Aamon suddenly stood, setting his wineglass down on the ornate table with a quiet clink. He stretched lazily, his golden eyes glinting with amusement."Come," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "I'll make you something to eat."Arabella's stomach dropped at the words. There was something unsettling about the way he said it, his tone too casual, too... deliberate."Make me food?" she repeated, skeptical."Yes," Aamon replied, turning toward the hallway with an elegant wave of his hand. "You must be hungry. I'd hate for our guest to starve."Arabella hesitated. She didn't trust him, not even a little. But as if on cue, her stomach betrayed her, letting out an audible grumble. Heat rose to her cheeks as Aamon's lips curled into a knowing smirk."Well?" he prompted, tilting his head. "Are you coming?"Arabella bit her lip, debating whether to follow him. She glanced at the empty doorway where Damian had disappeared moments earlier, wishing he were still there. But her hunger won the argument, and with a reluctant sigh, she got up and followed Aamon.The journey to the kitchen was surprisingly long, the castle's endless corridors twisting and turning like a labyrinth. Arabella stayed a few steps behind Aamon, her unease growing with every step."How big is this place?" she asked, her voice echoing softly in the vast halls.Aamon glanced over his shoulder, his smirk never fading. "Big enough to get lost in," he replied cryptically."That's not reassuring," she muttered under her breath.They finally arrived at the kitchen, an enormous space with high ceilings and gleaming countertops. It was surprisingly modern compared to the rest of the castle, with sleek appliances and polished cabinets that seemed out of place in the Gothic setting.Aamon walked over to one of the cabinets, humming softly to himself as he rummaged through its contents. Arabella lingered near the entrance, her eyes darting around the room."Are you sure you know how to cook?" she asked, trying to mask her nervousness with sarcasm.Aamon chuckled, pulling open another cabinet. "Oh, I'm quite skilled in the culinary arts, milady. You'll see."There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he searched, and Arabella couldn't shake the feeling that he was toying with her."Where is it... Ah!" he exclaimed, his voice triumphant. He pulled something from the cabinet, and Arabella's heart leapt into her throat when she saw it.A knife.Her eyes widened as Aamon turned toward her, the blade gleaming under the soft kitchen light. His expression had shifted, his smirk replaced by something far darker. There was a sharp intensity in his gaze, one that made her blood run cold."What are you..." Arabella stammered, instinctively stepping back.Aamon advanced slowly, the knife glinting in his hand. Arabella's back hit the edge of the table, trapping her in place."What are you doing?" she demanded, her voice trembling.Aamon didn't answer immediately. He leaned in close, the knife's tip hovering near her face. His eyes bored into hers, his smile a chilling mixture of amusement and something else she couldn't place."I said I'd make you food," he murmured, his voice low.Arabella's breath hitched, her hands gripping the edge of the table. She wanted to scream, to shove him away, but she was frozen in place.Aamon's smirk returned, and with a quick flick of his wrist, he spun the knife around, revealing the apple he'd been holding in his other hand."Do you like it peeled or not?" he asked casually, his tone light and teasing.Arabella blinked, her mind struggling to catch up. "What?""The apple," Aamon said, holding it up. "Do you prefer it peeled or not?"She stared at him, her chest still heaving from the adrenaline. "Are you serious?"Aamon laughed, stepping back and twirling the knife in his hand with practiced ease. "Relax, Arabella. I was just having a little fun.""Fun?" she snapped, her fear giving way to anger. "You call that fun? I thought you were going to—""Kill you?" Aamon finished, raising an eyebrow. "Don't be so dramatic. If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't use a knife. I'd—""Aamon," a voice cut in sharply from the doorway.Arabella turned to see Damian standing there, his golden eyes narrowed in clear irritation."Enough," Damian said, his voice icy. "Stop playing games."Aamon shrugged, tossing the knife onto the counter. "I was just trying to feed our guest," he said innocently.Damian's glare didn't waver. "Leave. Now."For a moment, Aamon looked like he might argue, but then he let out a sigh and held up his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. No need to get so worked up." He shot Arabella a wink as he passed her. "Next time, milady."Arabella didn't respond, her body still tense as she watched him leave the room.Once Aamon was gone, Damian turned his attention to Arabella. "Are you all right?" he asked, his tone softer than she expected.Arabella nodded, though her hands were still trembling. "What's his problem?" she demanded. "Does he always act like that?"Damian exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "Aamon likes to push boundaries. Don't take him too seriously.""Too seriously?" Arabella echoed, her voice rising. "He pulled a knife on me!"Damian's gaze darkened. "He wouldn't have hurt you. He's reckless, but he knows better than to cross the line.""That's not exactly comforting," she muttered, crossing her arms.Damian stepped closer, his expression unreadable. "You need to be careful around him—and everyone else here. This place isn't safe, Arabella. I brought you here to protect you, but that doesn't mean you can let your guard down.""Protect me from what?" she asked, exasperated. "You keep saying that, but you won't tell me what's going on!"Damian hesitated, his eyes flickering with something she couldn't quite identify—guilt, perhaps? "It's complicated," he said finally.Arabella scoffed. "Of course it is."He stepped even closer, and Arabella instinctively took a step back. There was something about him—something commanding and intense—that made her both wary and curious."I'm serious, Arabella," Damian said quietly. "Aamon is the least of your worries right now. If you want to stay alive, you need to trust me."She met his gaze, her frustration warring with her fear. "I don't even know you," she said softly. "Why should I trust you?"For a moment, Damian didn't answer. He studied her, his expression inscrutable. Finally, he said, "Because I'm the only thing standing between you and this world tearing you apart."His words sent a chill through her, and Arabella realized with a sinking feeling that he wasn't exaggerating."Fine," she said reluctantly. "But you owe me an explanation—sooner or later."Damian nodded, his expression softening ever so slightly. "Sooner or later," he agreed. "Now, come on. I'll make sure you get something to eat—without the theatrics."Arabella hesitated before following him, her mind swirling with questions. As much as she hated to admit it, Damian was right—she didn't have much of a choice. For now, she would have to trust him.But something told her that trust wouldn't come easily.