Mila

The food smelled wonderful.

She knew that, on a basic level. Logic told her that she loved everything about what Pierce was making for them. Even some part of her brain accepted it and was salivating at the prospect.

But that part was firmly locked away for the moment, and she’d learned from a lot of hard practice that it wouldn’t be allowed out until something else happened first. So instead of trying to be something she wasn’t, she dozed lightly against the cupboard like she did most of the rare mornings she spent at home.

The fumes hit her first, her nostrils twitching as they slowly inhaled.

Almost there.

The stream of water slowed, and then at last the machine gave off a little ding to let her know it was done.

Finally.

She’d have said the word out loud, but her mouth would only do one thing just then, and it wasn’t speak.

It also most definitely was not what it had done the last time she was in the kitchen. Blearily Mila swatted a cupboard open and snagged a mug. Forcing herself just a little more awake, she carefully grabbed the pot and began to pour the fresh coffee into her favorite mug. It wasn’t anything special, but it had a unicorn on it, and Mila may or may not have had a secret obsession with unicorns.

There was a reason she hadn’t given Pierce a tour of the upstairs of her house.

Blowing on the coffee, she took another deep sniff, just the scent alone helping to wake her up. A few moments later she judged it cool enough to drink, and the first sip of her coffee—black and unaltered, just the way she loved it—slid down her throat.

Mila knew she was considered a heathen outcast to most coffee drinkers, but this was just the way she liked it best, and nobody was going to change her. They’d tried, and found their efforts pointless.

“Ahh,” she said, the first intelligible sound that had come out of her mouth. Part of her vaguely recalled speaking to Pierce, but only barely.

“Feeling better?” the towering shifter asked as he arranged the food on the plate.

Mila was too obsessed with having another few dozen sips before she actually focused on it.

“Hold that thought,” she said, and took another sip. Then another.

The caffeine was rushing through her system now, unlocking one part of her after another from the deep freeze of sleep.

Sip.

“Yes,” she said, finally looking up to meet his eyes. “Actually, I am now starting to feel better.”

“I can tell. You’ve gone from corpse, to zombie, and now you’re halfway to human again. What a transformation,” he joked.

Mila wasn’t awake enough to laugh, but she did bestow a smile upon him, letting Pierce know she found it humorous and wasn’t insulted. Her face in the morning could definitely give off that vibe if Mila wasn’t careful, she’d learned.

“You made breakfast?” she asked, realizing the instant she spoke how dumb the question sounded.

But Pierce just laughed. “Finally got enough caffeine to come to that conclusion did you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Maybe.”

“Good timing,” he said, lifting plates into his hands and turning on the spot. “Because breakfast is ready.” He moved past her, careful to maintain as much distance as possible she noted.

If only we could have done that last night…

Pierce then set the plates on opposite ends of the table, once again giving her as much space from him as possible.

Does he really want to be around me that little? Have I lost so much respect in his eyes that he can’t stand to be near me?

Mila hung her head and headed over to the table. “Thank you,” she said, trying to keep any emotion from her voice.

Just blame it on the lack of sleep, that’ll be better.

“I’m just a disaster in the morning until I’ve had caffeine. Never been able to wake up.” She gave him a glare. “Unlike some people I know.”

Pierce just beamed, letting her fake anger slide right off him. “It’s an animal thing,” he joked, winking at her. “So don’t feel too bad about it.”

Mila rolled her eyes as she eyed the plate in front of her.

“Homemade bacon and egg on an English muffin?” she asked. “I normally only get this from—”

“And cheese,” he said proudly, interrupting her. “Delicious cheese.”

“What, do shifters have some sort of obsession with cheese too?” she asked laughingly at his insistence.

“Not that I’m aware of. I’m pretty sure it’s just me,” he admitted, taking a bite into the makeshift sandwiches.

“Well, I owe you a big thanks for that,” she said, and then glanced back into the kitchen at the floor. “And for cleaning up that glass. I owe you big time.”

Pierce waved her off, shaking his head as he ate. “Nonsense. You’ve been more than gracious as a host. Hell, being a host just to begin with was unnecessary. So, consider it the cost of feeding me and giving me a place to crash.”

