Chapter 215: Dracula Now Drake
The damp washcloth she used on her face was cold, sending a shiver through her.
She glanced at the tub longingly but sighed, knowing it was a battle for another day.
Stepping back into the room, the smell had only grown stronger, more enticing. Her stomach gave an audible growl, and she realized just how hungry she was.
The tension in her brow deepened. Where was Lucius? He wasn’t in his usual chair or lingering near the door.
Jean padded across the room, her feet barely making a sound on the plush rug as she traced the source of the aroma.
Her nose led her down the hall to the small kitchen attached to her quarters. When she pushed open the door, the sight before her made her stop short.
There he was.
Lucius stood at the counter, an apron tied around his waist, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He held a knife in his hand, in utter darkness he stood working.
The sharp, rhythmic sound of chopping filled the space, accompanied by the faint crackle of something frying on the stove.
Jean blinked, her mind struggling to reconcile the image before her. Lucius—the intimidating, brooding man who could make anyone quake with a single glare—was cooking.
And not just cooking, he was moving with precision and ease, as though he did this every day.