Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
S carlett continued to study the interior of the cottage as she waited for Finnar to respond. Wooden beams stretched overhead, higher than she’d expected, creating deep shadows in the domed ceiling. The space felt both confined and oddly spacious—built to accommodate someone of his size
Everything looked so abandoned, so uncared for, so solitary, that she felt a pang of unwilling sympathy.
She turned back to find him still watching her, his blue eyes glowing slightly. For just a moment, his mask slipped. In place of the predatory creature who’d brought her here, she glimpsed something else—uncertainty, perhaps even vulnerability. It vanished quickly, but that brief glimpse confirmed what she’d begun to suspect during their journey. His fearsome exterior protected something far more complex within.
When he remained silent, her earlier question unanswered, she gathered her courage and asked softly, “Are you going to hurt me?”
His head snapped back as if she’d struck him.
“No,” he growled, the word sharp and decisive.
The last threads of fear loosened their grip on her heart. Whatever his intentions in bringing her here, whatever revenge he sought against humans, she believed him. He wouldn’t harm her.
Which doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous.
The memory of that dangerous claw traveling over her skin, so unexpectedly arousing, sent another rush of heat through her body. She hastily returned to her examination, noticing the differences between a Vultor home and a human home. A small kitchen area nestled beneath another shuttered window, its familiar arrangement of shelves and work surfaces comforting despite the layer of dust and dirty dishes. Her fingers itched to bring order to the chaos.
A circular hearth dominated the center of the room, crafted with careful precision, river stones arranged in concentric circles. It wasn’t a design she’d ever seen before but she could easily imagine it spreading warmth throughout the space.
Beneath yet another window stood a heavy wooden table, its surface barely visible beneath a cluttered array of items. The windows themselves were different—round and smaller than she was used to, but cleverly positioned to capture sunlight throughout the day.
She looked for a bed and didn’t see one at first, then noticed the curtains flanking a large alcove with a raised platform within. A sleeping area, she realized, large enough to accommodate even Finnar’s big body. One sleeping area.
Heat crept into her cheeks as she quickly looked away. The cottage had an unexpected charm beneath its current state of neglect. Sunlight streamed in through the round window, highlighting the fine craftsmanship of the wooden beams overhead and the careful stonework of the walls.
A collection of dried herbs hung from hooks near the kitchen area, their scents mingling with the earthier notes of the cottage. Though dusty and tangled now, she recognized several varieties her grandmother grew. The shelves held an assortment of clay pots and wooden bowls, their surfaces showing signs of careful decoration despite their current grimy state.
“Well,” she said, keeping her voice light as she turned back to face him. “If I’m to serve you, I’d better start by making this place livable.”
His eyes narrowed, but she didn’t wait for his response. She shrugged off her red cloak, feeling oddly exposed as the fabric slipped from her shoulders, and hung it carefully on a wooden peg near the door, aware of him watching every movement. The weight of his stare made her skin tingle, but she forced herself to focus on the task at hand.
Rolling up her sleeves, she went to the sink nestled beneath one of the round windows. Dust coated the wooden counter, and dishes were stacked haphazardly, some still bearing traces of long-dried food. She reached for the shutters, throwing them open to let more light spill into the dim space. She quickly sorted the dishes, arranging them in neat piles, the familiar process helping her think.
She could do this. Play along, stay calm, and look for an opportunity to escape. And if she happened to improve things while she was here… well, she’d always found satisfaction in bringing order to chaos. The cottage deserved better than its current state of neglect.
She paused to study an intricately carved wooden spoon before she placed it with its fellows. Someone had taken great care with these items once.
“Have you lived here a long time?”
“No,” he snapped. “It belonged to my mother’s mother,” he added reluctantly.
When she glanced over her shoulder, he stood exactly where she’d left him, his big body dominating the room. He studied her with an expression she couldn’t quite read—part suspicion, part curiosity, and part something that made her heart skip.
“You’ve certainly let this place go,” she said, keeping her tone light despite the odd flutter in her chest. The kitchen’s state suggested weeks of neglect, perhaps longer. “Do you have any hot water? I’d like to start with the dishes.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly—surprise breaking through that stoic mask for just a moment before he gave a short nod.
“I’ll start the boiler,” he said, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine.
A short time later she plunged her hands into a sink full of steaming water, grateful for its warmth as she scrubbed at the dishes. She could feel his presence behind her—a looming shadow against the wall, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“These dishes are beautiful,” she said, running her fingers over the intricate patterns etched into a bowl. “The glaze has such depth to it.”
He shifted against the wall. “One of the females in the… village makes them.”
The admission startled her into turning around.
“You have a village?”
He shrugged, his face impassive.
“Of a sort.”
She nodded and returned to her task, filing away that small piece of information. The stories about the Vultor painted them as roaming animals. No one had ever mentioned a village before.
“My friend Tessa makes pottery too, but nothing quite like this. See how the rim curves just so?” She held up another bowl, watching the light catch its surface. “Perfect for soup, I’d imagine.”
Just as she had on the trail, she kept up a steady stream of chatter as she worked, commenting on the craftsmanship of various items, sharing stories about her own attempts at pottery. He remained silent, but he didn’t leave.
When the last plate settled into the wooden dish rack, she moved to the table, attacking the dust with determined swipes of her cloth. The wood beneath proved to be a deep, warm red and she paused a moment to admire it, tracing the grain with her fingertips and appreciating the rich color. She looked up to find him watching her.
“It’s starting to look better already,” he said gruffly.
The unexpected praise sent a wave of warmth through her chest. She caught herself smiling and quickly looked down, reminding herself that this was all part of her plan to lower his guard. Still, she couldn’t quite suppress the pleased flutter in her stomach as she returned to work.
“Isn’t that why you brought me here?” she asked lightly. “To clean and cook for you?”
His gaze locked onto hers, intense and unreadable.
“Among other things.”
Her pulse quickened at the suggestive tone but she ignored it, turning back to the task of wiping down the table. He’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in her physically. Or at least that’s what he’d said. She couldn’t help remembering the way his hands had lingered around her waist during the climb. How his touch had left her skin tingling and her pulse racing—and she didn’t think it was just on her side.
Not that his attraction to her—or lack thereof—made any difference, she told herself firmly. She needed to focus on finding a way out of this mess and back to her grandmother, not thinking about a moody male and his mixed signals.
With a sigh, she picked up the cloth and moved towards the hearth, but his deep voice stopped her.
“No.” A large hand caught hers, pulling her back. She froze at his closeness, her skin prickling with awareness. “Leave that.”
“But… the dust and the ashes?—”
“Leave it,” he growled, his fingers still wrapped around her wrist.
She blinked at him in confusion, then nodded. His hand fell from her wrist, the skin there feeling suddenly cold without his touch. Heat prickled across her cheeks and she quickly turned away, going to fetch a broom instead.
She needed to get away from this strange male as soon as possible.