trying to avoid the explanation, and blurted the first thing that came to mind. “I couldn’t find a maid.”

Dortha’s eyebrows shot up so high they nearly disappeared into her silver hairline before her eyes narrowed at me dangerously. “You’re so full of s**t, boy, your eyes should be brown. Think up a better lie. Or, better yet; just tell me what the hell you want!”

Undeterred by her grumpy wit, I pressed on, eager to win her over. “I want the best cook in the coven to whip up a showpiece dish for our new guest, and I want to be of help!” I exclaimed, dashing around the cauldron to snatch an apron off the far wall. “You can teach me how to cook and show off your culinary skills after all these years. It’ll be fun!”

“Fun? FUN?” she repeated, each syllable dripping a little more with sarcasm. “What would you suggest we whip up, boy?” Now I understood her change in demeanor; she’d been goading me, knowing I knew nothing about cooking. “What’s wrong? No knowledge got your tongue?”

“Bloodberry pancakes! Or garlic infused sausages…well, maybe not garlic infused...” I suggested, blurting my thoughts once again.

Dortha’s lips curled into a sneer. “Bloodberry pancakes and garlic infused sausages? Have you lost your little brain, boy?” she scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “Are we intending to kill our guest with this meal?”

I winced at her response, but I refused to give up. I wanted to do this for the girl. I wanted to present her with a hot meal and hopefully convince her to stay. “No! We aren’t trying to kill her! Come on Dortha, help me? Please?” I pleaded, giving her my best puppy-dog eyes.

She regarded me with a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Her, huh? Okay, fine, I’ll play along with your little game,” she relented, rolling her eyes dramatically. “But don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

As Dortha begrudgingly started gathering ingredients, I couldn’t help but beam with excitement. This was going to be one for the history books! With exaggerated steps, I joined her at the stove, raring to lend a hand. “What can I do to assist, oh wise chef?” I asked, flashing her a grin.

“You can start by staying out of my way and not burning down the damn kitchen,” she retorted, her tone laced with a thin threat as she shot me a withering glare.

I ignored her negativity and reached for a mixing bowl, determined to prove my worth. “How about I whisk some eggs? Or chop some vegetables?” I offered.

“Gods, help me,” she mumbled. “Yes, boy; whisk the eggs and chop the onions while I cook the steak.”

Determined to make this meal a success, I followed every instruction, and with each passing minute, the kitchen filled with the delicious aroma of sizzling steak. I smiled and couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride; I was providing for her.

Finally, as Dortha placed the completed dish on the table, she let out an unexpected burst of laughter. It startled me; the sound echoing through the kitchen like tinkling bells, and I was shocked that the sound actually rang from Dortha’s lips. “I can’t believe I just did that,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “But I have to admit, it felt good to indulge in a bit of madness with you.”

I grinned triumphantly, feeling a sense of accomplishment wash over me. “See, Lady Dortha? I told you it would be fun!” I exclaimed, unable to contain my excitement.

Dortha shot me a mock glare before pushing the plate towards me. “Don’t get too excited, boy,” she warned. “This doesn’t mean I’ll be cooking for this guest of yours every day.”

“Deal,” I agreed, feeling grateful for her willingness to play along.

“Which kingdom is she from, anyway? Moonlight or Samar? Is she a witch or a wolf?” She inquired teasingly.

“Human!” Lindsay shouted, bouncing into the kitchen. “Logan likes a human girl from the village; can you believe it Dortha?”

If looks could kill, my sister would have dropped dead on the spot. I stared at her like she was horse dung on the bottom of my shoe, grinding my molars as I waited for the backlash.

“HUMAN? A HUMAN? I JUST COOKED ALL THAT FOR A f*****g HUMAN, LOGAN!?” Dortha thundered, her words reaching an octave that could’ve busted eardrums.

“Yes,” I replied, never taking my eyes off my sister. “She’s special.”

“I don’t give a flying bat’s ass how special she is. I don’t serve humans, boy!” Dortha declared.

“Why are you here, Lindsay? I told you not to leave her side until she woke up.” I seethed, not bothering to hide my growing rage.

“She is awake!” she retorted. “She’s bathing in the pools.”

For a moment, I forgot she was my twin. All I saw was red as I wrapped my hand around her throat, and her blue eyes bulged as she clawed helplessly at my hand. “You left her in the f*****g pools, Lindsay? Unattended? I f*****g trusted you!” I bellowed, shoving her away.

Dortha stepped back as I spun towards the table, my aura whipping around like a hurricane. I stared at her wrinkled face for a moment, before dipping my chin. “Thank you. For this,” I said, picking up the warm plate.

She returned the gesture, but never spoke as I turned towards the door. I had a one-tracked mind, and I was on a one-way mission—finally, I was going to meet my precious present.

“Logan…,” Lindsay called, her voice hoarse from my grip. I didn’t even spare her a glance. I stalked across the kitchen and out the door as she continued to call my name.

As I jogged down the hall, balancing the plate, nerves wracked my insides. If my heart could beat, it would’ve been pounding as though I was running a marathon.

I slowed my steps as I approached the pools, creeping down the white hallway like a predator stalking its prey. She had been my intended prey originally, but now? Now, I’d make her so much more if she’d let me.

I took feather-like steps as I neared the doorway, closing my eyes as I stopped to steady myself before I peeked through. Would she freak out if she caught me watching her? Or would she invite me in? My c**k jumped, stirring awake at just the thought of our upcoming voyeurism.

As I stood stiff, I slowly inched my head around the doorframe and, for a moment, it felt like a replay of my birthday from two-hundred years ago. It felt like I was dying all over again.

She wasn’t in the pool.

I panicked. My brain raced with thoughts, creating a spiral, and just before they all spun out of control, a shadow caught my eye and my sight honed in on the movement.

With a graceful fluidity, she glided beneath the rippling surface, her silhouette twisting and diving under the water. The woman turn dolphin, oblivious to my presence, danced beneath the depths like she belonged there.

Maybe she was a mermaid.

The sound of the surface breaking broke my daydream, and her moist ivory skin glistened in the candlelight as she emerged. Beads of water cascaded down her exposed shoulders and her once wild auburn hair now formed a perfect V down the middle of her back.

I watched as each movement she made sent ripples across the water; a display that held me captivated, and “please turn around” rang in my head like a sadistic mantra.

Instead, the strands of her auburn hair floated on top of the water as she dipped lower, and they were a darker hue than earlier now that they were soaked. I struggled to restrain the primal urges stirring within me, an overwhelming longing to join her and embrace her beneath the water.

My senses heightened, and my c**k hardened as every fiber of my dead being yearned to feel her skin against mine. I wanted to—no, needed—to drown myself completely in her intoxicating scent and f**k her until she was hoarse from screaming my name.

But I remained rooted in place, torn between the allure of my fantasies and the need to keep my distance—I knew how I was. To approach her now would be wrong; It would shatter her tranquil moment, and then she would never trust me.

And so, I took one last look before declaring myself a silent guardian. To remain cloaked by the wall, protecting her as she bathed in peace. I raised my foot to step away and the icy voice of an angel froze me in my tracks.

“Do you watch all the women here bathe? Or is it just the ones you kidnap?