Chapter 19: 17 - feeling ..human

I was sitting in the kitchen, staring at the refrigerator as if it could magically provide me with the solution to my current predicament. Making food—how hard could it be? It wasn’t that I couldn’t; I simply didn’t know how. The mortal act of cooking required more patience than I cared to admit. Normally, I could summon anything with a flick of my wrist, but today, I felt the need to do something mundane—to feel mortal, perhaps. I was a little bored of using my powers for everything, but as I stared at the refrigerator, I couldn’t help but feel as though it was mocking me with its silence.

Then, his voice came from behind, soft and teasing, carrying that infuriatingly familiar confidence.

“The refrigerator will get scared if you keep staring at her like that.”

I rolled my eyes, even as a small smile tugged at my lips. I didn’t turn around, partly because I couldn’t look at him right now. Not after what I’d just confessed to his grandfather’s portrait. He’s mine now. The thought was as thrilling as it was terrifying, and I wasn’t ready to face him . I didn't know what happened to me back then ! Why did I confess that ? My anger sometimes...arghhh!!!

“I wasn’t staring,” I muttered, crossing my arms. “I was thinking.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, stepping closer, his tone dripping with amusement. “And did the refrigerator answer back?”

I shot him a glare over my shoulder, but the smirk on his face only deepened. His hair was slightly tousled, and there was a warmth in his eyes that made my inside twist in a way I wasn’t used to.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to sound indifferent.

“Saving my kitchen,” he replied, brushing past me and opening the refrigerator with ease. “I don’t trust you not to burn it down.”

I huffed, leaning back against the counter. “I wouldn’t burn it. I… just don’t know where to start.”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder at me, his lips quirking into a smile that sent an odd flutter through my chest. “Then sit back and watch. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Before I could respond, he began pulling ingredients from the refrigerator, moving with an ease and confidence that only made my own awkwardness more pronounced. I hopped onto the counter, watching him as he worked. His hands were deft and sure, chopping vegetables and heating a pan like he’d done it a thousand times before. The scent of spices began to fill the air, and I found myself relaxing despite my earlier frustration.

“You look surprisingly at home in the kitchen,” I remarked, tilting my head.

“Surprisingly?” he echoed, glancing at me with a raised brow. “Should I be offended?”

“Maybe,” I said with a smirk. “I thought someone like you would have a chef for this sort of thing.”

“I do,” he admitted, turning back to the stove. “But there’s something satisfying about making something yourself sometimes . Besides, it’s not every day I get to cook for a goddess.” I almost choked !!

But The teasing lilt in his voice made me roll my eyes again, but I couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through me. Watching him like this, so at ease and focused, felt strangely intimate. I rested my chin in my hand, studying him as he moved. His broad shoulders, the way his hair fell into his eyes, the slight furrow of his brow as he tasted the sauce—it was all so… human. And yet, he was anything but ordinary.

My thoughts drifted back to the confession I’d made to his grandfather’s portrait. I’ll protect him because he’s mine now. The words had come so easily, but now they weighed on me. How was I supposed to take back my Blaze Heart when I couldn’t even think about hurting him without feeling an inexplicable anger? What had he done to me?

“You’re quiet,” he said, pulling me from my thoughts. “Planning my demise, or just lost in admiration?”

“You wish,” I shot back, though my voice lacked its usual bite. “I was just thinking about how you manage to make even cooking look annoying.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “And yet, you can’t take your eyes off me.”

I opened my mouth to retort, but before I could, he was suddenly there, standing right in front of me. I hadn’t even noticed him moving closer, too lost in my own thoughts. His hands rested on either side of me, caging me in as he leaned forward. Our faces were mere inches apart, and I could feel the heat radiating from him. My breath hitched, my heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

“Is that so?” he murmured, his voice softer now, his gaze locked on mine. His eyes searched my face, and for once, I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t. If I moved even slightly, our lips would touch, and the thought sent a shiver down my spine.

I hated how easily he unsettled me, how effortlessly he made me forget who I was. I was La Muerte, the Goddess of Death. I wasn’t supposed to feel like this, wasn’t supposed to let anyone get this close. And yet, here I was, frozen under his gaze, my resolve crumbling.

