8. Annie’s Second ‘Mishap’

8

Griff bounded into the kitchen, his chest full of determination.

"I'm going to cook the best food you've ever had," he declared, gently setting Quinlan and Annie on the floor.

"Can you cook better than Isabel?" Quinlan's mouth tugged into that beautiful, amused smile. "I mean, since she's a professional cook and all."

Isabel laughed and waved, heading off to the staff quarters. "You're on your own," she called back. "You asked for it!"

It had been a long time since Griff had cooked anything. But he still remembered the basics. "I can boil vegetables into mush for Annie," he said proudly. "And pasta!"

Quinlan sat on a stool with Annie on his lap; she began squirming. "Looks like she wants to crawl around."

"Hex, bring a playpen," Griff said.

Hex appeared in the kitchen a few moments later with one of the playpens Griff had stashed in his hoard. It was so old that the colors were slightly faded, but it had a cloth mesh border and a colorful tinkling mobile that Quinlan jiggled when he placed Annie into the pen.

Annie grabbed a stuffed rabbit on the mobile and promptly shoved it into her mouth.

"There you go!" Griff was so delighted. "You'll grow up to be such a fierce dragonet!"

Quinlan's pulse skipped again. When Griff peeked at his face, he found Quinlan's expression pinched. But why?

There were so many mysteries surrounding this man. Griff wanted to unravel them all, but he didn't want Quinlan to feel bad. "What's wrong?"

Quinlan shook his head. "You really want a dragonet, huh?"

"I want so many," Griff blurted. "I want a big family like my parents have. We'll all go hunting in the forest and fishing in the lake, and we'll have so many big dinners."

In the playpen, Annie tried to get to her feet, but she ended up falling on her bottom.

"I never asked," Griff realized. "What color dragon is she?"

Quinlan's pulse skipped again, like he was nervous.

Griff frowned. "Fireheart?"

"Pink scales," Quinlan said with a perfectly steady heartbeat.

"Aww. That's such a sweet color. I haven't seen her shift," Griff said wistfully. "She'll be such a pretty dragonet."

Quinlan looked away, squirming.

"Fireheart, what's wrong?"

"Can we go to my apartment a day earlier?" Quinlan looked so uncomfortable that Griff's chest squeezed.

"Fine," Griff grumbled. "What would you like for breakfast?"

Quinlan hesitated. "Pancakes?"

"Mmm. I think I could make those." Griff opened the pantry door, and paused. No, he didn't know the ingredients he needed. "Hmm."

Just outside the kitchen, Hex snickered. "Get the flour," Hex said quietly, too low for Quinlan's ears to pick up. "The largest mixing bowl. Eggs, butter, milk, sugar, baking powder, salt."

Hex really was the best butler a dragon could ask for. Griff followed his instructions.

Quinlan seemed surprised. "You actually know what you're doing."

Griff puffed out his chest. Hex didn't really know how to cook, either—he must've looked up a recipe on his phone. "I am a dragon with resources."

Quinlan raised an eyebrow, but seemed to accept the answer.

When Griff had mixed together all the ingredients and the griddle was heating up, he wandered over to the playpen, where Annie craned her neck to look at him.

So Griff leaned in, flashing his red eyes at her. "Gonna rumble, lil flame?"

He rumbled like how he'd done with his youngest siblings when they were babies, but she only smiled and pawed at the mesh wall of the playpen.

"She doesn't shift even when I'm in my dragon form," Griff said, confused. "Dragonets usually shift when they see their kind."

Quinlan was chewing on his lip, looking uncomfortable again.

"Is there something wrong with her?" Griff asked in concern.

Quinlan shook his head quickly. "No, she's fine."

"Hmm." Griff turned back to the stove, pouring pancake batter onto the griddle.

Halfway through pouring the third pancake, there came a wet, hacking sound. Quinlan swore and stood with a screech of his chair legs. "Annie!" he hissed.

Griff turned to find Quinlan shoving a wadded-up paper towel against the tiled floor, next to the playpen. The paper towel grew dark with clear fluid. "How'd that get there?"

"Um." Quinlan winced. "I don't know?"

He was lying.

"Fireheart," Griff said resentfully.

