Draven cooking.
Outside of the room was a small dining area with a kitchen, and her half-naked mate had his back on her, busy cooking.
She rubbed her eyes with a hand, trying to check whether she's dreaming or what.
'Ha ha, of course this is a dream. Otherwise, it doesn't make sense. My dreams are being so weird these days. I need to get out of it.'
She pinched her arm, only to whine in pain.
"Ouch, that hurts—"
Draven heard her and looked in her direction. Seeing her distorted expression, he walked towards her with a ladle in hand. "What happened?"
She blinked a few times at him. The mixture of his forest scent, smoke and delicious broth caused her to dumbly gawk at him. "It's…not a dream?"
He looked at the red patch on her arm where she had pinched herself and rubbed the place gently with his thumb. "It's not a dream."
