Claim Me by Anna Zaires

Author:Anna Zaires [Anna Zaires]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Adult
Goodreads: 28935909
Publisher: Mozaika Publications
Published: 2016-06-13T18:30:00+00:00

35

Lucas

It takes me longer than expected to catch up on everything I’ve neglected over the past several days, and by the time I get home, it’s almost seven-thirty.

The first thing I do upon entering the house is go to the library. To my surprise, Yulia is not there.

“Lucas?” she calls out, and I realize her voice is coming from the kitchen. Frowning, I backtrack and go there.

“What are you doing?” I say when I see her carrying two spoons to the kitchen table. Approaching her in two long strides, I grab the utensils from her hand and clasp her elbow. “You need to be resting.”

“I’m all right,” she protests as I guide her to the table. “Really, Lucas, I’m much better. I got tired of sitting on my butt all day and wanted to set the table for dinner.”

“Tough shit.” I pull out her chair. “Sit, and I’ll take care of that. Your only job right now is to recover, got it?”

Yulia gives me an exasperated look but obeys. For the first time since her illness began, she’s wearing her normal clothes—a pair of jean shorts and a tank top—but the skimpy outfit only emphasizes the severity of her weight loss. Her stomach is concave, and her arms are reed thin. I don’t know why she’s pushing herself so hard, but I don’t like it.

“You are not to move a muscle,” I say as I wash my hands and take out a pair of bowls. Yulia must’ve already turned on the stove to warm up the stew, because when I check, I find it simmering on a low setting. I pour each of us a generous portion and bring the bowls over to the table. “I don’t want you to have another relapse,” I say, sitting down across from her.

She sniffs at the stew instead of replying. “You made it?” she asks, looking up, and I nod, curious to see what she’ll think. I tasted it earlier and liked it, though I still have far to go before I can rival Yulia in the cooking department.

She dips her spoon in and tries a little of the broth surrounding the veggies. “It’s good, Lucas,” she says, and I can’t suppress a smile at the surprise in her voice.

“I’m glad you like it,” I say, digging into my own portion. “It wasn’t difficult to make, so I should be able to repeat it.”

Yulia begins eating with evident enthusiasm, and I watch her, pleased to see her enjoying my efforts. There’s something oddly satisfying about seeing her at my kitchen table, eating the food I made and wearing the clothes I got for her. I never thought of myself as the nurturing type, never considered that I might want to take care of someone, but that’s precisely what I want to do with her. It’s particularly strange because, this illness aside, Yulia is one of the most capable women I’ve met.

She’s quiet as we make quick work of the stew, and I let her eat in peace, worried that even this meal might be too taxing for her.

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