“Well,” Viking said, kicking down hard on his anger. “The food that you make now is for everyone, even you, baby. You want a muffin or bread or a burger or anything – you just have it.”
She tilted her head at him, her face framed by intricate black braids that resembled wreaths of flowers. With her bright purple eyes, pink cheeks, and red-rose lips, she looked pre-Raphaelite: delicate and yet vibrant.
“You know what,” Iris said. “You’re right. Time to break the habit of denial, huh?”
“You know it,” Dux said. “Starting with a muffin!”
She took the top muffin and looked at it for a few seconds, examining her work. Then she took a bite and looked surprised. “I don’t remember them being that sweet.”
“Your taste buds are off,” Cain told her. “They really aren’t sweet at all.”
“Yeah, well,
