Brandt

Aiden

The first time I laid eyes on Llaria, I was mid-jog—lungs steady, muscles humming, heart anchored in routine. Training hadn't been the same since I lost a worthy opponent to spar with, but there were other ways to keep myself sharp. Running was one of my favorites. It cleared my mind, kept me grounded.

I was halfway through my second lap when I saw her.

At first, I thought she might be a witch. Or a siren. Something inhuman, enchanting—dangerous. My feet slowed on instinct, then stopped altogether, dragging me closer as if under a spell. I was utterly mesmerized.

Her coily curls were piled into a messy bun, strands escaping to frame her face. Sunlight kissed her skin as she sat cross-legged on a blanket, brush in hand, painting the pond before her with quiet intensity. It was the way she focused, so completely absorbed in her craft, that caught me off guard. There was a different kind of magic in it. A quiet, feminine power. Unapologetic. Unaware.

I hadn't even realized I'd moved until the word left my mouth on a breath.

"Beautiful."

She jumped slightly, startled—but then she smiled, soft and unsure.

"Thank you. I wasn't sure I was doing the pond any justice."

It took me a second to realize she thought I meant the painting.

"The painting is stunning," I said, my voice low, steady. "But it wasn't what I was referring to."

A flush crept over her cheeks. She looked up at me, shy and radiant.

"Thank you."

I shook my head, something about her making me bolder than usual.

"No, thank you. It's not every day I get such a beautiful view during my morning run."

Gods above, the sound of her laughter—it was soft, almost bashful, but it hit me like a spell. I didn't know this woman, not even her name, but I found myself wanting to stay, to speak, to learn everything about her. Dangerous thoughts.

I forced myself to step back.

"Bye, beautiful."

She gave me a dimpled smile and waved, and for a moment, the world felt brighter. Lighter.

The disappointment that followed as I jogged away was... confusing. It pressed against my ribs like an ache I hadn't expected. Maybe the solitude I'd wrapped myself in was finally beginning to wear thin. When was the last time I'd had a casual conversation with someone who didn't know my name or the weight it carried?

No one knew who I was in this city. No history. No whispers. Just air and space and time to be someone else.

Still, I shook the thought away. I'd probably never see her again.

No use dwelling on it now.

Llaria

I smiled to myself as my thoughts drifted to the delicious man from earlier.

Ice-blue eyes. Luscious blond hair. A body carved from temptation itself, glistening with sweat as he ran. Carajo. I groaned and flopped back against my pillow and stared up at the sky.

Why didn't I get his number? Better yet—why the hell didn't he ask for mine?

I sighed and began packing up my paints. Not that it mattered. I probably wouldn't see him again.

Back home, I kicked off my shoes and padded into my room, only to be greeted by my cousin, Kassandra.

"Bitch, what the fuck did you do?" she blurted out, eyes wide.

I barked out a laugh.

"Good to see you too, you whore."

She pointed an accusing finger at me, face full of drama.

"You did something."

I rolled my eyes and set my bag down.

"Can you be more specific?"

Kassandra's eyes narrowed.

"I was pulling tarot cards—like Tía Abuela Lo taught me."

Tía Abuela Lo—our great-aunt Lolany—had been the family's resident bruja. People said she could see the past, present, and future. Some even claimed that her gift showed her something so devastating, it sent her straight to her grave. While she was alive, Kassandra had clung to her like a sombra, soaking up everything she could. Tarot was her favorite.

I raised a brow.

"And what does pulling cards have to do with me?"

She huffed.

"It has to do with you because I was doing a reading for you. I was getting a clear and concise message, then—bam—it stopped. Just like that."

I blinked.

"Why is that my fault?"

She threw her arms up, full novela-mode.

"That's never happened before. Not once. And when I tried again—I got jackshit."

Kassandra glared at me, clearly offended by the silence of the universe.

"I even pulled for me, for Mamá, and for Alejandro—everything came through fine. But for you? Nothing."

I laughed, arms crossed.

"I don't know what to tell you, babe."

She didn't laugh back. Her voice softened, but her eyes still held concern.

"Something altered your future, Llari. I don't like not being able to read it anymore. Are you sure you didn't do anything different today?"

I tilted my head.

"The only thing I did was paint by the pond in the park." I paused, offering a small smile. "It'll be fine."

Kass let out a breath, and I lit one of her calming incense. She smiled gratefully as the scent began to fill the room.

"Thank you," she murmured. "It just freaked me out a little."

I leaned in and kissed her forehead.

"Everything will be okay."

She nodded but didn't quite seem convinced.

"I know you're right... but still. Prepare yourself."

I frowned.

"Uh-uh. Don't do that cryptic shit. I hate when you get all vague and spooky—gives me la carne de gallina."

Kass laughed.

"It's nothing crazy... I don't think. I just felt a big shift. Change is coming for you."

"Change isn't always bad."

"No, but just—be careful, yeah?"

"Always am."

