CHAPTER19
Lore
I’msurprised to find Cyrus sleeping on the couch next to Modeus and me when I wake up. I thought he would sleep the entire day, but he’s naked with his head leaning against my leg.
I make the slightest movement, and his eyes snap open. Seeing I already woke him, I ease off Modeus’ lap. My knees are stiff as hell from falling asleep like I did, but there was nothing I could do. I think he actually fucked me into a slumber, or maybe even a coma.
The blanket I gave to Cyrus slips off my back and hits the floor. I bend to snatch it up, but I’m torn on what to do with it. Both men could use it, but Modeus is the only one still sleeping. Cyrus is watching me like I might bolt from the room at any second.
The gargoyle sits up. He’s as unbothered by his nakedness as I am, but modesty is a fairly rare occurrence in our world, so that’s not surprising.
“Are you hungry?” I ask while laying the blanket over Modeus. “I have your clothes. I probably should have left them with you. Are you freezing?” I ramble.
Cyrus reaches up and runs his hand over the top of his head, smoothing his light hair, while gripping his beard at the same time with the other hand to do the same. It draws my attention to his arms and chest. He’s thick everywhere, strong and sturdy. I’d wager his biceps could rival a bear shifter’s, and that just makes me all warm and fuzzy. “Thank you for taking care of me. Sorry about earlier.”
“You pushed yourself too far,” I answer, finally allowing myself to feel the concern that dwelled in my stomach when he passed out.
“Maybe, but it got me here.” He meets my gaze. That single rebuttal tells me he might risk himself again if he felt like the benefit outweighed the cost. I don’t like that idea very much. I really don’t want to bump heads with him and make demands though, because I don’t even know him yet.
“I’ll grab your clothes.” I turn, but before I can take a step, I feel his chilled palm on my arm, stopping me.
“It wasn’t an impulse I could ignore. I didn’t even understand it at the time, but I knew I had to come the moment I heard about Harlow.” His fingers release my arm one by one, as if he had to force himself to let go.
I turn back to face him. Maybe I am rushing to judge him. “I just don’t want to see you like that again,” I admit.
A flush steals over his cheeks. “It’s not normal for me. I’m not usually so weak, if you’re worried about that,” he defends. I embarrassed him. This isn’t starting out so well.
“I don’t think that, Cyrus. You’re” —I wave my hand in front of his body, thinking,Built for hard labor, thicker than a snicker—“clearly very strong and capable.”
His hands shoot to the center of his body, but not fast enough to cover the twitch of his dick. My eyes lift to his. He’s the sweetest thing on the planet if he thinks he needs to hide his erection from me. His cheeks are all red again, and his fair skin is so easy to read.
“I’ll grab your clothes.” I don’t want to embarrass him more than it seems I already have. I don’t bother trying to hide my smile as I dash up the stairs to my room. Egan is asleep on the bed with an arm thrown over his eyes, blocking out the dim light from the setting sun.
Instead of my riding gear, I opt for some leggings and a long shirt. Cyrus’ clothes are still folded where I left them, and when I bring them to my nose, I notice his scent still lingers. I wonder how long it will be before I’ll be able to smell him on my sheets.
Cyrus is at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for my return. When I hand him his clothes, our fingers brush, and that connection that formed yesterday springs to life, giving me a little zap of recognition.
Keeping his eyes on mine, he drops the bundle right at my feet and picks up the item on top—his shirt. He has it over his head before he’s even done crouching, and then he’s reaching for his heavy denim pants next. His feet remain bare, and I remember I tucked his socks into his boots. They are still upstairs, if I had to guess. I like this look though. He seems like he’s at home.
Fuck, my head is a strange place. A week ago, I would have laughed in the face of anyone who told me I’d be living with three men and loving it. Fucking three men isplausible, but this even blows my mind.
“Food?” I croak out.
He nods eagerly.
“This is the kitchen.” I wave my arm needlessly as we enter the room. I don’t know why he has me so flustered. “I haven’t had much time to shop, not that I do all that much cooking anyway.” I don’t want him to think I’m some Suzy Homemaker. “I can make peanut butter toast?” I offer.
“I like to cook,” he tells me.
“You do?” I don’t know if my shocked tone is because I believe him or because I don’t.
“Yeah.” He shrugs his heavy shoulders and looks at the ground for a second. Oh Lord, he might just kill me, he’s so fucking sweet.
“That’s amazing. Maybe you could cook for us sometime?” I feel like putting my finger under his chin to make him look up at me, but his eyes meet mine and a wave of heat washes over me. He may be sweet as a cherry fucking pie, but he’s also gorgeous.
“Anything you want. If I don’t know how to make it, I’ll learn,” he promises.
That’s it.
