His long fingers curl around it a little too tight and some breaks off and falls onto the ground.
“Five-second rule,” I say, swiping it up and holding it out to him.
He brings the Pop-Tart up to his nose and sniffs.
The entire thing is really fucking fun to watch. He takes a tentative bite, his face scrunching up as he tastes it.
Then his tongue lolls out, and he sputters.
The laugh that escapes me is loud, almost like a honk, and he moves quickly to the sink to wash it down. I happily munch on mine while he sips from the faucet, his tongue curling out and lapping at the water.
When he stands up again, the Pop-Tart is crumbled in his palm, and I lament not being able to eat it. But it was totally worth it for his reaction. It was like feeding a baby a lemon for the first time.
“Oh my god, that was funny. Did it taste bad?” I move toward him and swipe a crumb from his cheek.
Cielo lets out a long breath, his tail moving around his waist.
I reach out and grab his hand, attempting to help him wipe the food from his palm, when I hear the snick of a door and a low, angry hum.
Then I hear the voice I’ve wanted to hear all day, only he doesn’t sound pleased to see me. “What is going on?”
My head whips to the side, and I see Rathyn hovering in the kitchen doorway, eyes literally glowing faintly under his heavy lashes. His chest is heaving with breath.
His rage is almost tangible, and it takes me a second to realize I can feel it pulsing in my head, not just through the room.
“Relax,” I start, but he lets out a low, intense growl.
“Release him.”
I don’t realize immediately he’s speaking to me, but then I get a flash in my head—a vision of my fingers wrapped aroundCielo’s wrist, and I immediately let him go. The second I do, Cielo takes several steps away from me and bows his head.
“Rath—”
He ignores me entirely, stalking across the room, footfalls so heavy I’m afraid his claws are going to tear up the kitchen tiles. He’s on Cielo between two short breaths, fingers around his wrist so tight, I’m afraid he’s literally going to rip his hand off.
As angry as he is, that’s a possibility.
“Dude. Let him go.”
Rathyn’s head whips over, eyes locking on mine. “You would defend your actions?”
“I was helping him clean up.”
“You are mine.” The words aren’t really spoken. They’re sung—growling, melodic, kind of beautiful in his outrage.
Holding up both hands in surrender, I take a step closer. “Let’s get something straight here. I’ve signed a contract to be your cum bank, but I am my own fucking person.”
“You are mycompanion,” he hisses, tightening his grip on Cielo. The other monster isn’t fighting back, but I can see from his face that he’s in pain.
Guilt lashes through me because this isn’t fair to him. I was the one who forced him to go out. I was the one who convinced him to try the human food he hated.
I was the one who was touching him.
And shit. If Rathyn digs into my head and sees how Cielo carried me in the rain, he really is going to kill him.
“I’m my own fucking person, and if I want to help the guy you sent to babysit me clean up a mess, I’m going to do that. You don’t get to walk in here and hurt him because you’re jealous.”
“Jealous,” he repeats a little more calmly. I can tell from his tone that he doesn’t know the word.