She’d started to blush at his insinuation of her actions the night before, but he kept on talking as if he had been talking about her other actions all along. There was no awkward pause or suggestive gaze; not even his tone changed. He was pretending it never happened.

Mila wanted to thank him, but part of her was also hurt at the idea that he could just so easily cast what had happened aside. Had she not been that good after all? He was a shifter…maybe he’d just had far better than her? He was good-looking enough to have gotten around enough.

“Okay,” she mumbled, burying herself in the food until the topic changed.

“So, what’s the deal for today then?” he asked. “I need to start looking for my brothers.”

“The first thing you need to do,” she said, finishing the first of her little sandwiches, “is get a haircut.”

Pierce shook his head. “No, I think I’m good there.”

Mila gave him a sarcastic look. “Pierce, whoever took your brothers likely doesn’t want to be found. Which means they probably have people looking out for someone poking around in their business. You stick out like a sore thumb with both your size, and your ugly-ass haircut.”

He leaned back slightly, looking hurt. “Do you really think I look that bad?”

“Underneath?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady as she reminded herself of just how good he looked. “No, you’re fine. But the hair needs to go, and your beard needs a trim. Not much, but just a little.”

Pierce popped the last bite of his second sandwich into his mouth and looked contemplative. While he thought it over, Mila turned her voracious attention to the remaining sandwich. It disappeared in what she was pretty sure close to world record time, and she sat back, chewing and savoring the taste of it as it went down.

“Okay,” Pierce said. “I’ll get my hair cut. But,” he said quickly before she could crow victory, “under one condition.”

“Which is?” she asked cautiously.

“You take me somewhere to get it done, by someone who knows what they’re doing,” he said sheepishly.

Mila laughed. “Okay, deal.” She stuck her hand out, and he took it.

The contact lasted perhaps a full second at most, but that was enough. She felt her body react to his touch, heat blooming in several places, and her heart picking up speed as it beat faster and faster in response to him.

She pulled away a little more harshly than perhaps she should, and looked away quickly. Even as her eyes looked down though, Mila saw Pierce glance at his own hand.

Had he felt that too?

A thought occurred to her, pushing through the reaction. Desperate for something, anything else to think about, Mila latched onto it instantly.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay going outside?” she asked. “I mean, yesterday you were having a pretty hard time.”

Pierce shrugged. “How far is the nearest place you could take me?”

Mila had to think for a second. “Perhaps a five-minute car ride.”

“Okay, so how long to walk?”

She blinked in surprise. “To walk? Um, maybe twenty minutes?”

Pierce closed his eyes and his head tilted from side to side as he considered it.

“Yes, I think I can make that.” He looked at her, and for the first time she saw a memory of the night before in his bright blue eyes. “I feel less stressed now than when I first came here.”

Mila told herself she absolutely would not blush at the reference to the orgasm she’d given him last night, but her wishes meant nothing, and she felt herself heat up.

“Oh, okay,” she mumbled, not wanting to bring it up.

At least you know he enjoyed himself a little.

Well, that he’d enjoyed himself at all had never been in doubt. Mila had gotten first-hand evidence of that. It was a matter of how much he’d enjoyed it, and what he now thought of her. She was determined that, if something was going to happen between them, that it would be done properly. Which meant getting to know him first.

Cleaning the plates off the table, she deposited them in the sink.

Dishes can come later.

“Okay, grab your stuff. I’ll get changed real fast and be back down.”

Pierce paused and she turned to look at him.

“What?”

He lifted his arms slightly and then let them fall. “Mila, I’m wearing everything I have.”

Pursing her lips, she sized him up and down objectively—for once—and then made her decision.

“Okay, I’ll get you a towel, you take a shower, we’ll go to the clothing store, then the hairdresser. It’s on the way, so it won’t take us much longer.”

He nodded and followed her upstairs. She tossed him a spare towel, and then headed back downstairs to wait while he cleaned up.

Why are you doing all this for him?

Mila didn’t have an immediate answer.