nineteen
Thurl’s kitchen was a chef’s dream. Not that I was a great cook, but Nanna was clearly in her element.
It was hard to pry myself from Thurl’s bed. It was as comfortable as the sweatshirt I’d stolen from an ex-boyfriend in college. I wouldn’t even need covers with Thurl to keep me warm.
Sir Purrs-a-lot’s irritated meow broke the bed’s trance. I set up water and a litterbox before releasing him and Catzilla. They both took up their mission of thoroughly inspecting Thurl’s bedroom while we made our way to the kitchen.
Nanna stood in front of the open pantry door, a dreamy look on her face. From what I could tell, both ovens were stuffed full of cookie trays. Apparently, she decided Thurl’s size meant he needed three dozen cookies alone.
“How many cookies are you making?” Visions of going door-to-door with buckets of cookies gave me goosebumps.
She turned around and took in Thurl’s form with a wave of her hand. “Enough for him and the rest of his pack. Don’t worry, I doubt we’ll have leftovers.” She tapped a finger against her lips. “We might not have enough. I should have made more.” She grabbed Thurl’s arm. “How many are in your pack?”
“Pack?” My eyes ping-ponged between them until I got dizzy and had to stop.
“Of course, dear. Thurl is clearly of the canine persuasion, and I’ve never known a werewolf without a pack.”
“He’s not a werewolf, Nanna.” My hand met air behind me as I searched for someplace to plant my butt. She gave me a look that clearly said, no shit, Sherlock.
Thurl scooped me up before my ass hit the tile and deposited me in a cushioned chair.
“Wyrfang, actually.”
Nanna exclaimed in glee. “I’ve never heard of you! Oh, this is wonderful. Tell me all about your breed.”
Thurl’s tongue appeared and disappeared several times as he licked his lips. It was confusing to watch, then became mesmerizing when I realized what I was looking at.
His tongue was forked .
I shook my head to clear the rapid mental slide show that discovery initiated and sent a warning glare to Nanna. “I don’t think he wants to talk about it.”
I’d noticed whenever anything about his past came up, he became uncomfortable. I’d been trying to avoid asking the million questions I had, wanting to wait until he was ready.
His head drooped between his shoulders and his chest rose and fell. “No, it’s all right.”
His stare pinned me, spread my imaginary wings, and framed me in a display case.
“I am one of six wyrfangs. We were created to be…”
He swallowed and I wanted to hug him, but I couldn’t move.
“An elite fighting force. Scientists used werewolf and dragon DNA to craft the perfect weapon for their military contractors. We spent most of our lives in a laboratory, under the constant watch of cameras, performing in dozens of experiments to prove our capabilities.”
Nanna and I both wrapped him in a hug. She let go first.
“You poor thing. Call your brothers.” She swiped her eyes with the edge of an apron, because of course she packed an apron in her go bag. She didn’t own any appropriate ones. Thankfully, that one was relatively mild, reading “Cheese Slut” in a pretty cursive across her boobs. “What do you like to eat? I’ll make something you can have after cookies.”
He tilted his head. “Cookies are dessert?”
I nodded. “Yes, but Nanna always has dessert first.”
“And after. It would be a shame if you died before dessert, or before you could have a little something sweet after dinner.”
“Does that happen often? Humans dying during a meal?”
Nanna waved her hands. “No, but better to be safe than sorry, right?”
I leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Just go with it. You’ll learn it’s almost impossible to understand her—or win an argument against her, for that matter.”
Nanna swirled a spatula in our general direction. “Go on then. Invite your brothers to dinner. I’m guessing meat? Of course it’s meat.”
She started pulling the entire contents of his refrigerator onto the counters, along with half of the things from his pantry.
“Let’s go before she kicks us out.”
“But I thought she wanted me to invite my brothers?”
“Oh, she does. She won’t want us in the kitchen while she cooks, though.”
He tossed a worried look over his shoulder as we stepped outside. I patted his arm.
“It’s okay. She is a fantastic cook, and one of her favorite things is feeding people. It’s one of her love languages.”
“Love language?”
I giggled. “Yeah, it’s a saying that started a few years ago when someone wrote a book about five love languages. Now it’s used to show any way someone shows their love, or prefers to receive it.”
“What are the five love languages?”
He looked ready to pull out a pen and paper to take notes, and my middle went gooey. “I know one is physical touch and another is gifts, but I can’t remember the rest. To be honest, I never read the book.”
“What is your love language?”
His eyes seemed to bore through me and I would have sworn they flared brighter. A trill ran up my spine and I clamped my thighs together. “Um. Cats, I suppose. Love my cats, love me.”
His eyes closed like he committed it to memory. He looked away before opening them. “Will you come with me to the common hall?”
“To invite your brothers to dinner?”
“Yes.”
I smiled up at him. “Sure.”
He took off down a path and I trotted to catch up to him. I tried to sound casual as I asked, “So, what is your love language?”
He spun around and dropped into a crouch in front of me, his eyes definitely blazing red, the scarred one a touch dimmer than the other.
“You.”
His voice was deeper than I’d ever heard, and the growl of it washed over my skin like a rough caress. I swallowed hard. I reached for him without thought and he gently took my hand in his giant one, curling his fingers around mine.
How did such a massive, deadly creature become so gentle?
“We are all gentle.”
I startled, not realizing I’d asked out loud.
“Except for maybe Roul.” He snickered. “But Jade?”
“Hmm?”
“Make no mistake. The scientists did their jobs well. We are killers. And I will kill anyone who threatens you.”
I was going to have to carry a spare pair of panties unless I wanted to walk around in wet ones all day.