Page 36 of Mortis

Hopefully not about my cooking.

For someone who’d never prepared human arse before—other than my own—I’d done a pretty decent job.

My eyes were beginning to drift closed when He finally spoke.

“Well done, mortal.” His deep voice rolled through the room. “We shall try it his way.”

The corner of His mouth twitched.

“For now.”

Relief hit me so hard I nearly sagged in my chair. Instead, I grinned.

“Good choice, beastie.” I pushed myself upright and nodded towards the bedrooms. “Now back in your box. It’s bedtime.”

The Beast snarled, but the glow in His eyes flickered. For just a second, I could’ve sworn I saw Kael’s amusement shining through. He rose from the table and followed as I carried the plate into the kitchen and dropped it into the sink.

Together, we crossed the flat towards my bedroom. When we reached the door, I looked up at Him. The Beast stared down at me and slowly smiled. The expression contained enough sharp teeth to make most people run screaming.

Unfortunately for Him, I was far too tired to be intimidated.

Time for one final jab before Kael returned.

“Oh, and you’re sleeping on the floor.”

He growled. “Absolutely not.”

And then, not for the first time tonight, I laughed.

5

TEDDY

I woke naturally, with no idea what time it was. My alarm hadn’t gone off yet, but when I opened my eyes, the bedroom was much brighter than I expected. With a yawn, I stretched my arms above my head until my back snapped, crackled, and popped louder than a bowl of Rice Krispies. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I reached across the bed, ready to nudge Arlo awake and ask him the time. But my hand met cold sheets.

I frowned.

Arlo was never up first. Not unless it was Christmas, his favourite day of the year.

That was the one occasion he woke earlier than an overexcited toddler, desperate to spend the day watching festive films with me and Grandad while inhaling every edible thing within arm’s reach. It’d given me a pretty good idea of what Christmas must’ve been like before he came to Blackthorn. Something I tried not to dwell on too much unless I fancied feeling miserable before my first cup of coffee.

Seeing as it wasn’t Christmas but early October, Arlo should’ve been tucked up beside me, waiting to be smacked awake after sleeping through yet another alarm.

I rolled onto my left side and screamed.

To be fair, it was less of a scream and more of a piglike squeal.

Definitely not my proudest moment.

At the edge of my bed sat a dark shape. Its edges drifted like smoke over a flame, while two curved silhouettes rose from its head like a pair of horns. Right in the middle floated two red orbs that disappeared every few seconds.

Blinking.

I lunged for my glasses on the bedside table and shoved them onto my face.

The blurry shape sharpened into focus and . . . oh.

I blinked, and then blinked again. And as the last vestiges of sleep cleared from my vision, I realised exactly what I was looking at.