Calantha groaned on the floor, turning from side to side in search of a comfortable position, but that was a hard thing to do when her stomach kept growling like a beast. The last meal she had was at Victoria's house. She didn't have an appetite, so she had eaten the little her stomach could entertain.
She had been a fool to think her loss of appetite would persist forever. She was stuck in a house she would rather die than eat or drink anything from it.
She would persevere until morning when she would be able to go to Victoria's house and have a good meal. She would demand for some food to be packaged so she would see something to eat later on. Well, that sounded like a good plan until her stomach grumbled for a few seconds.
She stood from the floor and started pacing back and forth with the hope that the action would soothe her hunger, but unfortunately, it made it worse as the hunger gnawed at her with every step. She stopped pacing and glared at the door. Where did the sudden appetite come from? Oh, she knew.
It was all the blackguard's fault. If he hadn't cooked whatever nonsense he had been cooking in the afternoon, she would have been fine. Damn the black devil to hell.
Not knowing what else to do, she laid back on the floor and cursed Ryder with all the colourful words that came to her food-deprived mind. More restless, she sat down on the floor with her head buried between her legs.
After a few seconds, she walked to the door and pressed her ear against it, straining to hear even the slightest sound. But the house was eerily quiet, the stillness a dark contrast to the turmoil that unfolded hours earlier.
She couldn't help but smile to herself as she recalled the morning's events when she had angrily kicked the man out of the room. The memory of his shock and angry reaction was still gratifying. She gave herself a pat on the back for pulling that off. At that moment, she couldn't stand the thought of them sharing a room.
As she stood there, her ear against the door, the silence seemed to swallow her whole, the only noise heard was her rioting stomach. It gave her joy to know she was the only one in the house. She contemplated going to the kitchen and—she shook her head and chastised herself. She left the door and continued pacing while clutching her stomach. She would wait a few more hours, morning wasn't far.
She didn't know how it happened, but she found herself grabbing the lantern and next was her tiptoeing through the hallway and staircase, her final destination being the kitchen. She bit her inner cheek as she eyed the pot on the stove wearily. She looked around the room, there was no one in sight. She was sure the blackguard was dead asleep in one of the rooms or better still dead. This isn't right, she told herself.
There was no harm in taking a look at what was inside the pot, she could have bet on her life that it looked bad, which would make her lose her appetite once again. She quickly put the pot lid back on as the aroma of the food hit her smell organ, making her stomach roar with a ferocity that rivalled the wolves.
Against her will, her eyes lingered on the pot. The porridge seemed to mock her with its creamy look and the obvious sweetness taunted her. She was close to tears. "No," She whispered, trying to steel herself, "I won't eat it. I'll wait for a little more."
But her body betrayed her, her hand reaching out to grab a spoon. She hesitated at first as her mind raced with excuses. She needed strength to be able to make it to Victoria's house. "Just one bite," She rationalised as she stood over the pot.
The first spoon was like a revelation—though cold, it was warm, comforting, and utterly delicious. Calantha closed her eyes, savouring the taste. "A few more bites and that would be it." She promised but found herself scraping the bottom of the pot.
She was on her last treat when the front door suddenly jerked open. Her body froze and so did her heart and everything around her. What the hell was happening? Was the house being invaded? She quickly kept the spoon down and placed the empty pot back on the stove when she heard staggering footsteps enter the house.
Smoothening her dress, she turned around to walk away, only to run into the wall. Startled, she shrieked. "Goodness gracious!"
"What the hell, woman?" Came a familiar deep voice.
Calantha looked up, her fear quickly turned to anger upon seeing the bushy face. "Are you insane?"
"What are you doing down here?" Ryder's words came out slurred as he staggered back.
"Are you drunk?" She asked, eyes narrowed into slits.
"I had a few bottles. You didn't answer my question, what are you doing down here?"
"I was thirsty, I came to get some water." She lied smoothly as her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink.
Ryder nodded curtly and strode past her, his movement unsteady, but purposeful. He made his way to the jar on the table, eyes fixed on it with a sense of longing. Without hesitation, he picked it up, his meaty hands wrapping around the clay vessel with a sense of ownership.
Calantha watched, her eyes widening in surprise as Ryder raised the jar to his lips. He tilted the jar back, his throat working as he drank directly from it. The sound of the swallowing was audible, and Calantha felt a shiver run down her spine. There was something primal and unapologetically raw about his behaviour. Barbarian, she thought, fighting the disgust he aroused in her.
"Don't give me that look, it's a normal thing," Ryder spoke as he lowered the jar back on the table, followed by a belch that echoed in the kitchen. "Ah, now I feel better,"
"You uncultured scamp," She spat, her eyes threatening to fall from the sockets. She knew the man was uncivilised but not to that extent.
"You should try drinking from a jar, trust me, it hits differently." Came his calm tone as he dropped the water jar. He went to the pot and found it empty.
Calantha waited for him to comment about the empty pot, but the man just stayed quiet, Calantha turned around, ready to walk away, but was yanked back. "Where do you think you are going to?"
"Back to the room," She tried to yank her hand from his hold, but that only made it worse as the man's meaty hands tightened.
"Do you think I have forgiven you for the drama you caused this morning?"
The scent of liquor lingered in his breath, a reminder of his indulgences, but it wasn't the putrid stench she had anticipated, "I don't want to share a room with you. Now, let go of me,"
"I told you I hate drama," With the help of the lamp, Calantha was able to make out the man's dull grey eyes behind his untamed facial hair.
"And I love drama. What are you going to do about it?" She glared at him, daring him to say or do something.
Ryder's lips pulled up in a sardonic smile as he stared into the most beautiful green eyes he had ever seen. He found it quite disheartening that they belonged to the witch. His other free hand shot up, trapping her face in between his fingers in a tight grip, but not tight enough to hurt her, "You are asking for more than you can chew, don't you think?"
"Don't limit my potential with your limited thinking." She spat back.
"I hope you will keep up with the energy when I come for you," With that, he went upstairs. Scared that he wanted to take revenge by going into the room and locking her out, she ran after him.