So, so,sovery cute.
It’s actually hilarious that this is the end result of a whole man’s room. It went from monochrome sharp to cotton candy shag rugs and giant pink faux fur saucer chairs and a wholly lavish California King princess bed, complete with a gaudy fairy light canopy.
Beside me, Kyran whistles.
I grin at him. “What do you think?”
“I have never felt more masculine.”
My eyes roll, and I snatch his hand before shutting the lights off and dragging him by the slim glow of the moon beyond the windows to his bed. Pushing him inside the lace atop a soft down comforter, I turn the canopy on and let the little lights burst to life like fireflies before I fall into the cocoon beside him.
Ibeam.
I’d justloveto see a nightmare manage to appear amid allthisnonsense. Like, you’re telling me that you’re gonna show up andtryto bescaryin a princess bed surrounded by fluffy stuffed animals?
Pft.
Yeah,okay. Sure.
“Do you like it?” I blurt, turning to look at Kyran, expecting him to be taking in the beautiful view above us.
His eyes linger on me. “Yes,” he says, and a breath catches in my chest when his fingers meet mine again. They twine, linking our hands together. “I love it.”
His thumb swipes up my index finger as his eyes close, and I find myself stuck. Here. Late. With him.
Bad decisions around every corner.
Hiding in every plush shadow.
“Do you really like it?” I ask, tone odd even in my own ears.
“Yes,” he repeats. “It’s warm. Safe. And…every part makes me think of you.” Gentle, a smile touches his lips. “Even though it’s nothing like either of us, really, is it?”
My face heats. “I don’t know… The blues are your blues.”
“Mm, true. But you’re not very pink.”
“Not…usually.” I glance toward my pink dumpling bear. The very one I lent him, hoping it might chase his nightmares away. “Or maybe not…publicly. Pink is Mae’s favorite color, right? And…well…it suits her, you know? Cute things. Pretty things. They suit her. I’m…less cute and pretty. It doesn’t match my character or the way I look. I’ve played mannequin more times than I can count growing up, back when Mae and I shared a pretty identical body type, so I know I’m not comfortable in the things she wears, but I… This stuff…” I chew my lip. “I don’t know. I really like it, too, just absolutely not as clothes.”
“Pretty, lacy, cutie Morana…” he murmurs.
I shudder.
His eyes open, icy blue and gleaming in the fairy lights. “Please, mistress?”
I flinch. “Pleasewhatexactly?”
“Would you bless a starving e-boy with the honor to behold such a thing?”
“No.”
“But—”
“Absolutely not.”
“But, mistress—”
“Don’t youbut, mistressme.”
