Tasting 196

196–Boo! Let Me Hold Your Onions

Nora:

I thought I could stare him down, but he stood firm like a brick wall before briskly grabbing me by the

back of my neck and pulling me closer to him. My hands landed on his chest, and just before our

lips. could meet, he abruptly released his grip. Even as I resisted and broke free from his grasp, he

appeared shocked at himself for a moment before bursting into laughter.

“Now who scared whom, huh?” he chuckled, a hand on his stomach, laughing like a maniac.

“That wasn’t funny,” I pouted, folding my arms across my chest.

“And that cute little ‘boo‘ was scary?” he teased, raising his brow, then quickly turning to focus on

finding something to eat.

“Let me help you,” I insisted, prompting him to turn around with a raised eyebrow, judging me.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” I rolled my eyes.

“Am I hearing this right? Nora wants to cook?” his taunting tone made me grunt in response.

I pushed him aside to grab a loaf of bread, and before he could comment further, I started gathering

eggs.

“I’m making you an omelet,” I declared firmly. He responded with a closed–lip smile, waving his

finger to decline.

12:26

“Why?” I hissed, hands on my waist.

“Because I don’t want to cat bad food. It’ll give me a stomach ache,” he said dramatically, placing a

hand on his stomach, which only deepened. my glare.

“Then you shouldn’t be cooking,” he commented playfully, compelling me to roll my eyes at him.

“Do you wish to die?” I grabbed a knife and steadily waved it around in my hand. He knew I was

being playful. If he wanted, he could have snatched the knife out of my hands without me even

noticing.

Yet funny how sometimes I entirely forgot I can fight back even if I cannot win against the alpha king

brothers.

“Okay, if you insist,” he pretended to be intimidated by me.

I was determined to prove him wrong, but only if I could cook properly. I’ve never been much of a

cook, so it was going to be challenging. The worst part was that every time he stared at me, I

seemed to mess up even more.

“I’ll show you what a good cook I can be,” I shrugged, grabbing an onion to chop. He remained

standing near the counter, hands resting on it, slightly hunched over.

However, I really wasn’t skilled at it. As soon as I tried to cut the onion, it slipped from my hand, and

the next thing I knew, there was

blood on the counter.

“Ouch!” I grimaced, dropping the knife.

“Nora! What the heck!” Nash quickly moved closer to me, holding my hand to inspect the wound. It

was a pretty deep cut.

21.104

12-27

105 Bon! Let Me Hold Your Drinki

“It hurts,” I pouted, wincing every time the cut stung.

“Let’s get you to the hospital,” he insisted, concerned about the severity of the cut from the dirty

knife.

I didn’t argue. The fact that he had let me use the dirty knife to cut onions so as not to discourage

me further made me feel touched, though the pain reminded me quickly.

We were now headed to the hospital with his towel wrapped around my hand. I had my head resting

against the seat, staring out the window.

“I think I’ll lose enough blood to end up dying in this car,” tears welled up in my eyes, though deep

down, I knew I was being overly dramatic. I was just feeling sensitive because of everything that had

happened recently.

“I won’t let you die, okay?” Instead of laughing at my dramatic statement, he played along.

I turned slightly towards him and continued watching him as he drove. He was so handsome and

comforting. But when we reached the parking lot, I had to divert my gaze back to the window.

“Can you walk? If you feel too weak, I’ll carry you inside,” he spoke softly, still not calling out my

exaggerated reaction.

“I’m fine, just hold me,” I gave him my other hand, and he held it tightly, helping me out of the car.

It felt odd because moments ago I had thought I was being overly dramatic, but as soon as I

stepped into the fresh air and stood on my own feet, I began to feel weaker. Perhaps my mind was

playing tricks on me. He walked me inside and we took the elevator to the second

floor.

However, that’s when I saw a familiar face. There was no mistaking her after encountering her twice

—she was the woman from the news, Silas‘ patient. I noticed she was strapped to her bed in the

room.

Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, devoid of any emotion. Her purple lips were dry, and dark circles

and bags hung heavily under her eyes. Nash stayed beside me the entire time while my wound was

being cleaned. The doctor mentioned the injury looked deep but thankfully didn’t require stitches.

They were probably wondering why I wasn’t transitioning and healing.

Yet, my focus remained on the woman.

After my bandage was finished and we stepped into the hallway, Nash excused himself to call Dad

and update him on our whereabouts. The reception was poor inside, so he had to walk to the

terrace to speak with Lord Atwood.

While he was gone, curiosity got the best of me. I found myself marching towards the woman’s

room. I entered quietly, standing near her bed with my hands clasped in front, my uninjured hand

faintly resting on my wounded wrist.

“Hi!” I greeted her, and at the sound of my voice, she turned her head. from the ceiling to look at me.

Her stare was so blank that I couldn’t discern her emotions.

“I’m Nora. Remember, we met at the Alpha King’s mansion?” I tried to sound cheerful, sensing she

looked sad, possibly mistreated for attempting to cross the border.

She studied my face for a moment, then shook her head ever so gently. In the meekest voice, she

replied, “I don’t know you.”