Chapter 6: A Taste of Warmth

Seraphina

Sunlight spilled through the sheer curtains, bathing the room in a warm glow. Sera blinked awake, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar softness of the bed beneath her. The mattress was plush, the sheets smelled faintly of lavender, and for once, she wasn’t waking up in fear.

She sat up slowly, wincing as her ribs protested. Her room—her new room—was spacious but cozy. The soft cream walls, the large window overlooking the city skyline, and the faint scent of fresh linen gave her a fleeting sense of peace.

But it was the door across the room, slightly ajar, that caught her eye.

With hesitant steps, Sera approached and pushed it open. Her breath hitched in her throat.

It was a walk-in closet. And not just any closet—it was filled with rows of the softest hoodies she’d ever seen. Colors ranging from neutrals to warm pastels were hung neatly, each one looking impossibly plush. On one of the shelves, a stack of sweatpants and leggings sat folded to perfection. There were even fluffy socks in every imaginable pattern.

She ran her fingers along one hoodie, the fabric slipping through her fingertips like water.

"He did this… for me."

A lump formed in her throat. Damon Hale—this powerful, intimidating man—had thought about her comfort. About her safety. About what would make her feel… okay.

She was so lost in thought that she nearly missed the faint knock on the doorframe.

“Delivery for Miss Hoodie Enthusiast,” Liam’s voice broke the silence.

Sera turned to find Liam leaning casually against the door, holding a pair of the fluffiest house slippers she’d ever seen. They were pastel pink with embroidered kitten faces on the front and tiny ears sticking up.

She stared at them, her lips twitching upward.

Liam grinned. “Ah, there it is! A smile! A real one this time.”

She took the slippers from him, cradling them carefully in her hands before slipping them onto her feet. They were absurdly soft, and for a brief moment, she felt… normal.

“Perfect,” Liam said with mock-seriousness. “You are now officially a member of the ‘Comfort is King’ club.”

Sera let out a faint huff of laughter—a sound so soft that Liam almost missed it.

“Come on, genius girl,” he said with a wink. “I’m starving. And rumor has it, you know how to cook.”

The kitchen was modern and sleek, all stainless steel and marble countertops. Sera stood at the stove, wearing one of the oversized hoodies from her new closet—a soft lavender one—and her kitten slippers. She glanced at Liam, who was leaning against the counter, munching on a piece of fruit.

“You’re not helping,” she said softly, her voice still carrying that faint timidity.

“I am helping,” Liam said, gesturing to himself. “I’m… moral support.”

Sera rolled her eyes—a small, almost playful gesture that made Liam’s grin widen.

She turned back to the stove, carefully flipping a pancake in the skillet. The smell of butter and vanilla filled the air. Beside her, a stack of golden pancakes piled high on a plate.

Liam leaned closer, peeking over her shoulder. “You’re a wizard, Sera. These look perfect.”

“Years of practice,” she said quietly, her lips twitching again.

“Remind me to keep you here forever,” Liam said dramatically. “You can never leave. I’ll chain you to the stove.”

Sera snorted—actually snorted—and Liam froze, his grin spreading ear to ear.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve done it!” he announced to no one in particular. “We have achieved a snort!”

Sera shook her head, a faint flush creeping up her cheeks.

Damon

Damon stepped into the kitchen, drawn by the warm scent of pancakes and the faint sound of laughter. He froze in the doorway.

Sera stood by the stove, a spatula in hand, her lavender hoodie hanging loose over her small frame. Liam was lounging against the counter, a mischievous grin on his face. The sunlight streaming through the window painted everything in gold, and for a brief moment, Damon felt like an intruder in his own home.

But then Sera glanced up and saw him. Her smile faded, her shoulders stiffened slightly.

Damon cleared his throat. “Smells… good.”

“It is good,” Liam said, grabbing a pancake from the stack and biting into it. “Genius girl here is a five-star chef. Who knew?”

Sera’s eyes flicked to Damon, uncertain, waiting for his reaction.

Damon stepped forward slowly, as if he were approaching a frightened animal. “Can I… help?”

Sera hesitated, glancing down at the skillet. Then, she handed him the spatula.

For a moment, Damon just stared at the utensil in his hand, as if it were some kind of alien artifact. Liam snickered from his corner of the kitchen.

“Go on, boss man. Flip the pancake.”

Damon raised an eyebrow but turned his attention to the skillet. With a controlled flick of his wrist, he flipped the pancake. It landed—slightly crooked, but intact.

“Not bad,” Sera said softly.

It was the first time she’d directly addressed him in days.

Damon’s lips twitched. “High praise.”

The three of them worked together after that—Liam stealing bites of fruit, Sera managing the stove, and Damon flipping pancakes like his life depended on it. The tension that usually hovered around them felt lighter, the air warmer.

When the stack of pancakes was finally finished, they all sat down at the kitchen island. Damon poured syrup over his plate, and Liam drowned his pancakes in whipped cream.

But it was Sera’s soft voice that broke the comfortable silence.

“Thank you… for this.”

Her eyes met Damon’s briefly, and for the first time, she didn’t flinch away.

Damon’s voice was quiet, steady. “You’re welcome, Sera.”

Later that night

Sera sat on the floor of her bedroom, her laptop balanced on her knees. The faint glow of the screen illuminated her face as she typed, her expression focused.

In the hallway, Damon leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her silently. She was so small, so fragile—and yet, there was something unyielding about her. Something sharp and brilliant that even her trauma couldn’t extinguish.

As if sensing his gaze, Sera looked up. Their eyes met across the room.

“Goodnight, Damon,” she said softly.

It was the first time she’d said his name.

Damon inclined his head slightly. “Goodnight, Seraphina.”

He turned and walked away, leaving her in the soft glow of her screen and the fragile peace of her new sanctuary.

But as he walked down the hallway, Damon couldn’t stop the faint smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.

She’s healing. Slowly. But she’s healing.

And for now, that was enough.