A week later, and I was one minor inconvenience away from losing my damn mind.

Being a sous chef for an egotistical prick who won one televised cooking competition and now thought his bland-ass risotto was heaven-sent? Torture. My eye twitched just thinking about him.

Torn between stress-painting or stress-cooking, I opted for both.

First stop: the supermarket.

I'd been craving eggplant parmesan, so I threw a few ingredients into my cart—eggplant, tomatoes, fresh herbs, and mozzarella. A few sides to go with it. I turned the corner into the produce section and—

I froze.

There he was.

My hot jogger.

My hot jogger?

I shook my head, trying to calm the butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Slow down, girl.

He stood near the avocados, brows furrowed like one of them had just insulted his ancestors.

I couldn't help myself.

"Did that avocado personally offend you?"

Aiden

I glanced back—and my heart promptly malfunctioned.

There she was, standing beside me in the produce aisle like some vision carved from the divine. I smiled, playing it cool.

"Not quite," I said. "I'm struggling to pick good ones out."

Her lips curled into a smile, and I found myself laser-focused on her mouth. Gods, I'd do anything to keep that smile on her face—and I didn't even know her name.

She stepped closer and gestured to the avocados with gentle confidence.

"The ripe ones are usually a dark green, almost black. You want the ones that are firm but give just a little when you press."

I grinned.

"Ahh, so—beautiful, talented, and an avocado expert. That's practically a triple threat."

Her laugh was soft and sweet, like the first sip of something dangerously addictive. I felt it rush through me, heady and warm.

"I'm a chef," she said with a shrug. "So I guess I am a bit of an expert."

I let out a low whistle.

"At what point do you stop getting more attractive?"

She laughed louder this time, tossing her head back—and damn, if I wasn't fully addicted now.

"Do you get less charming at some point?" she teased.

I chuckled.

"Nah, that was a trait I was born with, love."

Her eyes flicked to my cart, mischief dancing behind her lashes.

"So what's on the menu?"

I glanced down, instantly embarrassed by the chaotic mess of ingredients I'd thrown together.

"Not a clue, if I'm being honest."

She studied me for a moment, then smiled like she'd just made up her mind.

"I have a proposition for you."

I raised a brow.

"Oh, yeah?"

"I'll cook you a meal... if you help me gather a few supplies I need."

I hesitated.

I should say no. I knew better. Making connections only made things harder if I had to flee again. Bonds were dangerous. Attachments, fatal.

But looking at her—the curiosity in her eyes, the gentle boldness in her smile—I knew there wasn't a force in the realms strong enough to make me walk away.

My lips curved before my mind could catch up.

"I think you've got yourself a deal, beautiful."

I sheepishly abandoned my cart and followed the beauty in front of me like a man spellbound.

"Maith dom mo ghealtacht," I murmured, falling into old habits. Forgive my idiocy. "Seems we've done things a bit backwards. May I have your name?"

Her eyes widened. A flush of embarrassment bloomed on her cheeks, and then—

"¡¿Toy maldita loca?! ¡Iba a llevarme ese tipo pa' mi casa sin saber ni su maldito nombre!"

She took a deep breath and gave a sheepish smile.

"Definitely skipped a few steps. My name is Llaria. And you?"

I repeated it reverently, savoring the way it curled off my tongue.

"Llaria." I smiled. "My name's Aiden."

Her returning smile nearly leveled me.

"And your accent? What language was that?"

"Gaelic," I replied. "Irish Gaelic. And yours—I recognize the Spanish, but there's something different about the way you speak it."

"I'm Dominican," she said, the pride in her voice unmistakable.

I nodded in understanding.

"So, Llaria... what's on the menu for tonight?"

"I was thinking eggplant parmesan, seafood linguine, garlic bread, and maybe a Caesar salad. That sound good to you? Do you have any allergies?"

I should've said yes—anything to make her fuss over me—but truth be told, I'd eat damn near anything she made. And if I did have allergies? I'd pop some Benadryl and pray to the gods.

"No allergies," I said with a shake of my head. "That sounds perfect."

We shared a smile before heading through the aisles to grab everything she needed. Once we had it all, I stepped in front of her at the checkout, placing my card down before she could protest.

Her mouth opened, but I shook my head.

"You're cooking for me. Least I can do is pay for it."

We carried the groceries to her car, loading everything into the trunk. When we finished, I leaned against the side of her car, half-amused, half-smitten.

"So... what kind of supplies are we picking up?"

"I need some assistance picking up an art supply order."

I smiled, cocky.

"Piece of cake."

It was, in fact, not a piece of cake.

When we arrived at the local art store, I quickly realized Llaria had basically ordered the entire shop. Pounds of clay, enough canvases to paint a small kingdom, brushes, pencils, paints in every imaginable shade. It was endless.

"Love," I said with a grin, "how the hell were you planning to carry all this on your own?"

She gave me a sheepish smile.

"I usually make multiple trips. It's cheaper to buy in bulk."

