#Chapter Twelve: The Bath

I instinctively tried to pull my hand back, but Elijah held my wrist firmly, his grip surprisingly gentle. A shiver ran through me as I felt his warm tongue lapping at the wound. The sharp pain gradually faded, replaced by a soothing warmth that spread through my finger, as if he were weaving some kind of magic to heal me. I blinked in astonishment, unable to tear my gaze away from him. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before finally releasing my hand. "You smell like..." he began, his brow furrowing as if he were trying to articulate something he couldn't quite grasp. But the thought slipped away as he took the knife from my hand, motioning for Thea and me to step aside. I raised an eyebrow, my curiosity piquing as I moved to wrap my finger in a paper towel. “You can cook?” Elijah, still focused on the task at hand, nodded curtly. “I won’t let a careless woman handle the kitchen.” His tone was playful, but there was an undercurrent of seriousness in his words. I couldn’t