His tail flicked once. He tucked his nose under it and started drifting to sleep.
I returned to my desk and pulled my regular experiments back toward me. The bioluminescence extraction still needed final documentation. The crystallization study required another temperature adjustment.
All work I could do while I waited for my grandmother’s answer.
The pen hovered beside my notebook, ready, and I started dictating.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
FERAL
Iwas up before dawn. Again.
It didn’t matter how little I’d slept. My body had stopped pretending rest was coming. I washed, then dressed in the dark, careful not to disturb Victoria still asleep in our bed, Acorn a small lump somewhere in the tangle of blankets by her feet.
Coward’s logic, and I knew it. I’d stayed away from the bed last night until I heard her breathing slow into sleep. After what happened before, I didn’t trust myself to climb in beside her and not beg her for more.
So I’d paced. And sat in the chair by the fire, pretending to read if she happened to get up and look my way. Then paced again. Eventually I’d lain down on top of the covers, still fully clothed, and stared at the ceiling until the sky started to lighten.
Now I stood in the sitting area, looking at the breakfast tray I’d gone to the kitchen to supervise and bring back here—to Helen’s sly smile and not-at-all-subtle directives about romance.
The tea remained at the correct temperature. The rolls were still warm and waited for butter and honey. I’d gone out to the gardens and picked fresh berries myself. Collected eggs and boiled them myself while I swore the kitchen staff snickered.
And flowers. I’d picked them from the hillside just after sunrise, collecting wild honeysuckle and late-blooming columbine. And I’d put them in water this time, though in the same urn I’d used before.
Should I find a real vase?
I stared at the urn with something close to irritation. How had I not understood that flowers needed water? I’d brought her cut stems and placed them carefully in the urn like a ritual offering, and watched them wilt by midday. It hadn’t occurred to me that this was a solvable problem.
The bedroom creaked open the space of a hand.
Acorn emerged, his tail high, moving with the posture of someone who owned everything he surveyed, which was probably true. Even my wolf had stopped gnashing his fangs at the thought of his alpha role being usurped.
He scampered over to the table and leaped up onto a chair, peering over the edge to study the breakfast tray with what I could only describe as judgment. His paw snapped out, and he snagged a roll, dragging it toward himself.
I shifted my feet and scowled.
He glanced my way, his claws embedded in the roll still sitting on the table.
His whiskers twitched. I was fairly certain he was calling me something uncomplimentary in whatever language squirrels used when Victoria wasn’t translating.
I’d prepared for this. Without breaking eye contact, I walked over and took the small bowl off the tray, setting it on the floor, off to the side where we wouldn’t accidentally kick it.
“Hazelnuts,” I said. “Dried apple, seeds.”
Acorn regarded the bowl. Then me. Then the bowl again.
He tucked the roll against his chest and hopped down from the chair, settling next to the bowl with an air of someone accepting tribute from a slow-learning subordinate.
It was all I could do to hold back my smile. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
The bedroom door opened fully, and Victoria stepped out, already dressed, her hair pulled back in a way that suggested she’d been awake longer than I’d thought. Her expression was guarded, that careful neutrality I was starting to recognize as her default when she wasn’t sure what reaction she could expect.
She saw me standing beside the table, saw the breakfast tray, and her face softened a little. I suspected she’d also noticed the fresh flowers in the urn.
Neither of us said anything. She came over to the table, sat, and I did the same, pouring her tea. Like I hadn’t spent an hour arranging breakfast. As if my chest didn’t feel tight every time she looked happy with what I’d done for her.
“Thank you,” she said.
