I jolted awake at the sound of Mal’s voice echoing through my apartment, the door closing, followed by the rustling of bags, and footsteps heading toward the kitchen. I even heard him actually whistling.
He’d only been sleeping here for two days and he was already acting like we were a fifty-year married couple who’d been domestically blissful for decades.
I groaned and rolled over to check my phone. Three in the afternoon. I’d been asleep for hours after this morning’s absolute disaster.
This morning. God, this morning.
I’d woken up at dawn to weird sounds coming from the living room. Scraping, splashing, movement. My first thought was that someone had broken in and was ransacking the place. My second thought was that I was about to get murdered while pregnant and that seemed deeply annoying considering everything else I’d been through.
I’d grabbed the baseball bat I kept next to my bed and crept out of the bedroom, ready to defend myself and my unborn baby from whatever psychopath had broken into my apartment.
But it wasn’t a burglar.
It was Mal, on his hands and knees, scrubbing my kitchen floor with the kind of intensity usually reserved for crime scene cleanup.
At five in the goddamn morning.
I’d stood there in the doorway in my oversized sleep shirt with my mouth hanging open because he wasn’t just cleaning randomly. He was using the right products. The wood floor cleaner that specifically said “for hardwood only” on the bottle. The granite polish for the counters. The glass cleaner with the special formula for streak-free windows. He even had the microfiber cloths that Mrs. Santos had convincedmeto buy last year.
“How do you know what products to use?” I’d asked because this was too bizarre not to question.
He’d looked up at me with this ridiculously proud smile that made him look about twelve years old instead of an ancient werewolf king. “I saw Mrs. Santos at the store yesterdaywhen I was learning about human commerce. She gave me a comprehensive list of what to purchase and detailed instructions on proper usage for each product.” Then he’d pulled out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket covered in neat handwriting that was definitely not his. “See? She wrote down which products go on which surfaces and in what order to apply them. She was very thorough and insisted I take notes while she explained the difference between disinfecting and sanitizing.”
I’d been so completely speechless at the image of a werewolf king getting cleaning lessons from my seventy-year-old neighbor that I’d just turned around and walked back to my bedroom without saying a word. Climbed into bed. Pulled the covers over my head.
And apparently fallen back asleep until his cheerful announcement woke me up again.
I dragged myself out of bed with all the grace of a beached whale that had given up on returning to the ocean. My back ached in three different places. My ankles were swollen to the size of grapefruits. The baby was doing what felt like kickboxing practice against my ribs. Every movement was an effort. Every position was uncomfortable.
Pregnancy was such a magical journey. Truly a blessing. I couldn’t wait to never be pregnant again.
I waddled out of the bedroom toward the kitchen. The smell hit me first and I had to admit it was impressive. Clean and fresh with hints of lemon and something floral. Whatever products he’d used had made the whole apartment smell like one of those fancy cleaning commercials where women in pristine white clothing laugh while doing housework.
Mal was standing at the kitchen counter unpacking bags with a smile so bright it could’ve powered the entire building for a month. His hair was slightly messy. He was wearing jeans that fit him too well and a plain shirt that showed off his arms. He looked proud of himself.
“What’s going on here?” I grunted because I’d just woken up and pregnancy made me extra grumpy when my sleep was interrupted.
He turned to face me and his smile got even bigger. “I hunted dinner for us! Fresh game to provide proper nutrition for you and our pup.”
Then he gestured proudly to the counter where two dead chickens and a rabbit were laid out in all their recently-deceased glory. Still with feathers. Still with fur. Still very obviously animals that had been alive and hopping around this morning before he’d killed them.
My stomach lurched violently.
I didn’t even try to make it to the bathroom. Just ran and barely got the toilet seat up before I threw up everything I’d eaten in the past twenty-four hours. Which wasn’t much because pregnancy nausea was still a thing, but it felt endless anyway.
Footsteps pounded behind me. Then Mal was there holding my hair back with one hand and rubbing circles on my back with the other. “Are you alright? Is it the baby? Should I call a healer? Should I take you to a hospital?”
“Why would you kill a wild animal and bring it into my apartment?” I gasped between heaves. “We have stores! Actualstores with meat that’s already dead and packaged and definitely not staring at me with glassy eyes!”
Silence. Then his voice came out small and genuinely ashamed. “I thought you would appreciate fresh game. In Ravenor, hunting for your mate is considered the highest sign of devotion and providing. The ability to bring down large prey demonstrates strength and capability as a partner.”
I felt a sharp pang of guilt even through my nausea. He wasn’t being an idiot on purpose. He was trying his absolute best to prove himself. It wasn’t his fault his kingdom was stuck in what was essentially the medieval era and hadn’t discovered the miracle of refrigeration and grocery stores.
I rinsed my mouth and turned to face him while still sitting on the bathroom floor because standing seemed like too much effort. “Get rid of those. Please. All of them. We’re going to the grocery store like normal people and buying normal pre-killed meat.”
“Of course. I am deeply sorry. I did not mean to make you sick.” He looked so genuinely upset that my guilt intensified to uncomfortable levels. “I will dispose of them immediately and clean any mess.”
“It’s fine. Just go do it now before I throw up again.”
