Page 7 of The Fanged One

I want it. It's ours now. I've decided.

Stop it. Not ours.

"Fuck." Linnea banged her forehead once against the doorframe for emphasis and went looking for clothes that might fit him.

Linnea whispered another prayer of forgiveness as she went inside Havi's room and rummaged through his wardrobe. Havi was, with all due respect, a big war god, but Fenris was the son of a giantess, and looked it. The math was not mathing in the clothes department. Nothing in there was going to fit him.

She gave up on the wardrobe entirely, took the largest bath towel she could find from the linen cupboard, a thick gray thing big enough to wrap around two people, and hung it on the bathroom doorknob from the outside.

"There's a towel big enough here," she told the door. "Nothing of Havi's will fit you, and I doubt the towels in the bathroom can either. This one on the door is the best I can do. Please come out wearing it."

There was a small silence from inside before a voice cleared and said, "Thank you… I don't know your name."

"Linnea," she replied awkwardly.

"Thank you, Linnea."

She fled to the kitchen, her face flaming like an idiot, and put the coffee on. She found eggs and milk in the fridge, and both were still in date.

"Scrambled eggs it is," she muttered under her breath.

I have some eggs he can scramble, her wolf said.

That doesn't even make sense.

Does too, you just have no imagination.

She ignored the commentary and cracked eggs into a bowl. She placed a pan on the heat and poured scrambled eggs into it. She didn't think about the naked god. Or the laughter that skittered over her skin.

When Fenris came back into the kitchen, he had the towel wrapped around his hips. He padded barefoot to the barstool and sat at the counter.

She poured coffee, set the cup in front of him, and as his fingers closed around the handle, his knuckles brushed hers lightly. Her wolf, who had been keeping up a constant joyful internal commentary all morning, threw her head back inside Linnea and howled so loudly she jumped in surprise.

"Sorry. Coffee's hot," she mumbled.

Fenris's eyes flicked to her face. He considered her with a careful curiosity, and focused back on the cup. She scooped eggs onto two plates and pushed his across the counter.

"They are eggs," she said when he stared at them. "I'm sure you've had them before. Probably thousands of years ago but maybe not like this… and I'll shut up now."

Fenris's mouth twitched, and if she squinted, it was almost a smile. He picked up the fork she had set beside the plate, speared his eggs, and ate them. The towel slipped on his hips, and he resettled it without looking down.

Linnea stared into her own coffee and reminded herself that she had seen half-naked men before. Literally all the time when she was in Ulfheim, because shifters had zero problems with nudity.

"Have you had a shower before?" she asked after finishing her eggs.

Fenris stopped chewing and shook his head.

"Come on, I'll show you," she said. "Bring the towel."

She walked him to the bathroom, flicked the light on, gestured at the shower, and tried to explain what it was to a god who had been bound underground before plumbing had been invented. She turned the tap, and hot water came out of the wall in a sudden rush.

Fenris watched the water with patient consideration before putting his hand under the spray. He seemed mesmerized as water ran over his fingers and steam rose around him.

"Verdict?" Linnea asked.

He nodded once, slowly, and she took that to mean he liked it.

She showed him the soap and the shampoo in a tall green glass bottle on the shelf because the All-Father was apparently bougie about his hair product. Fenris took the bottle in his hand, lifted it to his nose, and sniffed, inhaling the eucalyptus and mint like it might explode.