He lengthens his neck and lets out another ear-splitting crowing noise. I lift a pillow and chuck it at him, proud when it smacks him right in his face. He looks down at the silk fluff and then steps right over it, heading inside.
Eyes wide, I scramble off the bed and try to rush toward him, shaking my head with my hands out. “Oh no you don’t. We’ve talked about this. No coming into the bedroom in your cockatrice form!” I tell him.
He stops in front of me, but he’s already crossed the barrier. He has to duck down so he doesn’t hit the ceiling and tuck his wings in since his beast is so massive. The once giant room now seems way too small with him in it.
“Out,” I say sternly, pointing toward the door. His cockatrice gives a sad little trill, but I hold firm. “Your claws are wrecking the hardwood, and your feathers are—wait,” I stop, my eyes narrowing. “Do you have something in your mouth?”
His head bobs excitedly, and then he leans over, tipping his beak open. Huge rocks come spilling from his mouth and slam onto the floor with loud cracks, as pieces of sand fall down with them in a dusty rainfall. I have to jump back before any of the big rocks land on me and crush my toes.
Now the hardwood is definitely wrecked by the damn boulders that he just dropped at my feet like an offering. But honestly, these rocks are dope.
I gasp when I spot one in particular. “Oh my God, is that a basanite?” I ask, leaning down to snatch it up.
I try to snatch it up. It’s really fucking heavy and big, so I have to settle for wrapping my adoring arms around it and giving it an appreciative hug. “Pretty,” I purr as I stroke the rock. My cockatrice is so flattered right now.
I stare at the boulders dreamily for another second and then look back up at Rook. “That’s super sweet, but seriously, no cockatrices in the house. You know the rules. Either shift or get out,” I remind him, my arm extended and my finger pointed out toward the balcony. “And take your rocks—”
Rook shifts before I can finish my sentence, and despite his glorious nakedness, I glare at him. “Oh sure, just leave the boulders in the middle of the room,” I snark.
He rubs at his chest and looks over at today’s haul proudly. “Got you some basanite,” he tells me with a self-satisfied smile and an eyebrow wag.
I roll my eyes at the cocky cockatrice. “I see that. Couldn’t have found a smaller sample to impress me with?” I ask, pointing to the massive rock that will now be a permanent fixture in our room until his cockatrice gets over himself and hefts it out.
“This one was so pretty, though,” he defends, and I shake my head at him, trying not to smile.
“It’s super pretty,” I reassure him. “But you have to be logical about it. What the hell am I supposed to do with these massive things? I can’t exactly put them on a shelf like a knickknack. Not to mention, this will be the third time we’ll have to refinish the floors in the last two months! Why can’t your cockatrice just put them in the rock garden and take me down to see them there?” I offer. “Remember all the things we did on the obsidian boulder when you put it in the garden instead of fucking up the house with it?”
His eyes gleam, and I know he remembers really well.
“So only let your beast bring me nice, hand-sized rocks indoors, okay?”
“I like the big ones,” he argues. “They call to me.”
“Well, then answer the fucking call in the rock garden!” I snap suddenly. I pause and give myself the side-eye for that one. I take a deep breath and release it slowly. “Sorry. I’m cranky. I really do love the basanite.”
His smug smile returns. “I know. It’s awesome. But I have a few more rocks to give you.”
I give him a look. “Rook, I know I’m your amazing mate and everything, but you’ve gotta slow down on the rock-giving. You’re going to make my cockatrice spoiled rotten.”
“I like spoiling my mate,” he says as he walks over to his bedside table. He opens a drawer and digs around before grabbing something and heading back over to me with his