Page 26 of Cosmo

Oh dear… “How do you feel about television?”

He knew how he felt about television—which was the boob tube was a fabulous thing, and there was a reason that he had agreed to become the guardian of the veil.

He not only got cable; he got Amazon deliveries on a regular basis, because goddess knew those at the Estes clan had requests.

Daily.

He was going to buy stock in Doritos.

Chapter

Seven

Hawk wandered in Cosmo’s part of the house.

They’d had breakfast. TV and snacks. He liked Funyuns. They tasted like onions, but dry and strange.

He also liked the sweet and salty nuts. Where he’d lived, there had been hazelnuts. So fresh.

When he’d told Cosmo that, Cosmo had made him a coffee with hazelnut-flavored syrup…

But now Cosmo was with his brothers, who had insisted on some sort of family meeting. So he started in the tower, just seeing what parts of his house had carried over.

The tower room was obviously, where Cosmo had spent most of his time, and in the restroom, which had been…modernized and made glorious.

Bathing with a lover was proving to be stunning.

The walls were draped with silken scarves woven with patterns of every color of pink and red and blue that he could imagine.

There were dozens and dozens of tiny strings with crystals in them to sparkle when the light hit. The bed was his, of course, and he remembered it fondly.

But the blankets and the pillows and the curtains? Those were all his Rose.

Someone liked his creature comforts.

He stared at the big wardrobe that was in the corner. He remembered that as well. The wardrobe held clothes.

He stared at it.

That wardrobe held clothes. His clothes. He needed comfortable clothes.

He stared, and he could feel lava bubbling up inside of his belly.

The magic waited, right there.

“I need clothes,” he whispered, and the wardrobe seemed to tremble in the space where it was sitting.

“I need clothes,” he said, just a little louder.

He could feel the magic in this place waking up. Or maybe it was him that was waking up. It didn’t matter. He could feel it rumbling from deep within the mountain, and all he had to do was reach for it.

“I need clothes,” he roared, the house shaking, and the wardrobe door popped open. Spilling dozens and dozens of sweaters and T-shirts and soft, comfortable pants and hats and scarves.

And boots and slippers—oh, he’d loved slippers—came pouring out.

That was better.

Cosmo came running in. “What the hell was that?”

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