Rachel watches Dylan standing in faze outside his car, head lifted upwards. Her hand caressed over the flower petals wrapped with fancy paper and ribbon. She fought the smile that was threatening to spread it on her lips, and moved her gaze down to the flower arrangement she was cradling on her lap. It was beautiful. Dylan’s crestfallen reaction over what she said being an asshole was priceless. She could sit and watch it for the rest of the night. The way his mouth gaped astonishingly wide in response to her remarks, and the way his piercing glare penetrated beyond his car's window, was hilarious. After seeing that Dylan had already recovered from a daze, Rachel straightened her back on the passenger’s seat, clearing her face from any emotion and closed her eyes, and leaned on the window, pretending asleep as Dylan pulled the car door open. The car dipped a little as he climbed onto his seat, followed by a soft thud reverberating between them as he closed the door shut and fumbled

Realizing that he had stocked groceries for her, Dylan went to open the fridge, his thumb and index finger pinching his chin as he scanned its content and deliberated what he would have for a meal and cook for something for Rachel as well. That woman might be hungry as a pen-up lioness who hadn’t eaten for days. He saw her cook steak the other night and ate it with gusto. Dylan contemplated for a bit, reminiscing the aroma of the delicacy wafting in the air. He wasn’t a chef, but he could cook. He didn’t just live for hundreds of years for nothing. Knowing precisely what he needed to do, Dylan pulled out the ingredients of the meal he decided to cook and began preparing them. Not wanting to soil his shirt, he took it off and hung it on the rack, taking the black and yellow apron with cartoon characters printed on it in exchange and laced them on himself. He worked around her kitchen effectively, guaranteeing he hadn't left whatever would make the spot look grimy. Might as well he c

For some reason, Rachel felt that her cheeks warmed to what he told her, strangely flattered in quite ways. However, she pushed them at the back of her head and continued with her queries. “You mentioned something about your wolf. Is that another entity living inside you?” “He’s a part of my soul. He’s my alter-ego.” “Does it hurt when you transform?” “No, I’m used to it.” It was like they were in a talk show. Rachel is the host, while Dylan is the guest. She might not have noticed it, but his life now piques her interest, and unknowingly, she had pried out his personal life. “Do you have human friends?” “My family are all humans.” “You have a wife?” Rachel halted on her question after she fired out the last one. Her breath trapped in her lungs as she sat tight for his reply. She already hinted what he would be going to say, but a thought crossed her mind. Jealousy began to gnaw inside her if the anticipation she had would be proven wrong if Dylan would answer it with a yes.

It has been seven days since Dylan had a good night’s sleep. That dream haunts him. His first mate’s face, Laura, keeps appearing to his head whenever he closes his eyes. It was like the nightmares he had before Rachel came to his life crashing back like a wrecking ball. Ruining all his defenses in an instant. That dream he had. Where Laura was dancing on the top of the dais. It was like she was calling into him, yearning for his soul to come to her. Vanishing all of Rachel’s traits inside of his head. She was urging him to follow her to the other side. Dylan didn’t know what to do. He was torn between going with her or staying where he was at the moment. He doesn’t know what the dream means. For over the centuries, he was having the same nightmare. Seeing himself in the middle of his burning hut, gaping at the mangled corpses of his own family. Laura and Myro. It’s also been a week since he last visited Rachel. He didn’t want to face her without seeing or finding Laura in her. He

The bartender smiled at her the moment she perched on her seat as he slid in front of her across the counter. “What can | get you for tonight, miss beautiful?” Rachel thought about it for a moment, her eyes looking over the varieties of liquor that were put on display over the shelves. She wasn’t familiar with all the kinds of drinks, so she blurted whatever the first thing that came out of her head. “One glass of martini, please.” She didn’t know what kind of drink it was that, but she heard for it quite a few times, so at least she could give it a try. “One martini, coming right up.” The bartender chirped and proceeded to prepare her order. He showed her a few of his tricks by throwing and shaking the bottles, pouring the liquor on a cocktail glass in an excessive manner—trying to impress her, along with three cubes of ice and stirring it well. Then he squeezes lemon juice on it and out the peel on the glass’s rim for the garnish. After it was finished, he slid it towards her. R