Page 21 of Bound By the Sleeper’s Harp

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The smell of coffee and bacon had my gritty eyes peeling open. I inhaled, stomach growling. There came a muffled clatter from the kitchen. I blinked, my thoughts sharpening into something intelligible.

Oh, my God. Was… Was the goblin cooking breakfast? Throwing back the covers, I jumped up, ready to witness the unexpected.

Then I hesitated, common sense taking over.

I stepped into the bathroom and brushed my teeth, finger-combing my pink waves. My mascara had smudged, leaving dark circles under my eyes that enhanced my exhausted, sleep deprived state. I did my best to wipe it off with dampened toilet paper, which unhelpfully disintegrated.

It would have to do, for now.

On my way through the room, I checked the clock. It was eight thirty. I usually let myself sleep until ten. But… bacon.

When I reached the door, I looked over at the clothes I’d tossed onto the lounge in the corner. Then I glanced down at my bare legs and T-shirt. It was oversized on me, falling to mid-thigh. I bet it fit Bastian like a glove. Like the black one he’d worn yesterday.

The decal on the front said Walton Comets with a giant comet overlaying a football. In sub text, it said, “Streaking into the endzone since 1963.”

I huffed. Either he was a football fan, or it was a shirt he hated and didn’t mind giving up. Still, it was soft and comfy. It smelled fresh like his detergent. Maybe I would keep it, just for the hell of it. I wasn’t a huge football fan but, why not?

Inhaling again, I pulled the door open. The noise in the kitchen abruptly stopped, then resumed. I trudged barefoot down the hall and right into…the kitchen of my dreams? Rustic wood cabinets, butcher block island, white granite countertops with flecks of smoky gray and silver that glittered. I silenced the groan that threatened to escape.

Because of course this asshole had a gorgeous kitchen.

Bacon sizzled in a frying pan. A coffee maker sat with its pot full. There were ingredients littering the counter for…pancakes? And an open carton of eggs.

But none of that was what stole my attention.

It was the goblin with a towel draped over his shoulder, lounge pants hugging low on his hips, and an entirely bare torso on display. Because… wow. His tattoos didn’t just cover his arms. One of them went over his right shoulder and crept across his chest, a maze of tribal markings that I could only assume had something to do with his goblin ancestry. He had piercings in both nipples. The rest of his torso was golden, human-looking skin, showing off a cut of muscles that had saliva pooling in my mouth.

What the hell?!

“Morning, sugar.” His gravelly voice went straight to my core as my body betrayed me, sending heat zinging to the apex of my thighs. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t stand him. Didn’t matter that he was an asshole.

I hid my response with an irritated scoff. “Can’t you just call me Rose?”

“Nah.” He crossed his arms, his tattooed muscles flexing. The corner of his mouth twisted up in a half-smirk—one I was growing to both love and hate. Green eyes burned tracks over my body, lingering on my bare legs before blackening. “How’d my shirt work out? Looks good on you.”

“Fine,” I snapped. “Hope you weren’t planning on getting it back.”

“No?”

“Not a chance.”

“Hmm. It's my favorite. Might have to peel it off that cute little body of yours if you refuse.”

“You wouldn't dare.”

“Oh?” He stalked forward, hands reaching for me.

I sputtered, backing up, until I hit the counter behind me. “Okay! I'll give it back. Just—not right this second, obviously.”

His grin was wicked “Glad to hear it. Want some coffee?' How’d you sleep?”

He was standing close—too close. I cleared my throat. “Coffee, please. And, I slept fine.”

“Just…fine? I paid a lot of money for that mattress.”

I huffed and slipped past him, over to the coffee maker. He moved in the same direction, shadowing me as I came to a stop. Goosebumps pebbled my skin as a corded arm reached up. He opened the cabinet and retrieved a mug, setting it in front of me. I swallowed, very aware of the heat pouring off him. Very aware of his front nearly flush to my back.