God bless the internet.

In my study, I alternated my attention between the Lesser Key of Solomon and the translation program running on my laptop. Down stairs, the tantalizing smell of steak and potatoes teased my nose and sent my stomach into periodic grumbles of anticipation. I sat back and scrubbed my hands down my face. My fingers linger to massage my temples. Exhaustion came to visit both mentally and physically.

“Hey.”

I glanced over my shoulder at Lachlan. Sometime between arriving at my brownstone and starting dinner, he showered. He filled my doorway, leaning one tee shirt clad shoulder against the frame with both hands shoved into the pocket of long shorts, and bare-footed. The sight of him threatened to send me into giggles. He looked so normal. Not at all dragon-like.

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