As a kid, he’d spent every night on a rock-hard mattress without it causing any problems. Back then, this level of discomfort wouldn’t even have merited a wince.
That had been quite a life, one that was strict even by unicorn standards. No hot water in the shower: cold was more bracing and would help wake him up and prepare him for the day ahead. No sweets aside from birthday cake once a year: they were an unnecessary frivolity. No jokes. No loud noises. No mud on his clothes. No crying. And then they’d wondered why he had so much trouble making friends.
They’d decided it was because he was too advanced for his age, like it couldn’t possibly have anything to do with how humorless and joyless they’d made him.
He could tell Iris thought his parents had messed up by leaving him in the Council’s care, and he wasn’t entirely sure he disagreed with her. Like he’d said, he wouldn’t do it to any kid of his.
Any kid of theirs?
He shook the thought off. He shouldn’t let himself get used to a future that might not happen.
Anyway, he would never turn any kid of his over to the Council, even if they politely hinted that it was his duty. But he hadn’t had a terrible childhood, had he? Just a lonely and uncomfortable one. And it wasn’t entirely the Council’s fault that he’d turned out the way he had at first. No one had put a gun to his head andmadehim be a self-righteous asshole who couldn’t see beyond the tip of his own upturned nose.
Look at Iris: she fulfilled the Council’s gilded requirements for perfection, and she wasn’t a jerk. She didn’t need the world to teach her a lesson about sometimes following her heart instead of the rules.
But if stifling herself to meet the Silver Council’s demands hadn’t left her hardened, the way it had him, it had still hurt her. There was something undeniably sad about her wide amber eyes.
He wondered what her story was. She’d promised to tell him today.
Until she did, he would try to make himself let it go. He didn’t want to take her apart in his head like some kind of intricate puzzle. She wasn’t a case he needed to solve.
Of course, he was a little bit lovesick, so he wasn’t good for thinking about much else. Iris was about it. And while he could keep his professional instincts at bay, he was having a harder time dealing with the pure, unadulterated lust that swept over him when he remembered that clingy gold dress.
And that was another road he didn’t want to go down without her. What he needed was a distraction.
He put his stiff muscles to work and forced himself up off the sofa. He was pretty suresomethingin him made a loud creaking sound in the process.
Aren’t shifters supposed to be immune to this kind of thing?his unicorn said, wincing on his behalf.
Keith shrugged.Unfortunately, even shifter genes can’t protect you from perilous sofas.
I will fight the sofa,it offered.I will trample it with my hooves and gouge it with my horn.
Please don’t,Keith said, alarmed.I don’t think Iris would like that very much.
His unicorn was receptive to that argument. It decided it would let the sofa live, though Keith had the feeling it was going to be keeping an eye on it.
He took a quick shower—letting the hot, thundering water massage some of the stiffness out of him—toweled his hair dry, and decided to make Iris breakfast.
He assessed her kitchen, decided anyone who owned a waffle-maker probably liked waffles, and set to work on a batter he could stick in the fridge until he heard her alarm go off. There was something relaxing about just being in her kitchen, even though he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. It was a warm, welcoming room, with rustic red tiles and plenty of sunlight, but he didn’t think it was the décor.
For some reason, he was just comfortable in any place that felt like hers. They hadn’t even really kissed yet, and he already felt a kind of bone-deep contentment at the idea that he was here with her in such an ordinary way. As strange as it sounded, it was anexcitedcontentment, too, and one so new that he kept stopping to marvel at it.
I’m here. She wants me here. She trusts me to be here. I’m here.
He had just put the coffee on when he heard the chirp of her alarm. He started pouring the waffle batter, and the repetitive beep-beep of the clock changed to the orchestral sound of a yawning Iris shuffling out of her bedroom. Her slippers squeaked slightly against the floor.
“Morning,” Keith said, turning around with a smile.
“Mmrwah,” said Iris—or something to that effect.
It was a good thing she was at a loss for words, because the low, scalloped neckline of her dusky rose pajama top was reducing him tommrwahtoo. She looked both absurdly cute—she’d wrapped up her hair in a rainbow scarf, and her slippers and bathrobe both had unicorn silhouettes embroidered on them—and absurdly, irresistibly ...mmrwah. The flimsy cotton sleep-shorts only highlighted how long her legs were.
Her skin looked so soft.
“Uh, waffles?” Keith said.
It arguably came out more likemmrwahffles, but he couldn’t help that. Anyway, she’d started it.
