me.”
Sloane chuckled as he grabbed his mate’s wrists. “I’m not teasing you, hon. I think it’s sexy.”
His mate didn’t look as though he believed Sloane, but didn’t say anything else on the subject. Sloane ran his jaw over D’s black hair, wondering if they could really have a great life together…assuming D’s father didn’t kill either of them first.
* * * *
D swept up the chips from the kitchen floor and turned the dustpan over the trash can. He couldn’t believe he had done that…again. He was so damn embarrassed that he had avoided Sloane for the rest of the night. His mate must think him a damn psycho!
He wanted to smack himself in the forehead with the dustpan for the way he had behaved. Shifters were built differently, and he needed to remember that. They couldn’t get human sicknesses or diseases. He was never going to watch another documentary for as long as he lived.
D groaned, afraid Sloane was going to get tired of his quirkiness and tell him to hit the road. He was trying his best to be normal, but it wasn’t working out so well. He was even fucking that up.
Picking the double fudge pudding up and the cereal, D placed them back on the shelf. He still didn’t see how anyone could eat that crap, but Sloane loved it, so he would let it be. He spotted a box of cake mix, wondering if he could make Sloane a cake in show of how sorry he was for acting so damn batty. He never cooked human food before, but it couldn’t be that hard, right?
D read the directions on the back of the box, getting everything he needed and placing the items on the counter. There weren’t many things he had to gather, which told him this task wouldn’t be that hard. He preheated the oven and then set about mixing everything.
This was kind of fun.
Pouring the batter into the two round cake pans, D slid them into the oven and then wiped his hands on the apron he wore. Maybe he could start cooking for Sloane. Baking a cake had been simple enough.
Making fresh dishwater, D cleaned up his mess and waited for the cake to finish. He knew it was four in the morning, but the cake could be eaten later. After cleaning up his mess, D wandered into the living room and sat down, kicking his feet up and resting. Sloane was upstairs asleep, which left D nothing to do.
Closing his eyes for just a moment, D sighed as he relaxed into the soft cushions of the sofa.
* * * *
Sloane’s eyes snapped open to the shrill sound of the smoke detectors and someone screaming at the top of his lungs. He glanced over and saw that his mate wasn’t in bed with him.
“Fuck,” Sloane shouted when he saw the sun streaming through the window. He hit the floor and took off down the steps, immediately smelling smoke. Sloane felt disoriented as he searched for his mate.
He couldn’t see with the black billowing smoke thick in the air, choking him. Running for the fire extinguisher on the wall, Sloane grabbed it and began to look for the source of the smoke.
His lungs burned as if someone had poured hot cinders down his throat as he yanked the oven open and sprayed the white foam inside.
Turning the knob, he cut the oven off and then began to open windows and the kitchen door, praying the smoke cleared soon.
“Dudley!”
Sloane could hear little whimpers, but he wasn’t sure where the sound was coming from. Setting the extinguisher down, he stood very still and listened. The sound came again, and Sloane rushed over to the basement door, opening it carefully and then shutting it behind him.
“Dudley?”
He climbed down the steps, looking around the basement. The glass block windows shone sunlight, so Sloane knew his mate wouldn’t be out in the open. He checked the storage rooms and found his mate huddled in the last one, balled up and whimpering.
Sloane knelt by his mate, carefully turning his head to see the blisters covering his face. “Oh, D. What happened?”
“I fell asleep,” D said softly, his voice sounding dry and
Sloane chuckled as he grabbed his mate’s wrists. “I’m not teasing you, hon. I think it’s sexy.”
His mate didn’t look as though he believed Sloane, but didn’t say anything else on the subject. Sloane ran his jaw over D’s black hair, wondering if they could really have a great life together…assuming D’s father didn’t kill either of them first.
* * * *
D swept up the chips from the kitchen floor and turned the dustpan over the trash can. He couldn’t believe he had done that…again. He was so damn embarrassed that he had avoided Sloane for the rest of the night. His mate must think him a damn psycho!
He wanted to smack himself in the forehead with the dustpan for the way he had behaved. Shifters were built differently, and he needed to remember that. They couldn’t get human sicknesses or diseases. He was never going to watch another documentary for as long as he lived.
D groaned, afraid Sloane was going to get tired of his quirkiness and tell him to hit the road. He was trying his best to be normal, but it wasn’t working out so well. He was even fucking that up.
Picking the double fudge pudding up and the cereal, D placed them back on the shelf. He still didn’t see how anyone could eat that crap, but Sloane loved it, so he would let it be. He spotted a box of cake mix, wondering if he could make Sloane a cake in show of how sorry he was for acting so damn batty. He never cooked human food before, but it couldn’t be that hard, right?
D read the directions on the back of the box, getting everything he needed and placing the items on the counter. There weren’t many things he had to gather, which told him this task wouldn’t be that hard. He preheated the oven and then set about mixing everything.
This was kind of fun.
Pouring the batter into the two round cake pans, D slid them into the oven and then wiped his hands on the apron he wore. Maybe he could start cooking for Sloane. Baking a cake had been simple enough.
Making fresh dishwater, D cleaned up his mess and waited for the cake to finish. He knew it was four in the morning, but the cake could be eaten later. After cleaning up his mess, D wandered into the living room and sat down, kicking his feet up and resting. Sloane was upstairs asleep, which left D nothing to do.
Closing his eyes for just a moment, D sighed as he relaxed into the soft cushions of the sofa.
* * * *
Sloane’s eyes snapped open to the shrill sound of the smoke detectors and someone screaming at the top of his lungs. He glanced over and saw that his mate wasn’t in bed with him.
“Fuck,” Sloane shouted when he saw the sun streaming through the window. He hit the floor and took off down the steps, immediately smelling smoke. Sloane felt disoriented as he searched for his mate.
He couldn’t see with the black billowing smoke thick in the air, choking him. Running for the fire extinguisher on the wall, Sloane grabbed it and began to look for the source of the smoke.
His lungs burned as if someone had poured hot cinders down his throat as he yanked the oven open and sprayed the white foam inside.
Turning the knob, he cut the oven off and then began to open windows and the kitchen door, praying the smoke cleared soon.
“Dudley!”
Sloane could hear little whimpers, but he wasn’t sure where the sound was coming from. Setting the extinguisher down, he stood very still and listened. The sound came again, and Sloane rushed over to the basement door, opening it carefully and then shutting it behind him.
“Dudley?”
He climbed down the steps, looking around the basement. The glass block windows shone sunlight, so Sloane knew his mate wouldn’t be out in the open. He checked the storage rooms and found his mate huddled in the last one, balled up and whimpering.
Sloane knelt by his mate, carefully turning his head to see the blisters covering his face. “Oh, D. What happened?”
“I fell asleep,” D said softly, his voice sounding dry and
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