The Earth Shook
Thewordsechoaroundmy tiny kitchen.
I’m getting my throne back.
Hex really just said that. How is this my life? How is anything like this, anything to do with my life? It doesn’t make sense.
There is a prince in my kitchen. A prince who wants his throne back. A prince who needs to feed on me so he has enough power to do such princely things.
I take a deep breath. Okay, time to focus on the practicalities. The logistics, if you will. This may be a lot, and out of my league, but my part in it is very small and remarkably straightforward.
It’s no different from the Prime Minister walking into Coffeelicious. I still just need to make the latte. Except I’m the latte. Which is actually easier if you think about it. Nothing at all to get stressed about.
“Right!” I say as I slap my thigh, because for some reason I’ve suddenly become incredibly British. Even more British than I actually am. It must be the stress.
I cough awkwardly. “I guess you need feeding, then. Feeding, feeding. Not…” I trail off and gesture at the table. “Curry.” I finish lamely.
A grin spreads across Hex’s face. A deeply unnerving one. One that seems to light up the room despite the fact he is a shadow.
“Are you inviting me to your bed, My Love?”
Great. First his grin lights up the room, now my blush is providing the heating.
“Um… yes. But I need to shower first!”
With that dazzlingly sexy and witty reply, I turn on my heels and flee.
In the shower, I give myself a stern talking-to.
“Keep it together, Adam,” I tell the white tiles. The white tiles that are in desperate need of regrouting. It’s been on my to-do list forever. Maybe today is the day, that way I won’t have to leave the bathroom and face Hex after my profoundly epic prat-ness.
I sigh heavily. It’s a terrible idea. Not the least because I don’t have any grout.
Besides, it’s fine. For some deeply inexplicable reason, Hex doesn’t seem to mind that I can be a complete prat. He doesn’t grimace when I’m being awkward. No, he isn’t reasonable like that. Every time I’m being an idiot, he finds it adorable. Endearing. As if my distinct lack of cool is an attractive quality.
He really isn’t from this world.
Or maybe he just has to put up with me because he needs what only I can give him.
I turn the water off, wrap a towel around my waist, and leave the bathroom.
The kitchen is dark and empty. Illuminated softly by the streetlight streaming through the window. The dishes have been done, and the table and counters wiped down.
My eyebrows rise. Wow. Amazing sex and he does the dishes? Maybe he has been a figment of my imagination all along?
I shake my head. No, Hex is very real. Whatever else I might be uncertain of, I’m certain of that.
I pad down the hallway. The living room is also dark and empty. I open the door to the bedroom. It’s empty and dark. Silent. Where is he?
Oh no. Please don’t tell me I actually scared him off by offering myself as dessert.
My gaze drops down. Down to a pair of glowing red eyes under the bed.
I yelp and jump approximately six feet in the air. I cover my chest with my hand in an effort to keep my heart roughly where it is supposed to be. My leap of fright seems to have dislodged my towel, and now I’m awkwardly holding it in place with my other hand.
“What the hell are you doing!” I exclaim.
“Reminiscing,” says Hex calmly.
