The Sleeper's Harp (The Arcane Artifacts, #1)

Chapter 7 - Breakfast Pancakes

The smell of bacon had my lids peeling open. I inhaled. Coffee, too? There came a muffled clatter and I blinked. Oh, my God. Was...was the goblin cooking breakfast? Throwing back the covers, I jumped from the bed, then hesitated.

I moved into the bathroom and brushed my teeth. Then I ran my fingers through my hair, taming my pink waves. I wiped away some of the smudges of mascara from around my eyes. I'd used a washcloth to wash my skin last night, but there'd been no makeup remover, so I left the eye makeup alone. Bad idea, since now my eyes felt gritty.

I glanced at the shower, contemplated, then looked down at myself. I checked my armpits. Passable. Not the most important thing right now. I needed coffee asap if I was going to function today. A shower could wait.

On my way through the room, I glanced at the clock. It was eight thirty. I usually let myself sleep until ten, most days. 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 baggy on me—big surprise—and came down to mid-thigh. I snorted; I bet it fit Bastian like a glove. Like the black one he'd worn yesterday. On me, it was practically a dress. 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 snorted. Ether 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 stopped, then resumed. I trudged barefooted down the hall that spanned along the staircase, through an arch at the end, and right into...the kitchen of my dreams. I stopped, gawking, taking it in. Rustic wood cabinets, butcher block island, white granite countertops with flecks of smoky gray and silver that glittered, a farmhouse sink, all tied together with stainless steel appliances. I silenced the groan that threatened to escape. Wow. Just...wow.

Bacon sizzled in the frying pan. A coffee maker sat, pot full. There were ingredients littering the counter. Pancakes? And an open carton of eggs.

But none of that grabbed my attention.

It was the goblin, with a towel draped over his shoulder, lounge pants hugging low on his hips, and an entire bare torso on display, that stole my focus. His tattoos didn't end at his arms. One of them went over his right shoulder and crept onto his chest, depicting tribal markings that I assumed had everything to do with his goblin ancestry. He had piercings in both freaking nipples. The rest of his torso was bare, showing off a cut of muscles more solid than the granite countertops in the room.

Holy—

"Mornin', Sugar." That gravely, sleepy voice went straight to my core, sent heat zinging down to the apex of my thighs.

I hid my response with an annoyed groan. "Can't you just call me Elle?"

"Nah." He crossed his arms, tattooed muscles flexing, watching me watch him. The corner of his mouth twisted up in a half smile. "How'd my shirt treat you? Looks good on you." Those green eyes burned tracks over my body, lingering on my bare legs. Some of the green in his irises disappeared, blackening.

"Fine," I snapped, trying to hide my true feelings with irritation. I was a little irritated, after all. "Hope you weren't planning on getting it back."

He huffed. "Good as it looks on you, it's my favorite. If I gotta peel it off that cute little body of yours, I will."

"You wouldn't dare," I gasped.

"Oh?" He lifted an eyebrow then stalked forward, all business, lifting his hands, reaching for the hem.

I sputtered, backing up a step. "Okay. Okay. I'll give it back. Just...obviously not right this second."