Page 74 of My Tiny Giant

Chapter 15

T HE DRAWBACK OF HAVING an entire wall made of glass in a small apartment like mine was that on a bright sunny morning there was no escape from sunlight. No matter how many leaves and vines there were on the patio behind the glass, the morning light flooded the entire space inside.

A relentless sunray had made its way between all the leaves, branches, and flowers and sat right on my face the morning two days after the first evaluation I’d taken Agan to. I yawned and stretched, wondering if I should get up and move the long pot with the vine-covered lattice that worked as a screen between my bed from the living area or if I should order Helix to do it for me, instead.

Then, it occurred to me that with the sun that bright already, it was probably time to get up anyway. Agan needed to go back to the Army Headquarters for his next evaluation.

With another stretch, I rolled out of bed...then froze, staring at the spot where I had laid Agan last night after he’d fallen asleep on my chest as he did every night now.

An arm was draped over the blanket roll I’d used to protect him from being accidentally crushed by me in my sleep. The arm had Agan’s tattoos and muscle definition, except that it was now longer than his entire body had been yesterday.

He’d grown!

My heart leaped with excitement then froze in fear. His words about the yirzi dying upon returning to their original size filled me with horror.

This wasn’t his original size—far from it—but he had grown.

Afraid to breathe, I padded around the bed to his side.

“Agan...” I called in a small voice, fisting tight my ice-cold hands to stop them from shaking. “Honey...”

I sank to my knees, torn between the urge to shake him awake and the terror that he might not wake up at all.

Completely naked, he lay on his stomach, one arm hugging the blanket roll, a leg bent, and his long tail draped over his thigh. At about a foot and a half now, he was still a much smaller version of his former self.

No matter his size, however, Agan had never looked delicate or childish. His proportions always remained those of a grown man, strong and masculine. Lying in my bed, he reminded me of a work of art, each muscular limb sculpted to perfection. His wavy, sandy-blond hair framed his head like a golden halo, shimmering in the sunlight.

I desperately hoped he was simply sleeping.

“Agan, sweetie...” I stroked his shoulder, fighting the lump forming in my throat. “Please...”

He sucked in a long breath, rolling to his back.

He was alive!

Relief coursed through me in a rush. It felt like life had fully returned to me, too.

“Thank goodness!” I exhaled. Climbing onto the bed, next to him, I kissed his face then his chest.

“Well... Good morning.” He smiled, squinting in the light while being showered with my kisses. “What a great way to wake up.”

“How are you feeling?” I rose on my arms over him.

“Excellent!” He stretched through his entire body then wound his tail around my wrist, anchoring me to him. “Not sure what you were doing, but please carry on.”

“Are you absolutely positive you’re feeling okay?” I searched his face for any signs of illness or weakness.

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