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I’m not a good cook. I’m a decent cook, but not a good one. But my mouth was apparently currently made out of strange animal parts that didn’t know how to enunciate, so I didn’t say anything to that, trying, instead, to ignore the fact that my ears were getting hotter so that I could force my face to smile.
“And coffee. Two tablespoons of sugar.” Jesus fucking Christ on a stick, I was turning into a gibbering baboon.
“Thanks.”
I noted that Taavi’s hands also shook slightly as he picked up his coffee. He looked up at me through dark, thick lashes. “Blood sugar’s a little low. Shifting takes a lot out of you.”
Right. Stop being a useless lump. I took a plate and put an omelet on it, then put several pieces of ham and bacon beside it, as well as two pieces of toast. Then I held it out to him. “I made extra. Because of the shifting.”
He took the plate from me with another smile. “You eat in the living room all the time?” he asked.
I shrugged. I don’t own a kitchen table. “Usually. Or I stand here at the counter like a barbarian.” Well, at least I was starting to sound like I was capable of using human language now, even if I wasn’t exactly showing off my impressive social skills.
He chuckled, a sound that was eerily similar to his doggy chuff.
It was kind of adorable.
I told myself to stop that line of thought immediately, then got my own omelet and toast and followed Taavi into the living room. He was sitting on the couch, and I automatically dropped to the floor in front of it.
That was my spot, after all.
He looked at me. “You can sit up here, you know.”
I crossed my legs and put my plate in my lap. “I actually do like sitting on the floor,” I told him. It wasn’t a lie. But there was also no way I was going to share the couch with him. There was already not enough space between us for me to actually be comfortable, but I forced myself to eat my breakfast like a good little elf even though my stomach was in knots.
I couldn’t decide if the ensuing silence was comfortable or awkward, especially because I definitely wasn’t comfortable speaking, but I also wanted something other than the sound of silverware on plates to fill the silence.
Chewing and swallowing was about as complicated as I could manage.
Then Taavi spoke.
“You said you made extra?” He sounded hopeful.
“Yeah, just a—” I’d started to push myself up, but a warm hand came to rest on my shoulder, and I froze.
“I’ve got it, Hart. You’ve been waiting on me for two months. I can get my own seconds.”
“Right. Okay. Yeah. The rest is yours if you want it.”
As soon as he was out of the room I let my head fall back against the couch in exasperation. You would think I’d been raised in a goddamn barn by lunatic chickens.
I know the phrase is supposed to be wolves, but wolves are actually intelligent, sociable animals. Chickens, for the record, are really stupid. Not just run-of-the-mill dumb, but really fucking stupid. Which is about where I was at that precise moment.
I was back to eating my food when Taavi returned, his plate heaped with the rest of the meat, another omelet, and more toast. He looked at me almost guiltily. “Is this okay?”
I gestured with my fork. “Elves can’t eat meat, so knock yourself out. And there’s more eggs, cheese, and bread in the fridge if we need more omelets.” I wasn’t going to manage to eat any more than what I had already, mostly because it was sticking in my throat, but if he wanted more, I could make that happen.
Taavi smiled as he settled back on the couch, his non-broken leg tucked up under his other thigh, immediately tucking into his second plate.
I took a sip of coffee to get the toast off the roof of my mouth. I was trying to figure out whether or not it would be more torturous to try to speak or let the silence stretch on when he spoke again.
“How did you figure it out?” he asked, his voice low.
I blinked. “Figure what out?”
“Any of it. All of it.” The smile he offered me was a little wry. “I’m not that clever.”
I frowned. “You were clever enough to avoid a feral vampire by jumping into a dumpster with a broken fucking leg,” I retorted irritably. “So it couldn’t smell your blood or your fear. Personally, I find that a lot more impressive than being able to root through a bunch of fucking files until the dots basically connect themselves.”
