17. Sam

As Nik leaves the kitchen, I’m already rummaging through the fridge, my stomach churning with hunger. I don’t even wait for him to disappear from view before I’m pulling open drawers and cabinets, my eyes widening at the array of fresh, vibrant fruits and vegetables that greet me. It’s an impressive sight, one that speaks to Nik’s healthy lifestyle.

I open the freezer, hoping to find something quick and easy to satisfy my cravings. Instead, I’m met with a dozen healthy-looking smoothies, each one a different color and no doubt packed with nutrients. I wrinkle my nose, my appetite demanding something more substantial.

And then I see the meat. Venison, beef, lamb chops... It’s enough to make my mouth water, and I can’t help but wonder who would win in a contest between Gavriil’s freezer and Nik’s. It’s a close call, but I have a feeling Nik might just edge out my brother in terms of sheer variety.

“Maybe I should give the shakes a try...” I muse, tilting my head as I consider the options before me. But even as the words leave my mouth, I know it’s a lost cause. I’m not in the mood for green juice, no matter how healthy it might be.

With a sigh, I shut the drawer and pull out a block of cheese and what looks like a fancy roasted turkey breast. There’s some bread on the island, and I know instantly what I’m going to make.

“A regular sandwich it is,” I mumble to myself, my stomach grumbling in anticipation. “No green juice for me.”

But as I stare at the ingredients laid out before me, a sudden thought pierces through the haze of hunger. Mila’s words, spoken just hours before, echo in my mind, and I feel a chill run down my spine.

“Nikolaas Draken is a killer.”

I try to shake off the unease, but it clings to me like a second skin. It’s ridiculous, I tell myself. Nik is no killer, no matter what Mila or anyone else might say. He’s kind and gentle, with a heart as big as the ocean. He would never do something so heinous, so cruel.

And yet, as I reach for a knife to slice the bread, I find myself hesitating. A voice in my head, one that sounds suspiciously like my own, whispers its doubts.

You should make sure you’re safe. Just in case.

I feel a flicker of shame at the thought, at the idea that I could ever doubt Nik’s intentions. But I can’t help myself. Slowly, cautiously, I pull open the island’s drawer, my eyes scanning its contents.

Forks, spoons, and other silverware greet me, but no knives. Where are all the knives?

My heart begins to race, my palms growing damp with sweat. I open a cabinet, my movements jerky and uncoordinated, and finally glimpse the knife block tucked away in the back.

“Gods, Brenda! Stop it!” I stammer, my voice echoing in the empty kitchen. I feel like a fool, talking to my own conscience like some kind of madwoman.

But even as I berate myself, I can’t shake the nagging sense of unease. It’s not like Nik to be so secretive, to hide something as innocuous as a knife block. What could he be trying to conceal?

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts. Of course, Nik isn’t a killer. Those are Gavriil’s words, spoken in the heat of the moment, fueled by centuries of hatred and mistrust. The boy I know, the one I’ve come to care for so deeply, is sweet and harmless. He would never do something as heinous as taking a life.

My brother, on the other hand... He’s already killed his fair share of bears, starting with the one who took his beloved mate, Luciana. The thought of him keeping the poor creature’s fur draped over the library chair makes me shudder, revulsion and horror twisting in my gut.

I finish making my sandwich, wrapping it in a napkin with shaking hands. Now that Nik has gone to bed, I take my time wandering through the rooms, nibbling at my dinner as I go.

Maybe I’ll be able to glean some new insight into the man I’m falling for, some clue to the secrets he keeps locked away. But even as I search, I know it’s a futile effort. Nik has been straightforward from the start, his honesty and openness one of the things I love most about him. He wears no masks, hides behind no pretenses.

As I enter the parlor, my sandwich nothing more than a few stray crumbs, I spot a couple of picture frames on the mantelpiece. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I move closer, my eyes widening as I take in the sight before me.

As I study the photograph, my eyes are drawn to the two young boys standing in front of a gorgeous couple. Their faces are alight with joy and laughter, their grins wide and carefree. The man and woman behind them are clearly their parents, the resemblance unmistakable.

But it’s the little girl cradled in her mother’s arms that catches my attention. She’s just a baby, her face round and sweet, her eyes wide and curious. I recognize her instantly, even though she’s much younger in this picture.

Clarissa. Nik’s baby sister, the one I met at the seance just a few short weeks ago.

She had been quiet and reserved then, her eyes shadowed with a grief that seemed too heavy for someone so young. But here, in this frozen moment of time, she is all smiles and giggles, her tiny hands reaching out to grasp at her brother’s hair.

I trace the familiar lines of Nik’s nose, the curve of his lips, and feel a pang of sorrow in my chest. He looks so happy here, so carefree and unburdened. It’s a stark contrast to the man I know now, the one who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders.

I wonder what it must have been like for him, losing his parents at such a young age. And not just him, but Clarissa too. She would have been a toddler when they died, too young to even remember their faces or the sound of their voices.

My heart aches for them both, for the childhood they never got to have, for the love and guidance they were so cruelly denied. I think of my own parents, of the hole their loss has left in my life, and I feel a kinship with Nik and Clarissa that goes beyond mere friendship or attraction.

The pain of that loss, the ache of that absence, is something I know all too well. Life can be so cruel, so unfair, to take away the people we love most just when we need them the most.

We are all survivors, all of us who have lost and grieved and somehow found the strength to carry on. It’s a bond that can never be broken, a shared experience that ties us together in ways that words can never fully express.

As I stare at the picture, at the smiling faces of a family long gone, I make a silent vow. I will be there for Nik. I will stand by his side and help him carry the burden of his loss.

Because that’s what family does. That’s what love is all about.

I yawn, the events of the day finally catching up with me. Nik never mentioned where my room was, but I’m too tired to go searching for him now. I’ll just follow the staircase and find my suitcase. That’s where my room must be.

I climb the stairs, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The doubts that plagued me in the kitchen have faded, replaced by a sense of warmth and affection for the man who has opened his home and his heart to me.

As I drift off to sleep, I know, with a certainty that goes beyond reason or logic, that Nik is not the monster my brother and the rest of the Ursa clan would paint him to be. He is good and kind and true, and I am lucky to have found him.

For now, that is all I need to know.