Oracle Days

Chapter Twenty Nine

Elias dismounted the bike with confident ease, stabilizing it as I cautiously followed. Removing my helmet, I felt my already messy bun become even more disheveled from the ride. Frustrated, I decided to release my hair, letting it cascade freely over my shoulders. Elias unexpectedly took my hand, guiding me toward Abella. His touch was both firm and tender, sending a flutter of nerves and excitement through me. Stepping into the warmth of the restaurant, the contrast to the cool night air enveloping us was striking.

Inside, Elias released my hand as we approached the waiter standing near the entrance. "Right this way, Mr. Steele," the waiter said with a courteous nod, and for the first time, I realised I had never heard Elias's last name before. It suddenly made sense why the pack was referred to as Silver, a name that felt fitting.

I followed Elias's towering figure to a table at the back, enveloped by glass walls that offered a breathtaking view of the ocean. A single candle flickered in the centre, casting a warm glow over the elegant setup, complete with multiple sets of silverware meticulously arranged beside each plate. I couldn't help but stare at the array, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the setting.

"Is there a problem?" Elias asked, his voice breaking through my thoughts as he raised an eyebrow, his gaze fixed on me.

I hesitated, feeling out of place amidst the array of unfamiliar cutlery. Determined to figure it out myself, I shook my head, declining Elias's unspoken offer of assistance. Noticing my resolve, he smirked, his eyes gleaming with amusement at my predicament.

"Start from the outside and work your way in during the meal," Elias says, his tone tinged with amusement and his deep voice resonating through the quiet ambiance.

I tried to smooth out my wrinkled skirt from the bike ride as Elias picked up his menu, his movements precise and controlled. Mimicking him, I glanced over the elegant words printed in Spanish, only to feel a wave of anxiety wash over me. "Fuck," I muttered quietly to myself, trying to hide my unease. Elias, sensing my distress, set his menu down with a curious look in his eyes.

"You don't know Spanish?" he asked, surprise colouring his voice.

"What made you think I did?" I shot back defensively, feeling a touch of embarrassment.

"Don't you take Spanish at the Academy?" A playful smile curved his lips, his tone teasing.

"I may have been more focused on sketching than conjugating verbs," I admitted with a sheepish grin, hoping to lighten the moment with a touch of self-deprecating humour.

Elias chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "So, you're an artist who prefers to communicate through visuals rather than words," he remarked, his voice carrying a hint of admiration.

I grinned, relieved by Elias's understanding tone. "Yeah, I guess you could say that," I replied with a shy smile. "I've always found drawing easier than languages."

Elias smiled warmly, his gaze thoughtful. "No worries, I'll take care of it. How about some bolognese? It's usually a safe bet," he suggested, his tone reassuring.

As the waiter returned, Elias glanced at him with a nod of assurance. "We'll have two plates of bolognese, please," he ordered, his voice calm and decisive. After the waiter walked away, Elias leaned back in his chair, his gaze returning to me.

Outside, the beach stretched endlessly into the darkness, with waves rhythmically crashing against the shore. The tranquil and mesmerising scene provided a stark contrast to the weighty conversation Elias was about to initiate. I averted my gaze, finding comfort in the serene view, uncertain about what he would say next but feeling a blend of anticipation and curiosity.