Dining With Her Captor.
1060 Words
Seraphina left Adolphus’s room with her towel draped over her arm, her bare feet padding softly on the wooden floor.
The oversized shorts she wore were a nuisance, slipping low on her hips with every step, forcing her to adjust them constantly. Each movement irritated her further.
The faint clinking of cutlery reached her ears as she stepped into the main hall, which doubled as a living and dining space.
Adolphus was seated at a modest table near the kitchen, his broad frame slouched slightly as he laid out a simple meal.
His movements were deliberate yet unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world to enjoy his existence.
“Come eat,” he said casually, his voice carrying a soft authority, almost as though he expected her compliance.
She halted, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t like bread,” she deadpanned, each word laced with deliberate indifference.
Adolphus didn’t look up right away, calmly continuing his task as though her sharp tone didn’t faze him. “We’ve got other food here,” he said, his voice smooth, unaffected.
He placed a cup on the table, his movements practiced and precise. “You might be surprised.”
She scoffed, taking a slow step forward, her lips curling into a bitter smile. “Like what? Cruelty? Heartlessness? No, thank you.”
Her words cut through the air like a knife, but Adolphus didn’t flinch. Instead, he lifted his head and finally looked at her.
And when his gaze landed on her, his expression changed.
His sharp eyes widened for a fleeting moment before narrowing slightly, his surprise quickly replaced with something unreadable.
He leaned back in his chair, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
Seraphina stood there, her chin lifted defiantly, though her heart skipped a beat under the weight of his gaze.
The oversized T-shirt she wore hung off one shoulder, revealing a sliver of her smooth, golden skin. The shorts—though far too large—clung stubbornly to her hips.
Adolphus’s eyes roamed her figure briefly, his wolfish intensity making her skin prickle.
But it wasn’t just the way he looked at her that unsettled her—it was the knowing glint in his gaze, as though he could see past the layers of her defiance, straight into the heart of her vulnerability.
“You look…” he started, his voice trailing off. His smirk deepened, his words dripping with a teasing edge. “…comfortable.”
Seraphina’s cheeks flushed despite herself. Comfortable? Comfortable?!
She hated how he made her feel exposed, as though every detail about her—every thought, every emotion—was laid bare before him.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she snapped, her voice sharper than she intended.
She took another step forward, adjusting the slipping shorts again, her movements tense. “These clothes are terrible, and so is your company.”
Adolphus chuckled softly, the sound low and infuriatingly rich. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “You wound me, Butterfly,” he said, his voice laced with mock hurt.
She froze, her jaw tightening at the nickname. Her pulse quickened, and she clenched her fists, refusing to let him see how much it affected her.
“Don’t call me that,” she said through gritted teeth, her voice low and dangerous.
He tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “Why not? It suits you.”
Her glare could have melted steel, but Adolphus didn’t seem to care. If anything, her anger seemed to amuse him further.
“Are you just going to stand there glaring at me, or are you going to eat something?” he asked, gesturing toward the table.
His tone was casual, but there was an undercurrent of command in his voice.
“I already told you,” she said, her voice cold, “I don’t want anything from you.”
He leaned back again, his expression unbothered. “Suit yourself,” he said, picking up a slice of bread. “But starving yourself won’t make me disappear.”
Her stomach growled at the worst possible moment, betraying her. She cursed inwardly, her face heating up as Adolphus raised a brow, his smirk widening.
“You sure about that?” he teased, taking a deliberate bite of the bread.
Seraphina turned on her heel, her irritation bubbling over.
She stalked toward the nearest window, refusing to entertain him any further. Her heart was still pounding, her thoughts a chaotic mess.
Why does he always have to look at me like that? Like he’s in control, like he knows exactly how to get under my skin?
She stared out at the courtyard, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.
He’s just a man—a werewolf, sure, but still just a man. A cocky, arrogant, infuriating man.
Behind her, she could hear him moving, the sound of his chair scraping against the floor. She didn’t turn around, didn’t dare look at him again.
“Let me know if you change your mind,” he called out, his tone annoyingly light.
Seraphina closed her eyes, willing herself to stay calm.
This is temporary, she reminded herself. I’ll survive this, and I’ll make him regret underestimating me.
But as she stood there, her resolve hardening, she couldn’t shake the lingering sensation of his gaze, or the way her pulse seemed to race whenever he was near.
As soon as Adolphus left the house, Seraphina sprang into action.
She didn’t waste a single moment, her feet carrying her swiftly to the kitchen.
Her stomach had been grumbling for hours, and now, finally alone, she could eat without enduring his infuriating presence.
The kitchen smelled faintly of bread and something smoky, perhaps the bacon he’d mentioned earlier.
She pulled open cabinets and scanned the counter, her eyes locking on the ingredients neatly arranged: a loaf of crusty bread, ripe avocado, crispy bacon, and fresh tomatoes. Her mouth watered instantly.
She didn’t hesitate, her fingers moving quickly as she sliced the bread and piled on the toppings. For a brief moment, she paused, her gaze flicking to the doorway, half-expecting him to barge in with his cocky smirk.
When silence greeted her, she let out a relieved sigh and returned to her task.
- Writer