I let out an incredulous laugh and started loading up my car with the mountain of art supplies. When we were finally packed and ready, I followed her to her home.

She opened the garage as we pulled in.

"All the art supplies go in here."

She moved toward my trunk, but I gently blocked her path.

"I'll unload. You handle the groceries."

She nodded and smiled, disappearing inside.

As soon as the door closed behind her, I let out a breath and used my magic. With a flick of my hand, the supplies began to lift and float into the garage. I guided them into neat stacks, organizing as best I could, though I had no clue what half the stuff even was.

When I finished, I headed inside. The scent of garlic and herbs met me like a warm embrace. I found my way to the kitchen and leaned in the doorway, watching her work. She was already in her rhythm, pulling out ingredients and moving with easy grace.

She looked up, startled.

"You're done already?"

I smiled and nodded.

"Everything's unloaded. I tried to organize them a bit, but—honestly—you had stuff in there I couldn't even name. I just put it where it looked like it belonged."

She laughed softly.

"You work fast. Thank you. I seriously appreciate it. I know this probably wasn't the most exciting day for you."

I crossed the kitchen and leaned against the island.

"Níl tuairim agat cé chomh mór is a chuir tú mealladh orm."

You have no idea how deeply you've charmed me.

"Sweetheart," I added, voice low and honest, "seeing you is the highlight of my day. Believe that.”

Her teeth sank into her lower lip, and my gaze lingered there longer than it should've. I cleared my throat and tore my eyes away.

"Do you need a hand with anything?"

She nodded towards a stool.

"Sit. Relax."

I smiled, took the seat, and watched her move—graceful, grounded, and utterly captivating.

Llaria

The heat of his gaze made my heart race.

I took a deep breath and tried to focus on the rhythm of cooking. I topped the eggplant parmesan with cheese and slid the dish into the oven. As I prepped the pasta, I glanced up at Aiden.

"So, are you from around here?"

His lips quirked in amusement.

"No, I actually moved somewhat recently. What about you? Have you been in Ely all your life?"

I nodded.

"Yep. Born and raised. Our family settled here a few decades ago."

"How was that? Did you enjoy growing up here?"

A soft smile tugged at my lips.

"Yeah. Honestly? I loved it. It's peaceful here."

He leaned in slightly, watching me speak like my words were something sacred. It made my stomach flutter in the most unexpected way.

"Do you mind me asking about your family?"

I shook my head.

"Nope, I don't mind. My mamá and papá passed a while back. I grew up with my tía, my brother Alejandro, and my cousin Kassandra."

His smile was soft, but it knocked the breath right out of me. ¿Es legal que un hombre sea tan condenadamente hermoso?

"And you?" I asked, my voice gentler. "What about your family?"

For the briefest moment, something flickered across his face—anguish. But it vanished so quickly I almost doubted I'd seen it at all.

"My mother and father passed away a long time ago. The rest is... complicated."

I nodded, not pressing. The weight in his voice told me that door was closed—for now. Instead, I shifted us toward lighter conversation, pausing now and then to have him taste test a sauce or seasoning.

When dinner was finally ready, I stepped back and surveyed the spread with quiet pride. I turned to grab the plates, but Aiden nudged me aside with a smirk and started setting the table himself.

I laughed softly and began plating the food.

"What do you want to drink? I have wine, beer, and hard apple cider."

He tapped his chin, pretending to think it over.

"Feels wrong to have anything but wine with a meal like this, yeah?"

I grinned.

"I agree, but I wanted to give you options." I opened the fridge. "Is sweet wine okay?"

"Sounds perfect."

"Good. That's all I have."

Aiden chuckled as I poured his glass.

"Should I make a note of that?"

"Absolutely," I said, taking my seat. "If it's not sweet or bubbly, I'm most likely not touching it."

He nodded, lifting his glass.

"Noted. This looks amazing, Llari."

I bit my lip, trying not to smile too hard as my nickname rolled off his tongue.

"I hope you like it. Please—dig in."

I watched him take a bite, and when his eyes fluttered closed in pure delight, I felt giddy.

His gaze found mine again.

"What do I have to do to get fed like this on the regular?"

I laughed.

"Well, so far, you're on the right path. Let's see how far you get."

His eyes locked on to mine, and the air shifted.

Something strange stirred inside me—as though this man, someone I'd met only days ago, had already woven himself into the fabric of my fate. I thought briefly of Kassandra's reading... her warning about change.

I'd told her change could be good. And I believed that.

But this? This wasn't just a shift. This was an unraveling. I hadn't prepared myself for my entire being to change.

I took a sip of my wine, suddenly feeling like I needed something stronger than Moscato.

The rest of the evening melted into conversation and laughter. It felt so effortless, so right. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this safe, this light, around someone who wasn't family.

If Kassie's warning had been clearer, maybe I could've prepared myself. But there was no preparing for him.

¡Dios mío.

This man had VIP access to my heart—

—and he didn't even know it yet.