THE SPOILED HYBRID.🧛 (MXM) - Chapter 7: Chapter 7

The driver opened the door for Alessia, and the cool evening air rushed in, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers from the nearby garden. Alessia stepped out, his soft blue shorts and oversized sweater making him look even smaller against the backdrop of Drake’s imposing house. The building was massive, with tall windows and a grand entrance that seemed to loom over him. He stared up at it, his green eyes wide with a mix of awe and anxiety.
“James, don’t wait for me,” Alessia said, his voice barely above a whisper. The driver nodded and closed the door, leaving Alessia standing alone in the driveway. He shifted nervously from foot to foot, his hands clutching the strap of his bag tightly. Did Drake live with his parents? The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind until now. What if they were home? What if they didn’t like him? What if—
His thoughts spiraled, and before he knew it, he was turning around, his heart pounding in his chest. This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. He shouldn’t have come. He took a few steps back toward the car, his mind racing with excuses he could give Drake later. *I’m sorry, I forgot something. I’m not feeling well. I—*
“Seriously? Are you really planning to run after reaching my home?” Drake’s voice cut through the silence, warm and amused, and Alessia froze in his tracks. He turned slowly, his cheeks burning with embarrassment, to see Drake leaning casually against the front door, his arms crossed and a playful smirk on his face.
Drake looked effortlessly handsome, as always, his tall frame silhouetted against the soft glow of the porch light. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt and dark jeans, the casual outfit somehow making him look even more striking. His piercing eyes locked onto Alessia’s, and the smaller boy felt his breath catch in his throat.
“I—I wasn’t running,” Alessia stammered, his voice trembling. He quickly looked down at his shoes, unable to meet Drake’s gaze. “I just… I thought maybe this was a bad idea. I didn’t know if your parents were home, and I didn’t want to intrude, and—”
Drake chuckled, the sound low and warm, and pushed off the door to walk toward Alessia. “Relax,” he said, his tone gentle but teasing. “My parents aren’t home. It’s just me. And even if they were, they’d love you. Trust me.”
Alessia’s heart skipped a beat at the words, but he still couldn’t bring himself to look up. “I just… I didn’t want to mess things up,” he admitted softly, his fingers twisting the strap of his bag nervously.
Drake reached out and gently tilted Alessia’s chin up, forcing him to meet his gaze. “You’re not going to mess anything up,” he said, his voice firm but kind. “I invited you here because I want to spend time with you. Okay?”
Alessia nodded, his cheeks still flushed but his nerves slowly settling under Drake’s steady gaze. “Okay,” he whispered.
Drake smiled, his hand dropping to take Alessia’s. “Come on,” he said, tugging him gently toward the house. “I’ll give you the grand tour.”
As Alessia followed Drake inside, his hand warm and reassuring in his, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Touring Drake’s house had been more exhausting than Alessia had anticipated. The sprawling mansion seemed to go on forever, with its high ceilings, grand staircases, and countless rooms. By the time they finished the tour—which had taken a solid 45 minutes—Alessia was thoroughly worn out. He sank into a plush chair in the living room, his legs aching and his head spinning from trying to keep up with Drake’s energetic explanations.
“My parents are rarely home,” Drake said casually as he leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed. “They travel a lot for work, so I spend most of my time here alone. It’s kind of nice, actually. No one to bother me.”
Alessia nodded, his green eyes scanning the room. “I live with my sister, Alysa,” he said softly. “Our parents are in another country. They’ve been there for a while now.”
Drake raised an eyebrow, his expression softening. “Must be tough,” he said, his voice gentle. “But at least you have Alysa, right?”
Alessia smiled faintly. “Yeah. She’s… a lot, but I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
Drake pushed off the doorway and walked over to Alessia, extending a hand. “Come on,” he said with a grin. “Let’s head to the kitchen. I’ll make you something to eat. You look like you need it after all that walking.”
Alessia took Drake’s hand, his heart skipping a beat at the contact. As they made their way to the kitchen, Drake’s fingers lingered in his for just a moment longer than necessary, sending a warm shiver up Alessia’s arm. The kitchen was spacious and modern, with gleaming countertops and state-of-the-art appliances. Drake leaned against the counter, his piercing eyes fixed on Alessia.
“So, what’s your favorite food?” Drake asked, his tone light but curious. “I’d like to make you something you’ll actually enjoy.”
Alessia froze, his mind racing. *Your blood,* he thought immediately, the words almost slipping out before he could stop himself. He had been told that the blood of one’s mate was the most intoxicating, the most satisfying. And Drake’s scent—rich, warm, and utterly irresistible—had been driving him crazy since the moment they met. The craving was almost unbearable, a constant ache in the back of his throat that he had to fight to ignore.
But he couldn’t say that. He couldn’t risk scaring Drake away. So he forced a smile and shrugged, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. “Ahh, I can eat anything. I don’t really have a favorite food.”
Drake tilted his head, his gaze narrowing slightly as if he could sense Alessia’s hesitation. “Come on,” he said, his tone teasing. “There’s gotta be something you love. Pizza? Pasta? Chocolate? Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who doesn’t care about food.”
Alessia laughed nervously, his fingers twisting the hem of his sweater. “I mean, I like pasta,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But really, I’m not picky.”
Drake studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he smiled, the tension in the air dissipating as quickly as it had come. “Pasta it is, then,” he said, turning toward the fridge. “I’ll whip up something simple. You just sit back and relax.”
As Drake busied himself in the kitchen, Alessia sank into a chair at the breakfast bar, his mind still racing. He couldn’t stop thinking about Drake’s blood, about how much he wanted to taste it. The scent was everywhere, filling the room and making it hard to focus. He clenched his hands into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he tried to push the thoughts away.
“Hey,” Drake’s voice broke through his thoughts, and Alessia looked up, startled. Drake was standing in front of him, a bowl of pasta in his hands. “You okay? You looked like you were a million miles away.”
Alessia forced a smile, his cheeks flushing. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said quickly. “Just… tired, I guess.”
Drake set the bowl down in front of him, his expression softening. “Well, eat up,” he said, his tone gentle. “You’ll feel better.”
As Alessia picked up his fork, his hands still trembling slightly, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. Drake was being so kind, so thoughtful, and here he was, hiding this huge secret from him. But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside. He would enjoy this moment, this quiet intimacy, for as long as he could.