Page 53 of Star Claimed Omega
She exhaled and slumped back into the pillows. ‘He was kind.’
‘He was flirting,’ Santi muttered. ‘While you’re sick. Not professional.’
She gave a slight dismissive wave. ‘De nada. He’s so not my type.’
A muscle in his jaw ticked. ‘So, who is,guapa?’
‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’
His narrowed gaze was so intense and lethal, making it clear he did.
She blinked and took an inhale as the air again charged around them.
‘I’m too tired to think,’ she whispered, deflecting from answering.
Eyes locked on her, Santi prowled forward until he stood at the foot of her bed.
His eyes raked over her again, not like the medic’s did; there was no teasing here, no calculated flirtation.
Instead, he radiated care, frustration, and worry.
‘You scared me,’ he rasped at last, his voice hoarse and rough.
‘I didn’t mean to.’
‘I know.’ His mouth pressed into a line. ‘I’m still not over it.’
She eyed his stance, as he rocked on his heels, like a man who didn’t want to get too close but didn’t know how to leave.
She studied the play of muscles beneath his jumpsuit, the way his fingers curled around the forearms crossed over his chest.
She’d never seen him this way, so unguarded and raw.
Without warning, his energy shifted.
‘Let me feed you,’ he rasped, the timbre of his voice curling like smoke through her bones.
Before she could reply, he left, only to return moments later with a tray balanced in one hand.
On it, a warm spread: three small savory pastries wrapped in golden dough, steaming and fragrant with rosemary and garlic; a bowl of clear broth; and a fresh cup ofkahawa, the scent of spicedkaffeinemaking her stomach growl.
He caught the sound and smirked, a brow arching. ‘That’s a good sign.’
‘I didn’t realize how hungry I was,’ she admitted.
He nodded, then sank into the chair beside the bed, muscles moving beneath his jumpsuit in sinuous shifts.
‘Eat,’ he ordered, his voice edged with a graveled authority. ‘You were one sick woman when I picked you up.’
‘Sante, I appreciate this, I’m grateful for it all, truly I am,’ she murmured, still in awe that this scene was even playing out.
He placed the tray on its supported feet before her, and she reached for one of the pastries and dug in.
The first bite made her moan aloud, as hot cheese and herbs exploded on her tongue, the buttery crust melting over it.
‘Gods,’ she whispered, tears prickling her eyes. ‘This is divine.’
He didn’t speak; he studied her with that same solemn, unwavering gaze.