"I'm fixing it," Quinlan said. But suddenly he looked tired, and Griff couldn't figure out why. Had he pushed Quinlan too hard?

"Is Annie sick?" Griff blurted, hurrying over.

"She's fine," Quinlan said a bit too quickly.

"No, she's not fine. What's wrong with her?"

Quinlan wrung his hands. "It's not urgent. I'll tell you after we get to my apartment."

"What? We should be going now!"

Quinlan winced. "No, just—not right now. Tomorrow?"

Griff blinked. Hadn't Quinlan wanted to return to his apartment as soon as possible? What had made him change his mind? "But Annie's sick."

"Not sick-sick. Just—" Quinlan chewed his lip, his gaze downcast. "It can wait a day. She's comfortable."

"Fine." Griff would coax more answers out of him later. They had to get breakfast in their bellies first, anyway. "How do I make food for Annie?"

Quinlan poked around in the fridge and pulled out the tray of eggs. "Scrambled eggs for Annie, plus mashed bananas."

"I can do those," Griff crowed. They certainly sounded easier than pancakes.

When the pancakes were done on one side, Griff flipped them, and hurried to crack some eggs into a bowl.

He accidentally dropped two eggs on the floor. But he managed to beat the remaining eggs and add a splash of milk, just in time to scoop the cooked pancakes off the griddle. "I'm doing it! I'm cooking!"

Quinlan laughed softly. "Yes, you are."

Griff did a happy dance in the middle of the kitchen, accidentally stepping into a puddle of egg. He hurried to clean up after that, chest swelling again when Quinlan watched him approvingly.

In between cooking more pancakes, Griff boiled some pasta, too, and rooted around in the freezer until he found a slab of frozen tuna.

"That's too much tuna for a baby," Quinlan protested. He couldn't take his eyes off the pink meat, though.

"You like tuna," Griff guessed.

Quinlan's breath hitched.

"How about we save this for lunch," Griff decided. "It'll take some time to thaw. Then I'll cook it for you and fill your belly full."

Quinlan's face turned completely red. Griff's instincts pressed up under his skin, needing to claim.

So he sneaked up to Quinlan, slipping his fingertips under Quinlan's shirt just to feel his warm skin. Quinlan shivered.

"So pretty," Griff whispered, pulling Quinlan against his front. Quinlan always felt so good in his arms. "Mine."

"Not yours," Quinlan grumbled, but his pulse stuttered.

Did he... also want this?

Griff dropped a kiss on top of Quinlan's head. He herded Quinlan over to the stove, tucking Quinlan against his chest so he could hug him and pour the next batch of pancakes at the same time.

"I like taking you everywhere with me," Griff rumbled, tugging Quinlan along as he went in search of maple syrup and chocolate sauce.

Quinlan frowned. "I'm not your chew toy."

"No, I want you to be my mate. At my side all day, every day."

"I'm not serving you," Quinlan muttered.

"No, I would be serving you," Griff purred. "Feeding you grapes one by one. Rubbing your feet. Massaging your shoulders."

Quinlan bit his lip, breathing out heavily. He looked uncertain again. "That's a lot to promise someone you barely know."

"We're getting to know each other now!"

For a moment, Quinlan opened his mouth as though he was going to say something else.

Then he shut his mouth, and slipped back to Annie's side.

Maybe he needed more time? That was okay. Griff could wait.

Griff busied himself with making all of Annie's food. When the eggs were scrambled and the pasta was soft and squishy, he put all the pots and pans in the sink.

Quinlan cursed.

Griff spun around to find Quinlan's shirt on fire. Quinlan was smacking at the fire with his bare hands.

"Fireheart!" Panicking, Griff closed the distance between them and tore open Quinlan's shirt, yanking it away from the man's delicate skin. "Are you hurt? Why were you wearing that? I gave you fireproof clothes!"

Quinlan grimaced. "I forgot about the new clothes. Sorry."

Griff dropped the burning shirt into the sink, pulling Quinlan to his feet so he could examine Quinlan's chest. Some parts of his skin were pinker than the rest. Luckily, the fire hadn't spread far at all. He hadn't gotten worse than a first-degree burn.

"Was that Annie?" Griff frowned at the playpen that Quinlan had been sitting next to. "Lil flame, we have to control ourselves so we don't hurt your daddy."

