Haunted (Alastor x OC)

Ch 8

Aria's POV

I sat at the kitchen table, my cheek resting against my palm as I watched him cook.

He was half humming half singing along to the music, and I actually found it kind of soothing. His voice sounded oddly like a radio, which is strange in of itself, but kind of cool.

My brain started to wonder the longer I watched him, and I realized just how utterly strange this is.

I moved into this house yesterday...and now there's a demon cooking lunch in my kitchen.

Or...his kitchen...?

Fuck, our kitchen.

The entire thing is just ridiculous. Not only ridiculous, but it's terrifying. I don't know him, I don't know anything about him.

Other than the fact that he killed people in life.

See, with that being the only information someone has to go off of, it can make life a little stressful.

I hadn't even realized my brows furrowed or the soft pout my lips formed as I lost myself in thought.

Until I jumped sharply when there was a plate sat in front of me.

I looked down at it, blinking. It was food...regular food. I half expected spiders and worms.

I tilted my head, picking up the fork he placed down for me and poking around the pile of hot rice and meat.

It smelled amazing.

But I'm skeptical.

"What is it?" I asked him, looking up to him from my place sitting. He was just standing next to me expectantly.

His black apron said "kiss the cook and die" and I had to reel back the laugh that bubbled up my throat when I read it.

Instead I glared at him and he rolled his eyes, "jambalaya, my mother's recipe," he responded.

He then lifted his hand, swirling his finger around. One of the kitchen chairs pulled out and spun around, allowing him to sit down right next to me.

I glanced from him back to my plate.

I hadn't watched him the whole time...what if he did something to it...

I picked some up on my fork, making his ears perk in anticipation, and then he leaned away when I turned and faced him.

I held it out towards him, a firm expression on my face.

"You first."

He blinked and then chuckled, those golden knives in his mouth showing themselves once again.

"Sweetheart, if it were poisoned it would have no effect on me," he said through his chuckle, "I'm already dead, dear."

Oh...right.

I scoffed, "well...then I'm not eating it unless you can prove to me it's safe," I said, putting the fork down and crossing my arms.

He blew air through his nose in a quick sigh, tapping his fingers on the table.

"Well...I don't know how to do that dear, help me out here," he replied, annoyed.

I thought for a moment, and picked up the fork again, tapping it against the plate.

"Swear."

He scoffed, "you'd take a demon's word to heart? You really are foolish—"

"Swear on your mother."

He froze.

Bingo, I found his pressure point. Mamas boy.

I looked over at him, waiting for his answer, and he quickly shook off his initial shock and put his hand over his heart.

"je jure sur ma chère mère," he said in perfect French. I blinked and looked back at the food. (I swear on my dear mother)

"Ok I recognized the word dear and mother, so I'm just going to assume you swore," I said and picked up some of the food. In all honesty I was just being a brat, I believed him the first time.

I took a bite and chewed slowly. I've never had this before, and I wasn't sure if I was going to like it.

But my eyes lit up, and I did a quick glance at him before taking another bite. He chuckled softly, leaning over slightly to see me better.

"So, I'll take that as a you like it?" He said, amused.

I nodded, unable to speak through my mouthful of food. I swallowed and tried to hold back my smile but couldn't.

"Who knew demons were good cooks?" I teased, and he shrugged.

With that he stood up, going to leave me to my own devices I'm sure.

I watched him, and thought about being alone once more, pursing my lips.

"H-hey!" I called out, cursing my small stutter.

He stopped and turned to face me, resting one hand against the doorframe. I found myself frozen, then, staring into his eyes.

My breath caught and I quickly shook my head.

Being alone is better than being in the company of a killer. That handsome face of his colored me star struck for just a moment, and I need to remind myself of what he is.

A demon. A killer.

I shook my head again, looking back down, "nothing, go," I said quietly, continuing to eat, "and thank you..." I mumbled, almost inaudible.

But he heard me.

"You're welcome...I'll be around," he said, and then melted away into that black smoke.

The silence quickly settled in, and I found myself picking at my food. I took a few more bites, then sighed.

I wonder what he does.

Maybe next time he comes and bothers me I'll try to get a little information out of him. After all, I didn't realize when I moved in here I'd be having a housemate.

I stared down at the little bit of food I had left. With another sigh I picked up the plate and headed to the sink.

I cleared my plate and started scrubbing the dish, and in the process I realized he'd cleaned up after himself.

"Hm..." I made a little surprised noise and my eyebrows raised, "so you do have manners," I mumbled, continuing to clean up.

After I was finished I turned and wiped my hands on a towel, slowly stopping my action when I noticed something taped to the side of my fridge.

I narrowed my eyes and walked over to it, leaning closer to see what it was. The little note was written in that same pretty handwriting that was in the journal.

So I knew who it was from.

But it wasn't exactly a note...it was a recipe.

A quick look over let me know it was the jambalaya recipe he just made, with very detailed instructions.

And then at the bottom there was a little note.

"A young lady shouldn't be eating packaged noodles...I've stocked your pantry and fridge with fresh food.

- A"

My fingers brushed over the note, and a blush rose to my face slowly. I quickly smacked my cheeks, shaking my head.

I growled and threw the little towel down, storming up to my room.

I need a shower.