Break The Ice

Chapter 5

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I tossed around, relishing the plushness of whatever I was on. Whatever it was,silk, satin, cotton, shag, it was sure as hell making it beyond difficult to bring myself to wake up. As the day made its first noticed appearance through the window, I realised I would no longer be able to go to sleep. My dreams were non-existent and while I did miss the nights where I dreamt of my slumber parties with Melissa, I was at least grateful to not have those awful nightmares. This bed felt so soft. I let my hand course over the deep red,thin sheets, thinking that I should buy them. I hopped off the bed and onto the warm, hardwood floor. I went into the bathroom and washed up and cleaned myself up.

Before I could even utter a word, the reality hit me. This wasn't my house. I didn't own crimson silk sheets. The rational side of me grasped the fact that I was indeed not in the best situation.

'Okay,' I thought, 'need to think. I'm in a seemingly perilous situation. Who am I kidding I could be the hostage of a dangerous killer. Has to be rich if he has silk sheets. Okay back to thinking.'

Amidst my inner reflections, I heard the bang and clatter of metal, soon followed by a string of foreign words I did not recognize the language of. I presumed them to be curse words, given the angry tone with which they were spoken. I thought the voice to be very familiar and with that one thought, my cautiousness went out the window as I quietly opened the door and tiptoed down the hall.

I rounded the corner, half ready to take down whoever it was. I let out a silent sigh of relief when I saw Nikolai and the memories of last night rushed back. As the memories flooded, I felt like something was missing and when I thought about it, I only got  a massive pain at the back of my head. I dismissed my pondering and focused on Nik, who apparently hadn't realised I was awake and in the kitchen as he bustled around the kitchen in an eggshell white apron that clashed with the black turtleneck he wore. His head was bowed down, his hair hanging freely as his eyebrows furrowed over his silver eyes, monitoring the breakfast that he cooked.

Finally as he dished it out on a plate, he turned around and jumped in surprise as I leaned in the doorway.

"Jesus, you scared me? Come sit," he motioned to the dining table, " I made you breakfast." I was slightly taken aback by the fact he went out of his way, in this sense, to cater for me.

"Well, you're scared," I began chuckling, " I woke up, thinking I was in some murderer's place because I forgot you took me in." he gave a deep, but soft chuckle to my story and ushered me into the chair.

As he put the steaming plates of food onto the section of the table in front of me, I found myself to be salivating exponentially with the increase in level of the growling of my stomach. He had gone so all out, it wasn't funny. He made fresh buttermilk pancakes, he scrambled some eggs, on another plate, was a stack of toast and lastly, in a bowl, were an assortment of fruits. 'Well here goes,my last meal.' I thought wryly about my paranoia this morning.

"How in Sam Hill am I gonna eat all this?" I laughed, " A bowl of Cheerios would have sufficed."

"Yeah," he replied,chuckling nervously as he scratched the back of his head, "guess I got a little carried away. I haven't had any visitors for centuries." a confusing emotion flashed in his eyes, much like when someone is caught red-handed, but I laughed it off.

"Well," I began shovelling food into my mouth, moaning audibly and shamelessly at the sheerly divine flavour of his cooking, " whoever hasn't been visiting, needs to get their butt over here and have a taste of this stuff. It's absolutely delicious. You didn't have to go through all this trouble to cook for me, but thank you." he nodded curtly and began to walk away before I called.