Micah woke slowly, nestled down into the most comfortable bed ever. As his eyes fluttered open, he heard little whining snores. He smiled as he looked down at the hellhoundcat pups that were snuggled against him in bed. Little Bau had nestled down under the covers curled up next to him, and only her ears were currently visible.
A louder snore interrupted his thoughts, and he realized with a start that Azgoth, Lord of House Kurush, was stretched out on the other side of him, arms spread wide over the covers, his upper body decorated by the light that filtered in through the window. Micah hungrily traced the lines of his muscled chest with his eyes down to where it disappeared under the covers.
“Like what you see, my Packmaster?” Micah gasped as he looked up, the demon lord smiling wickedly at him from his lazy position on the pillows.
“Good morning, my dears!” a cheerful voice called out entering the room. A demoness that reminded him strongly of Janal came over holding a tray of coffee and pastries.
“Mother,” Azgoth groaned. “What are you doing here so early?”
“Why bringing you two some breakfast of course. I sent Arka out to get supplies for the pups. He’s setting them up in your kitchen.” Just then the three pups scrambled out of bed, heading straight into the adjoining room, excited yips and wisps of balefire trailing in their wake. Whatever this Arka had found apparently smelled enticing enough to draw the pups from their bed.
“Um, thank you, my Lady,” Micah said, mind still hazy but trying to focus on Azgoth’s mother. He could swear Azgoth told him her name yesterday, but he couldn’t dredge it up.
“Oh, no problem, I’m sure you’re still recovering from the binding. It’ll take a few days, I think. But here, try some of this coffee. It’s my favourite blend,” she said handing him a cup. “And it’s Lady Zorol, but you can just call me Mama Z.”
“Mama Z? Where the heck did that come from?” Azgoth asked, sounding shocked.
“I’ve been waiting to use that one forever if you must know. Now then boys, I’ll just leave the coffee here and let you two get dressed and ready. I’ll be in the kitchen with the pups, and make sure they don’t corner poor Arka.”
Micah looked over at Azgoth after she swept out of the room, then took a sip of the coffee.
“Oh my god, this is the best coffee ever! I love your mother,” he found himself saying.
“Awww. Aren’t you just the sweetest. We’re keeping him, Azgoth ,” Lady Zorol called from the other room.
Azgoth just took a cup of coffee, downed it, then collapsed back onto the pillows. “I’m keeping him. He’s my Packmaster.”
“Nonsense. He’s the House Packmaster, so I get dibs as well,” she retorted. Micah wasn’t sure why she had left the room if she was just going to continue to argue. Oh, right. He was supposed to be getting dressed. He looked around for clothes and startled when Azgoth handled him a set of clothing adorned in his house colors. He started pulling on the extremely comfortable pants as the argument continued around him.
“Nope. I bound him as my personal Packmaster,” Azgoth yelled back, and Micah could hear the “so there!” in his voice.
“You did what?” Lady Zorol demanded, striding back into the room. Micah yelped as he hurried to finish buttoning the pants, and rolled his eyes to see Azgoth still lounging in his bed in his sleep pants, a smug look on his face.