Bacon—and lots of it—woke me from my slumber. A headache danced at the edge of my vision, causing me to grimace as I sat up from the couch. I sniffed the air, fried meat bringing me to my senses and making my stomach growl.
“Oh, food,” I groaned as I lurched forward. My stomach flipped and my throat expanded, my mouth watering at the motion. “But first…”
I sprinted to the bathroom where I prayed to the porcelain god, throwing up whatever had been left in my system. It was a shame I was so pathetic. I might have made a great doctor if I had stuck around at the hospital, instead of staying home.
But nothing could change that. This was my path now. I had to embrace it.
Just as much as I embraced the toilet bowl in front of me.
After I was done emptying my stomach, I stood up, flushed the toilet, and rinsed out my mouth, swishing with the mouthwash that sat near the edge of the sink. A brand-new toothbrush, still in its packaging, rested near a tube of toothpaste. Might as well do that, too. Once I was mostly cleaned up, I checked my appearance, the redness around my eyes causing me more alarm than usual.
I frowned. Was this what I looked like now?
Shaggy auburn-brown hair hung in my face. The sides had been shaved up in a stylish undercut once upon a time, but now the hair had grown out a bit and was in desperate need of upkeep. My thick brows rose like brushstrokes over my hazel-brown eyes. When my eyes weren’t red, you could see the honey drops in them.
But not right now. I looked like a damned wreck.
“Nathaniel?”
Her voice was like silk in my ears. I sniffed my way into the living room, following the adorably curvy woman holding out a plate piled high with just about every meat I loved.
“God bless you,” I groaned.
“And God help you.”
I stared at her for a moment. “I love that pixie cut. Never change it.”
“Says the man in his underwear. In my living room.”
“Technically,” I said pointedly, as I raised a strip of bacon. I gestured with it. “Everywhere in here is your living room.”
She eyed me playfully, green eyes sparkling like that of a vicious dragon. I mean, that was her. That was Geraldine—a vicious dragon with a heart like gold. And, oh, how I wanted to possess that heart.
I wanted to trace her curves, discover her hidden tattoos, worship the very crevices that I knew needed attention. She hadn’t dated in years, much like me, and as I raised the bacon to my lips, I made a point to take an exasperatingly slow bite, delighting in the way her eyelids twitched at the sight.
She ran her fingers through her pixie-cut blonde hair, the red streaks having long since faded. I liked crimson in her hair. It made her look more vicious. I just loved a woman who could potentially kick my ass.
If only I was brave enough to tell her, I thought as I struck an exaggerated pose. The hard planes of my body flexed, my muscles still alert even though I hadn’t fed them properly in days. I could stop drinking. I could be happy.
I gasped when I realized the photograph was still in my pants pocket. I set the plate down, darted into the tiny alcove where the laundry machine was, and yanked my jeans still sopping wet from the machine. I yanked the photograph from the pocket and shut the machine, letting it resume its wash.
I tucked the photograph into the side of my boxers. It would be fine there for now as long as Geraldine didn’t notice.
But oh, she certainly did notice.
“What is that?”
“Nothing,” I claimed as I lifted my plate. “A forgotten memory. An ancient treasure.”
“Dragons love their treasures.”
My face darkened as I turned away. “Not this one. Got any coffee? Ibuprofen?”
“Coming right up,” she said as she slid past me. Her hand swept over my hip, causing me to shiver. “Now sit the fuck down before you make yourself sick again.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I growled.
Yep, she could definitely kick my ass.