Annie watched them with wide eyes, her fist stuffed in her mouth.

"No, it's—" Quinlan winced and squirmed. "Never mind."

"What were you going to say?" Griff frowned more deeply. "You've been lying and keeping secrets."

Quinlan flinched. "Look, can we just—finish breakfast and go to my apartment? Or—I guess we should wait until tonight. We can't risk flying when there's any hint of daylight."

"Fine." Griff found some aloe gel in the fridge. He carefully spread it over the pink skin of Quinlan's chest, watching as the man shivered at the sudden cold. "Here," Griff said, setting down a plate of pancakes next to Quinlan, along with the syrups and butter. "Eat this first."

He plated some of Annie's food, too, grabbing the high chair that Hex had left just outside the kitchen.

Quinlan shoved half a syrup-drenched pancake into his mouth and moaned. "This is so good."

"Really?" Griff's heart skipped.

"Yeah. I guess I should've believed you."

Griff wanted to roar in triumph. Instead, he set the high chair next to Quinlan, watching as Quinlan helped Annie into the seat. "All good?"

Quinlan shot him a tiny smile. "Yes. Thank you."

"Wait here," Griff said.

He shut off the stove and hurried to his hoard, rummaging through one of the piles of his collection. It didn't take long to find what he was looking for.

Griff hurried back to the kitchen, proudly presenting his gift to Quinlan. "Here! This is for Annie."

Quinlan stared at the dragon-shaped onesie, his mouth falling open.

"Since she hasn't shifted into a dragon yet," Griff explained. "There's horns on the hood! And little wings on the back."

Quinlan was still speechless. Then he huffed a soft laugh and scooped Annie onto his lap, dressing her in the dragon onesie. "I guess this is the closest—I mean, I guess she can look like this in the meantime."

Annie was so adorable in the onesie that Griff's heart melted.

"Awww, she's so cute," Griff purred, dropping to his knees so he could bump his nose with Annie's. "Who's a fierce little dragonet?"

Annie yawned and shoved her hand against Griff's cheek.

"Can you roar?" Griff whispered, demonstrating a soft roar. "Like that."

She poked her fingers into his nose and giggled.

"Roar," Quinlan said. He lifted both of Annie's hands like they were paws, hiding his mouth behind her head. "I'm Annie," he said in a high-pitched voice. "Roar!"

Griff fell over laughing. He wrapped his arms around Annie and Quinlan and didn't want to let go.

"I want that picture on my Yuletide card," Griff said. "Annie in her dragon onesie roaring! And you too, fireheart. Also in a dragon onesie?"

Quinlan looked uncertain. "Maybe."

"I hope so." Griff's breath snagged. "Tell me what I can do to make you stay."

"Let me think about it."

Griff cupped Quinlan's face, brushing his thumb tenderly over his velvety cheek. Then he watched as Quinlan tried to feed Annie, except Quinlan's stomach growled.

So Griff stabbed a piece of pancake with a fork, nudging it against Quinlan's pretty pink lips.

"You're not supposed to feed me," Quinlan grumbled. He closed his mouth around Griff's pancake anyway, and that sent tingles through Griff's entire body.

"You look so good when you eat my food," Griff whispered. "I will cook more for you."

Quinlan snorted. "Just so you can stick it in my mouth?"

Griff grinned. "Yes."

Annie flung a piece of scrambled egg at Griff's neck, and Griff didn't even mind. He caught it in his hands and ate it, which made Quinlan shake his head and smile.

Halfway through breakfast, Quinlan opened his mouth, his pulse ramping up.

He looked Griff in the eye. His cheeks turned red. Griff waited for him to say something, except Quinlan's shoulders sagged and he looked away, his expression unreadable.

"What's wrong?" Griff asked softly.

Quinlan glanced at Annie, and shook his head. "Maybe later."

Was he thinking about leaving again? That made Griff's breakfast turn sour in his stomach.

"I will be the best dragon husband you can ever ask for," Griff whispered.

But those words only made Quinlan grimace. Was he looking... guilty?

Was this about Annie again?

Griff's heart sank.

"I'll tell you later," Quinlan said. "When—When we're at my apartment."

"Okay," Griff answered.

Was Quinlan going to reject Griff, like so many other people had before?