“Shit hit the fan?” Demon asked.
“Not yet. But I have more information. Are you actually awake right now?”
“Dude, I have kids and a pregnant old lady, so yeah.”
Lefty laughed. “True that.”
“Keep laughing. The way you’re looking at Gia, shit ain’t far off for you.”
“I don’t know, man. I don’t even know if I want kids. That’s a lot of responsibility.
Especially if shit goes sideways.”
“Best thing you can be given, man, trust me.”
Lefty decided not to answer and launched into an information dump.
“So, basically, we need to get eyes inside their community and gather some information,”
Demon said.
“Looks like it. But, hell, other than Gia we don’t know anyone.”
“So, let her set it up. She knows enough females. Or she can do it herself. I know her well enough to know she’s had some sort of eyes back home. Someone had to tip her off to
Mylandra’s activities. That’s shit we need to know. I could talk to her, but I think you’d be less…”
“Abrasive?” Lefty offered.
“Yeah, that.”
“I’ll talk to her and rough out a plan, and then we’ll get back to you.”
“Done.” Demon disconnected.
Lefty then headed out feeling like he was going into battle.
After he got there, he walked into his house and his stomach grumbled. The smell of food
greeting him was a first. He closed the door behind him and paused. A pleasant warmth filled his chest. The M.C. gave him a sense of belonging and family, but this was a different…personal and private. He allowed himself a moment in the hallway to take it all in.
Memories of coming home after school to see his ma flooded him. She always had fresh
bread with jam and tea waiting for him. He closed his eyes and her image sharpened. She was small, dainty with a thin frame, big, bright green eyes speckled with light yellow and glossy black ringlets. He used to imagine she was one of the Fae he’d been hearing stories about his entire life. He could hear her lilting accent and smell the floral scent that always clung to her clothing. They hadn’t had much, but they’d been happy when his father wasn’t on a drunk binge.
The weekdays weren’t too bad. It was the weekends when all hell broke loose. He tried to his best to be the man of the house, but he’d failed her in so many ways.
Pushing the grim thoughts away, he walked to the kitchen. Gia turned from the stove and his dick sprung to life in his pants. His shirt swam on her body, sliding down her shoulders to show beautiful brown skin. He wanted to trace her collarbone with his tongue, lift her onto the counter and have her for breakfast.
“Don’t look at me with those hungry eyes. I’ve made this breakfast for you.”
“You didn’t even know if I’d be home,” he argued.
“I would’ve saved you some.” She shrugged while looking down.
This coyness from her was new. He didn’t want to read too much into it, but it felt major. He moved up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, peering over her shoulder. The
sight of steel cut oats liberally laced with brown sugar took him back to the small kitchen in the cottage.