Chapter 39

The Prey

Embarrassed and scared, I stashed the burnt veggies into the dustbin and eyed the remaining stock. There wasn’t much left now after over-cooking the soup four times in a row. I had a shameful confession to make: I did not know how to cook. In my defence, my mother never bothered to teach me, or simply, I never wished to learn. I could do other chores though—washing, laundry, cleaning, mopping, or even repainting the whole house—but cooking? I couldn’t fix a sandwich to save my life.

And now, I was saving my life.

If this kept up, I hardly thought Judas would let me leave after emptying his fridge and ruining three of his pots.

Heaving a defeated sigh, I shook my head in frustration. Cook? What the hell did he want me to cook? Or better, why did he want me to cook? What games he was playing now?

Whatever it was, I was glad he wasn’t forcing me or placing his unwelcome lips on mine. His touch infuriated me. My knee-jerk reaction