"What are you cooking?"
Elise asked, her voice sounded like an attempt to sound nonchalant as she leaned over the kitchen counter, her eyes narrowing with curiosity as she watched Dietrich move around the kitchen.
Dietrich glanced at her over his shoulder, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Chicken broth," he replied simply, his deep voice rumbling in a way that seemed to reverberate through the room.
The kitchen's soft, warm lighting highlighted the sharp angles of his jaw and the dark stubble that framed his face. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the toned muscles in his forearms that flexed subtly with every precise motion.
Elise found herself mesmerized by the way he moved—controlled, confident, almost like he belonged there in that space, commanding it with an effortless grace. She'd seen him in a suit in pictures and news countless times, always polished, always so put-together. But, in an apron? Here, in the kitchen?
It was so hot.
The scent of garlic and simmering herbs filled the air, mingling with the heat from the stove, but her focus remained on him. His hair, slightly tousled, seemed to fall perfectly into place as he leaned over the pot, stirring with a deliberate slowness that suggested he knew exactly what he was doing. She could see the concentration in his eyes—a dark, intense gaze that never wavered from his task.
The way he handled the knife when chopping vegetables, the precise way he seasoned the broth. There was something almost hypnotic about the rhythmic motions, and Elise found herself leaning in a little closer, the air between them charged with an unspoken tension.
She tried to ignore the way her heart picked up pace, the subtle flutter that danced in her chest. It was ridiculous, she thought, but she couldn't help it.
Watching him like this—so at ease yet so focused—made her feel something she couldn't quite put into words. As Dietrich turned to grab a handful of fresh parsley, his eyes caught hers. For a brief moment, time seemed to still, and Elise quickly looked away, a slight blush warming her cheeks.
She got caught.
"Do you always put this much effort into chicken broth?" she teased, trying to bury the topic of her staring at him.
Dietrich's lips curved into a slow, knowing smile, his gaze lingering on her for just a second longer than necessary. "Only when I have an audience." His tone was casual, but there was a hint of something deeper beneath the surface.
Elise's heart skipped a beat, her cheeks still flushed. She wasn't sure if it was the warmth from the stove or the way he looked at her, but she suddenly felt like she was the one simmering instead of the broth.
"I haven't told mom yet." Elise spoke as she moved away from Dietrich a little. Her entire face red from embarrassment. Her gaze lowered to the floor.
"I know." Dietrich clicked his tongue as his eyes landed on an Elise who was avoiding his gaze. "Sit. Let's eat. I'll be staying over for a while."
Elise reluctantly took a seat at the small dining table, her eyes flicking to Dietrich now and then as he moved about the kitchen. The warmth of the broth's aroma filled the space between them, but the air was charged with a different kind of heat—one that neither of them wanted to acknowledge out loud.
Why?
It was wrong.
Dietrich brought over two steaming bowls of chicken broth, setting one in front of her before taking a seat across the table. Elise stared down at her bowl, her fingers lightly tracing the rim, trying to suppress the fluttering in her stomach.
She didn't want to admit how comforting it felt having him around, even if it came with his incessant teasing for some reason buried in the corner of her heart.
"Eat up, Elise," Dietrich urged gently, breaking the silence. His voice was softer now, almost coaxing. "You need to keep your strength up, especially with all that vase-smashing energy."
Elise shot him a glare, though there was no real venom in it. She picked up her spoon, taking a cautious sip of the broth.
The warmth spread through her, easing some of the tension that had settled into her muscles. It was surprisingly good—flavorful, with a perfect blend of herbs and spices. She hated to admit it, but Dietrich could cook.
"Not bad," she mumbled, trying to sound indifferent. "I guess you're good for something other than being annoying and cold."
Dietrich chuckled, a low, rich sound that sent a shiver down her spine. "Glad to know I'm not completely useless in your eyes," he replied, his tone light but his eyes watching her carefully, as if searching for something more in her words.
They ate in silence for a few moments, the only sounds the soft clinking of spoons against bowls and the distant rumble of thunder outside.
Elise found herself glancing up at him more often than she wanted to admit, catching little details she'd never noticed before—the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones, the way his lips curved just slightly when he wasn't smirking or teasing her.
"So..." she began, trying to break the tension that was starting to feel suffocating. "How long do you plan on staying over?"
Dietrich leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving hers. "As long as I need to," he said simply, his voice steady. "Until things settle down. Until I know you're safe. Until I finish… investigating."
Elise's spoon paused midway to her lips. She hadn't expected that answer. "You don't have to babysit me, you know," she muttered, her tone a bit defensive. "I can take care of myself."
"I know you can." His reply was quick, firm. "But that doesn't mean I'm leaving you alone, Elise. Not when there's a risk. You can fight a load of assassins alone."
She rolled her eyes, but there was a warmth in her chest that his words brought, an unwanted sense of comfort. "You always think you know best, don't you?"
He smirked again, leaning forward slightly. "Well, when it comes to keeping you safe, yeah. I do."
Elise's lips twitched with a reluctant smile, but she quickly hid it behind her bowl, taking another sip. She didn't want him to see how his words affected her.
A few moments of silence passed, filled only by the sounds of their quiet eating. Dietrich's presence, though imposing, was strangely calming now. She could feel his eyes on her, but it wasn't the predatory stare she was used to. It was different—softer, almost protective.
She set her spoon down, meeting his gaze. "Dietrich," she began softly, her voice hesitant. "Why do you care so much? I mean, you barely tolerate me most of the time. Always so cold. Have I done anything to you? I just…"
He was quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable. "You saved me from a snake," he said finally, his tone softer than she'd ever heard it. "That's all you have done. Don't overthink it."
Elise felt her heart skip a beat, her breath catching in her throat. She wasn't sure how to respond to that—wasn't sure if she wanted to hear more or change the subject entirely. "If being cold and running away, your way of showing thank you. Well... you do have a weird way of showing it," she mumbled, looking away.
Dietrich chuckled again, his laughter soft but genuine. "Yeah, I suppose I do."
The atmosphere between them shifted slightly, the earlier tension dissolving into something warmer, something... gentler. Elise found herself relaxing, her shoulders losing some of their rigidity.
She didn't know what to make of this side of Dietrich—the one that wasn't all smirks and teasing remarks. It was new and it made her feel off-balance.
But it wasn't entirely unwelcome. Maybe, she would have never had a chance to see it if she wasn't his mate.
"Thanks for the food," she said quietly after a while, her eyes meeting his gaze again. "It was... nice."
Dietrich smiled, a small, sincere curve of his lips. "Anytime, Sunflower," he replied softly, using the nickname in a way that felt less teasing and more... endearing.
Elise felt a blush creeping up her cheeks again, and she quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the empty bowl in front of her. She didn't know what to say, but it wasn't that bad of a thing.
For the first time in a long while, she didn't feel the need to fill the silence.
They could just... be.
Ding! Dong!