Daddy Shifter by Juniper Hart

Author:Juniper Hart [Hart, Juniper]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-12-15T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

“Wow,” Cassia said, looking around. “Your home is beautiful.”

Terran took a seat with a smile. “Thank you. Please, make yourself at home. I didn’t expect any visitors, so it’s a bit of a mess.”

There it was—Terran’s needless apologies for the mess. He rarely apologized, but when he did, it was almost always about some silly little thing that nobody was worried about. He was something of a clean freak. Everything had its spot. Cassia saw a robe hanging over the edge of the couch. That was Terran’s mess.

She slipped her heels off and wiggled her toes in the carpet. It felt heavenly. “Looks better than my place.”

Terran smiled and looked at Cassia deeply, as if trying to remember every detail about her face. He shook himself out of his stupor. “I’m going to call in what you told me. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

The dragon shifter went off to privately call the EDJ while Cassia walked over to the couch in front of his monstrous television. The couch nearly devoured her. She yelped and pulled her way out before she vanished into the cushions. She’d forgotten how soft Terran liked the furniture. Cassia was the exact opposite. She wanted rigidity and despised sitting in anything that felt like it was swallowing her.

Her hand flew out and hit a picture off the small table on the side of the couch. Using her good reflexes, she caught it before it hit the ground and set it back.

But wait.

She frowned as she saw the picture on it. It wasn’t a true picture, but it was a sketch. She’d drawn it for Terran back when they’d first met of a frog she’d found. It wasn’t a great sketch; she’d certainly improved over the centuries. Back then she’d barely had a grasp around anatomy and shading, so it looked amateurish.

He’d kept it. He’d kept it for nearly eight hundred years. She remembered drawing it, but it was just a silly thing. She never expected him to actually care about it. She stared at it, hard. He’d kept it and framed it in her memory.

Guilt. It was there suddenly like a bus, running her over and flattening her. She’d been cruel to him. Had he been perfect? No. But she’d rejected him when he was just trying to make her happy. All she knew was that she had been hurt. He had apologized endlessly for losing his temper, sending her flowers and gifts in the hope he could win her back.

He’d kept a sketch she’d done and framed it so he could remember her. Even after two centuries, he’d not given up on her. Even though she knew he’d dated other women since her, it seemed he still kept the hope they’d end up together again.

The bus of guilt backed up over her again.

Terran came out from another room. “I called it in.” He noticed her staring at the picture. “Oh, hey. You found it. You remember that?”

“Like it was yesterday,” she replied. “I don’t really understand it.

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