LyricHe is infuriating in the mornings.That's the thing no one tells you about mating with an ancient, immortal Lycan king - they don't have alarm clocks in their soul. Noah wakes up at whatever hour he decides to wake up, which is invariably an hour before I'm ready, and then he just lies there, being pointedly awake at me."I can feel you staring," I tell him."I'm not staring. I'm looking.""What's the difference?""Staring implies something unflattering. I'm appreciating what I have."I open one eye. He's propped up on one elbow, looking down at me with those steel grey eyes and that insufferable almost-smile that he knows I cannot resist. His dark hair is doing something architectural that shouldn't be attractive and absolutely is."It's too early," I tell him."It's past nine.""It's too early," I say again, on principle.He laughs, the sound is low and warm, and drops back down beside me, pulling me into him. I let him because this one specific thing, the solid warmth of him
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