After some recovery time.
Extracting herself from the bed in a long series of tiny movements, Petra managed to hobble to the bathroom. Every step tightened the band of shadow around her throat. It wasn’t enough to cut off her air, but a gentle, proprietary squeeze — like even in sleep Silas wanted to remind her who she belonged to.
And, perhaps, to not wander too far away.
After taking care of business and partially unsnarling her hair — a nearly hopeless endeavor — she donned one of his t-shirts and tip-toed around the room, cleaning up the clothing, food containers, pillows, and blankets strewn across the floor. That done, she adjusted the blanket over the window to completely block out the sun and left her mate to sleep.
Creeping down the stairs as quietly as she could, Petra wandered into the kitchen and discovered a disaster zone.
She stood in the doorway for a long while, blinking the grit from her eyes as she took in the state of the place. Since she had no memories of leaving the bedroom, it must have been Silas who destroyed it. There were containers open everywhere. Packaged food was torn open and left all over the kitchen table, counters, and even the floor. Empty jugs of electrolyte beverage were everywhere, like he’d chugged them and then thrown them aside.
“Good gods.” Laughter bubbled up. Petra rubbed her watering eyes, her shoulders shaking, and imagined Silas careening into the kitchen between bouts of raw, borderline violent and depraved sex to guzzle hydration.
Living through a rut and now seeing the reality of its toll in the kitchen left her marveling at how demons got anything done at all.
Yes, other beings experienced mating frenzies — orcs and shifters and even weres, she was pretty sure — but the rut was unlike anything she could’ve imagined. There was sex. Therewas even wild, out of control, uninhibited fucking. And then there was therut.
No wonder Silas passed out,she thought, picking a path around wrappers and jugs and tupperware lids he’d tossed hither and yon.Next time we should have a couple IV drips ready.
Shaking her head, Petra found some cheese to nibble on before she set about putting the kitchen to rights. The soreness and sharp stinging between her thighs was bad, but it felt good to be moving around again, so she did her best to ignore it. Taking a dose of painkillers she found in a first aid kit below the kitchen sink helped, too.
She didn’t possess an abundance of energy, so she didn’t try to do more than a cursory cleaning before she threw together a hasty breakfast. Scrambled eggs, left-over seasoned potatoes, cheese, and hot sauce went into three breakfast burritos she piled on a plate. Hooking her fingers through the handle of the only full jug of electrolyte drink left, she carefully balanced her load as she walked back up the stairs.
Nudging the bedroom door open with her bare toes, she found Silas in the same position she’d left him, except he’d moved a few inches to the left to press his face into her pillow. It was a little too dark inside for her to eat comfortably, so she chose to keep the bedroom door open, allowing a little bit of ambient light from the hallway inside. Of course, it also helped air the room out — something it desperately needed.
She didn’t want to wake him, but after seeing the state of the kitchen, she was certain he hadn’t eaten a full meal in too long. The thought of him being hungry made her skin go clammy.
Huh. That’s new.
She’d been scarred by food insecurity for her entire adult life, so her anxieties in themselves weren’t novel. They were simply a part of her, like bumps in a road frequently traveled.
It was rare that her issues surprised her. Of course she hated the thought of anyone going hungry, knowing what torture it was, but she’d never felt the same uneasiness she experienced when her caches went low for another person before. She’d certainly never broken into a cold sweat over her uncle missing a meal.
But Silas was her mate, and she supposed that made everything different. He’d taken care of her even when he was out of his mind. Now it was her turn.
Petra sat on the edge of the bed and deposited the plate and jug down on the bedside table. Attention snared by the supplement bottles there, she was surprised to find them nearly empty.
Petra had to curl her fingers into the sheets to keep from reaching for him.Even when he was out of his mind, he remembered to give me my supplements.
And he had the audacity to say he’d never been sweet a day in his life. She shook her head at the thought.
A quick look inside the drawers confirmed her suspicion that they’d blown through most of the stash he’d put there, too. That eased her mind a little. Clearly hedideat. Probably not enough to sustain his thick slabs of muscle, but she knew from experience that something was always better than nothing.
Leaning down to comb her fingers through his messy curls, Petra murmured, “Sweetheart.”
The muscles of his shoulders bunched and released, but he otherwise remained blissfully unaware of her. A smile tugged at her mouth. Petra ran her fingertips over the dull point of his ear and was delighted to find it was ever-so-slightly fuzzy.
“Sweetheart, you need to eat,” she crooned, watching what she could make out of his expression twitch in response to her ticklish caress. When he still didn’t open his eyes, she blew a softbreath against the shell of his ear. “C’mon, demon. Wake up and eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”
Silas shifted his weight beneath her. At last, he mumbled into the pillow, “Y’made breakfast?” He turned his head just enough to allow one lambent eye to peer at her.
“I figured you’d be hungry.” Petra stroked the curls away from his eye. “I made breakfast burritos. It’s nothing fancy, but?—”
One heavy arm wrapped loosely around her waist. Silas pressed his face into her thigh and let out a long sigh. His shadows slithered around her legs, but even they didn’t seem as demanding as usual.
“Y’okay?”
Petra patted the top of his head. “Yeah, I’m okay. Worn out and sore, but otherwise perfectly fine. You gonna sit up to eat?”