“You’re awfully quiet now,” he teased, his voice barely above a whisper. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Don’t push your luck,” I managed, though my voice was breathless.

His lips curved into a small, knowing smile, and he leaned in just a fraction closer. My heart felt like it might burst, and I hated how much I wanted him to close the remaining distance. But he didn’t. Instead, he pulled back slightly, his eyes lingering on mine.

“Dinner’s ready,” he said, his tone light, as if nothing had happened. He stepped away, leaving me sitting there, my heart still racing.

It took me a moment to gather myself, and when I finally slid off the counter, I shot him a glare. “You’re insufferable,” I muttered.

He just grinned, setting the plates on the table. “And yet, you can’t seem to stay away.”

I huffed, but the small smile tugging at my lips betrayed me. Whatever this was, it was dangerous. But for now, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

The kitchen was unusually quiet, the kind of silence that felt thick with unspoken words. I sat on the counter, swinging my legs slightly, watching him clean up the aftermath of his cooking session. His movements were precise, almost elegant, as he wiped down the counters and stacked the plates. I couldn't help but admire the way his broad shoulders shifted with every action. It was infuriating—how someone could look so annoyingly perfect even while doing mundane chores.

"Enjoying the view, mi reina?" His deep voice pulled me out of my thoughts. Lucifer’s smirk was as infuriating as ever, his dark eyes catching mine as he leaned casually against the sink, his arms crossed.

I raised an eyebrow, refusing to let him see how his words affected me. "You’re just imagining things."

"Am I?" He pushed off the sink and sauntered toward me, his steps slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey. "Because I could swear you’ve been staring at me for the past five minutes."

"I was thinking," I shot back, trying to maintain my composure.

He stopped right in front of me, so close that I could feel the heat radiating off him. His hands found the edge of the counter on either side of me, caging me in. "About me?"

I rolled my eyes, though my heart was hammering against my ribcage. "You wish."

His smirk widened. "You’re right. I do wish."

I hated how easily he could disarm me with a few words. But two could play this game. I leaned forward slightly, narrowing the already small space between us. "Careful, Lucifer. You’re starting to sound desperate."

His eyes darkened, but his smirk didn’t falter. "And you’re starting to sound bold, mi reina."

Before I could retort, his hands moved to my waist, and in one swift motion, he lifted me off the counter and into his arms. I barely had time to gasp before he sat down on one of the kitchen chairs, settling me onto his lap as if I weighed nothing. My hands instinctively went to his shoulders for balance.

"Lucifer!" I protested, though my voice lacked conviction. I could feel the solidness of his chest beneath my hands, his warmth seeping into me.

He tilted his head, studying me with an intensity that made my breath catch. "What? I thought you’d be more comfortable here."

I glared at him, though my heart wasn’t in it. "You’re ....."

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, sending a shiver down my spine. "And you’re adorable when you’re flustered."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he shifted beneath me, his arms tightening slightly around my waist, and all coherent thoughts fled my mind. His hands rested just above my hips, his touch firm yet careful, as if he was holding something precious.

"Why do you do that?" I asked, my voice quieter now.

"Do what?"

"Look at me like that," I said, my gaze dropping to the collar of his shirt to avoid the intensity of his eyes.

He reached up, his fingers gently tilting my chin so I had no choice but to meet his gaze. "Because you’re mine, and I don’t want to miss a single moment of you."

His words left me breathless. There was something raw and unguarded in his expression, something that made me feel both exposed and cherished all at once. I wasn’t used to this—this vulnerability, this feeling of being seen in a way that no one else ever had.

"You’re annoyingly good at this," I muttered, trying to regain some semblance of control.

He chuckled again, his hand brushing a strand of hair away from my face. "At what?"

"Making me feel...things," I admitted reluctantly.

His smirk softened into something more genuine. "Good. Because you make me feel things too. Things I never thought I’d feel."

My heart skipped a beat at his confession. For a moment, neither of us spoke, the silence filled with a tension that was both electrifying and comforting. I didn’t realize I was leaning closer until our foreheads touched, his breath mingling with mine.

"You drive me insane," I whispered.

"Likewise, mi reina," he murmured, his lips brushing lightly against my temple.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt...human .