She Belongs To No One

Damon's POV

THE BACK DOOR OF THE cabin flies open as the slippery knob escapes my grasp, a gust of wind pinning it against the wall. I close it behind me as quickly as I can, shoving most of the snow back out. As soon as I do, another gust of wind comes knocking while another rattles the windowpane. The storm has turned nasty now, its temper at its fiercest.

Thank goodness.

I hear Seraphina's thought along with her sigh of relief. I turn around, finding her standing a few feet away in one of my sweaters, a spoon in her hand, and an uncertain smile on her face.

At least, her temper seems to have waned. Her thoughts are no longer a murky sea but a stream, still flowing rapidly, but finally back on course.

"For a moment there, I thought you were not coming back," she says out loud, her thoughts practically singing with relief. "The storm has really picked up."

I brush the snow off my arms. "It has, but you should not have worried."

"To think you do not even have a shirt on you. You must be freezing cold." She puts down the spoon and grabs the lantern from the kitchen table. "I will go get the quilt."

"You do not..."

But she is gone, her footsteps and the light from the lantern fading down the corridor.

In the darkness, I walk up to the stove and take the lid off the pot. Immediately, the fragrance of the rabbit stew assaults my nostrils, making my mouth water.

"I hope you do not mind," Seraphina says as she comes back to the room, draping the quilt over my shoulders. "I cooked a meal. Got hungry."

I step away from the stove, a little wary of her change in attitude. "It smells good."

She smiles. "Glad you think so. Well, I do know a bit about cooking. Now, you go into the living room and warm yourself by the fire. I will bring the stew."

I narrow my eyes at her. "Are you ordering me around?"

Seraphina places her hands on her hips. "And if I am?"

The alpha in me gives a low growl. The hungry man silently complies.

I walk to the living room, and sit on the rug in front of the fire. But not too close. The warmth seeps into my skin in seconds.

"Here you go."

Seraphina hands me a bowl of stew then sits beside me with her own.

As she does, my eyes are drawn to her, feeling like I am seeing her for the first time. Her light brown hair basks in the firelight, transforming into a sea of gold. Her bluish gray eyes remind me of a winter morning, the kind where you do not know if the sun will finally shine or if more snow will pour down from the heavens. Her upturned nose sits atop a pair of lips that are neither too full nor too thin, the lower lip fuller than the upper.

Conscious of my gaze, she runs her hand through her hair. "I washed all the blood off, did not I?"

I nod. There is no trace of a head injury at all, the skin as unblemished as the day she was born.

I think about asking her what made her change her mind. Why she had come out of her room when nothing I could say or do had made a difference. But questions of that sort are a danger. I start asking things, then she will start asking about me. The tradeoff is not worth it. I tear my gaze away, and stare at my stew instead, picking my way carefully around the carrots, eating the rest.

Seraphina blows on her stew and tastes it cautiously. I can almost feel her reaction, it is too hot for her. We are too closely attuned. She tilts her head, listening to the wind. "I am not really an indoor person. I have never been. I need to tell you I am a bit of a claustrophobic. Though, strangely enough, I also like cozy spaces and long, tight hugs."

I shake my head. "I do not like hugs," I say without thinking. Why I am volunteering this, I do not know.

She chuckles. "Well, it does not take a mind reader to know that." She mixes her stew around. "Your guestroom is not cozy at all, though," she says, answering my unspoken question from before. "It is stifling. How long has it been empty?"

"You are its very first occupant," I confess, realizing that whether I voice what is on my mind or not, she is going to insist on making conversation.

"Well, that explains it, though I should have guessed. Now that I think about it, it is surprising you even have a spare bedroom, being antisocial and all."

I frown, only just biting back the growl that would warn anyone else to back off. "I am not antisocial. I just have not found the right company. There is a difference."

She shrugs it off, like it is not important. "No need to explain. I know it well."

She does?

She sighs. "Well, once I could think straight, I could not stand staying in that little room another minute. I just had to get out of there. Then like I said, I got hungry." She lifts her bowl. "And you know what? I still am. Enough talk. Let us eat."

She picks up her spoon and starts eating, stuffing the bits of rabbit meat and vegetables into her mouth and slurping the rich soup. Some of it trickles down her chin and she hastily wipes it off. "What?" she asks me, with an amused grin. "Never seen a hungry woman before?"

I do not answer, digging into my own bowl of stew. She is not the only one who is ravenous.

In minutes, my bowl is empty, not a drop of the stew remaining, my stomach fuller than before. I had even eaten the damned carrots after all.

"Good?" Seraphina sets her own empty bowl in front of her.

I set mine down as well, nodding. "You are right. You can cook. And it is good to share a meal with someone again."

My thoughts fly back to the last time I did, back at Volkovgrad. Back when evenings meant sitting around the fire with several members of my pack. I lost myself in the image for a moment, savoring what I could no longer have.

"Wow." Seraphina's eyes grow wide. "You sure have a big family."