Marrying a Warhound (Cassian) novel Chapter 81

Chapter 81

ATASHA’S POV

The brutality I had braced myself for never came. Instead, Cassian sat at the far end of the cave, his back resting against the stone wall, silent as he watched me prepare some food for us.

I worked with what little I had. Earlier, I had gathered dry wood from the cave entrance. Now, I struck two blades together until sparks caught. Soon, flames licked at the logs. The warmth spread slowly, pushing back the chill that clung to my skin.

Cassian’s eyes were closed, but I knew he wasn’t asleep. His posture was too controlled, his breathing too steady. He was listening, watching, even if he didn’t move.

I pulled the beast’s meat away from the bone, my dagger slicing through with effort. Normally, this kind of flesh was too toxic to eat. But I pressed my hand over it, forcing my ability through until the foul taint lifted. The veins of poison bled out like smoke under my touch, leaving the meat clean. Relief loosened my shoulders as I skewered it and set it over the fire.

The smell wasn’t pleasant. Without salt, herbs, or anything else to mask it, it was sharp and metallic. But food was food. At least it wouldn’t kill us.

While the meat cooked, my gaze kept drifting toward him.

At some point, he had cleaned himself. The streaks of dark blood that had coated him earlier were gone, his clothes free of the stains I had seen only moments ago. His skin looked untouched, almost ordinary.

Anyone looking from the outside would never believe he had ripped a monster apart with his bare hands. He sat at the far end of the cave, his posture relaxed, as though the fight outside hadn’t happened at all.

Then his eyes opened.

They glowed red, locking directly onto me.

I froze. My feet almost tangled as I stepped back, my throat closing up for a moment before I forced myself to speak. Clearing my voice, I raised the skewers in both hands. “The food’s ready,” I said, my words stiffer than I meant them to be. “You should eat first.”

He didn’t answer.

I shifted, uneasy. “It’s not poisonous. I… I removed it.”

For a moment, the fire popped, filling the silence. Finally, he spoke. “Come.”

I hesitated but then nodded. By now, I understood one thing, if he wanted me dead, I wouldn’t still be breathing. So I stood, gathered the skewers, and walked toward him.

I held one out.

Instead of reaching for the skewer, his hand shot out and closed around my wrist. The grip was strong, his strength pressing straight through bone and skin. I flinched, unable to hide the reaction, my pulse jumping in an instant.

He didn’t glance at the food. His eyes stayed fixed on mine, even as he leaned forward. His mouth closed around the meat, tearing into it while his hand kept me locked in place. The heat of his breath brushed my skin, close enough that every muscle in my body went stiff.

I couldn’t move as the skewer tilted awkwardly in my other hand, forgotten, while he chewed only inches away. My chest tightened. My heartbeat slammed so hard against my ribs it felt like it might break through.

My eyes widened. Was he… trying to feed me? The thought alone made my throat tighten. I wanted to ask, to say something. but no words came out.

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