CHAPTER 4: He Cooks?.

HELENA.

Aaron had been at my house for close to a week now. His wounds were completely healed, but he seemed to want to stay longer. Maybe he didn't have anywhere else to go, considering he was alone when I found him.

I got a job at a local bank just on the east side of Henley. It was popular in the area, and the pay would tide me over long enough until I found something else to do.

The people in Henley were friendly, approachable. There was almost never a case of assault or anyone trying to use the violent method. Or maybe that's what I thought.

I had only worked here for two days, but the people that came here made it feel like I worked for two years. They always complained, and when you tried to profer a solution, they'd either yell at you for being incompetent or fill you with profanities until they were tired or were contented.

I had never committed murder in broad daylight, and it wouldn't be so much of a bad idea to start now.

"Yes it would, you silly horse." Veronica said on the other end of the phone. I always called her when I wanted to vent, and she was not buying the murder idea. Too bad.

"I'm tired of them Veronica. But I don't know what else to do." I sighed.

"You know what, I'll be coming to Henley in a few weeks. I could maybe set you up with something at the library?"

"What? Omg thank you so much! Wait, who do you know there?" I asked with a hint of suspicion.

"Lower your flags missy, I have an old acquaintance who would be happy to help." In other words, she had a guy there. Classic Veronica.

"Okay ma'am." I raised my hands in surrender and giggled, even if she couldn't hear me.

"So, has anything exciting happened? I hear there are a lot of college graduates moving to Henley." She asked while munching on something. I could hear the faint crackle of nylon on the other side.

"No, Veronica. Henley isn't a place for excitement. That's why I came here in the first place." I replied, dismissively. I didn't want the excitement either.

"Oh come on." She whined. "So nothing at all has happened? Mmm?" She asked again, and I noticed a slight change in her tone.

"No, nothing. And stop that, I'm not your husband." I could hear her laugh. I cracked a smile.

"Argh fine. My gut tells me otherwise, but I'll find out soon. You can't hide from me forever." This girl.

"Well, when you do, be sure to let me know eh pumpkin?" I got up from the chair on the terrace and headed back into my office. Lunch break was over.

"I sure will. Well, gotta run. George isn't being a good boy." She said between breaths. George was her six year old German shepherd, and he was a handful. I could imagine he was scratching up the couch or chewing on one of her shoes.

The rest of the day went by in a haze. After my call with Veronica, I finally had the patience to deal with the customers at the bank. I got to my front door, taking off my shoes when I got a whiff of something. A faint, strangely good smell. And it was coming from my house.

I ran in, eager to find where it was from. Sure enough, it was from in here. I pushed the kitchen doors open, and my jaws dropped.

AARON.

Hm, it had been a while.

Helena left before I woke up, and she left me a plate of pancakes for breakfast. I almost scoffed at her good will.

But I'm a werewolf, and I needed more than a few pancakes as breakfast.

I got up after eating the pancakes and decided to make some more. It was tasking, considering I hadn't made pancakes in a long time, but I was happy with the result. I took a huge bite out of one.

Oh no. Ew ew ew.

I gagged as I spat out the bits of pancakes in my mouth. I might have added a tad too much salt. I groaned in frustration. There wasn't any more ingredients for the pancakes, and I was exhausted from trying to figure out how to make them in the first place.

I managed to drag myself till evening before my stomach almost ate itself from the hunger. I clutched it, desperately hoping Helena would show up soon.

I cursed myself. This wasn't gonna do anything.

I stirred and finally dragged myself to the kitchen. Helena would be back soon, but I couldn't wait any longer.

I found a few vegetables, some bacon, beef in the fridge, macaroni, some cheddar and another cheese I didn't recognize, vinegar and a wide variety of ingredients I couldn't name.

Damn.

When last did I enter a kitchen?

I found an apron strung to the side of the door leading to the balcony of the kitchen, and I put it on. It was obviously hers, and a little too small for me. But I had to work with something. Now here comes the hard part, actually figuring out what to cook.

I ran my hands through my hair, seeking inspiration. I didn't bother making food before because of my rank in my pack, and it'd been so long since I even looked in the direction of a kitchen. My eyes swept over the entirety of the kitchen.

It was relatively small, but big enough to fit a refrigerator, a dishwasher, the cooking stove, and an extra cupboard I presumed contained utensils and plates. The floors were made of hard wood, darkish brown and painted with polish. The counter top was in the center of the kitchen, with white and black marble splayed in concentric designs. There were green kitchen curtains on both windows, giving it a nature-like look. Three cupboards were lined on the walls just above the stove, and I assumed they contained condiments. The dim light made the kitchen look more homely.

Apart from the mess I created earlier, this place was perfect.

My eyes strayed to a half opened cupboard, and curiosity got the better of me. I opened it and there was a book inside. A cookbook. I grinned. Just what I needed.

It was a little complicated at first, but I got the hang of it after a while. I was making something called Mac and cheese. The name rolled over my tongue, almost effortlessly. It sounded like it would taste good.

A couple hours later, and I was staring at the biggest pot of anything edible I had conjured in the last 20 years of my life. It smelled good too. I took a bite and almost groaned in appreciation. It was good, really good. I wondered what Helena would think. I began cleaning up the kitchen, when I heard a faint sound of doors clicking. Perfect.

I turned around to find Helena, basically gaping at me. I chuckled.

"W-what is going on here?" She stuttered. I gave her a confused look. Did I do something wrong?

"I made dinner." I replied while taking off the apron. I didn't bother to put on a shirt when I had started, and only when she widened her eyes further did I realised how exposed I was. Her eyes travelled over me, from my shoulders to my chest and stopped somewhere below my torso. She swallowed.

"I didn't know you knew how to cook. You're a…"

"A werewolf?" I scoffed. "We have kitchens in my home too, you know. And we eat real food, not people."

I could see the faintest curve of her lips before it straightened out again.

"Well, what did you make? And why does it smell so good?" She drawled. My muscles tensed. Huh?

"Mac and Cheese. At least that's what I think it is." I showed her the cookbook. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with recognition, and a hint of melancholy.

"This was my mom's…. I had no idea it still existed." She brushed her fingers over the book, as if it were a long lost treasure that would grant her her deepest desires. Suddenly she snapped at me. "That means you used her recipe.. you traitor. I wanted to try it first." Her eyes bore holes through me and for the first time, I felt a bit self-conscious.

"Come on, try it out before you crucify me over finding a good cookbook." I said I walked past her, dishing out a portion of the food. I gave her the plate. She looked at me as if it was poison. I nudged.

"Fine." She stabbed a fork onto the plate and twisted, then she brought it to her mouth, slowly.

I waited in anticipation.

She closed her eyes and chewed, and I could hear a faint sound escape her lips. Then, she glared at me, carrying the plate out of the kitchen.

I followed her, arms across my bare chest.

She was definitely insufferable.