Page 77

My headache eased off as I laughed, the werewolf healing inside me carrying a big chunk of the pain away.

“I thought Aidan had attacked you,” I said.

He cocked a grin. “Who can blame you?”

I could smell bread. Toasted bread.

“Sorry I woke you.” There was a tall lamp on in the corner, casting extra light across the green-and-yellow kitchen.

Extra sunlight poured through a pretty clean hexagonal window, making this the brightest room I’d seen in the house so far.

I noticed crumbs and a butter dish on the pine worktop. Ah, and there was a loaf of bread on the sink’s draining board.

How the hell was there bread in a house no one used anymore?

My stomach growled at the thought of buttery toast and a big mug of beer. Well, coffee, but I’d take a beer.

“How’s the toast here?” I asked. “Please don’t say alpha wolves love moldy bread.”

Just the thought made me shudder.

“Frozen bread.” He nodded at the chest freezer in the corner below a cuckoo clock. “Still good. Want some toast?”

“Please.”

He pushed his chair back. “Have a seat. Tea? Coffee? Beer?”

Ah, now here we go. “Beer, please.” A hot drink would not steady my nerves the same way a cold beer would.

“It’s in date, too,” he added.

“Even better.”

He plonked two cans of Bluethorn, the most popular beer in the Human Domain, on the table and lit the gas grill.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be up so soon,” he said.

I popped the ring pull on the can. “And I wasn’t expecting shorts and a vest when you said you’d be wearing your grandad’s clothes.”

He chortled, the deepness of it sending small prickles across my skin. “He was a gym junkie.” He slid two slices of frozen bread under the grill.

“Oh. Sorry. That was kind or rude.”

“Don’t be daft.” He faced me, leaning a hip against the worktop. “Butter was frozen, too.”

“It’s a nice kitchen,” I said, feeling a little warmth in my face. “Very countryside.”

Declan’s expression dimmed. “I suppose so.”

I didn’t press him on the issue with his grandad. It wasn’t my business.

“Once you’re ready, we’ll head out,” he declared. “Though you haven’t rested enough for my liking.”

“Sleep and me aren’t vibing.”

“Too much dust?” He checked on the toast. “Lightly done, or packing more of a crunch?”

“Crunch, please.”