He paused in the doorway, his broad shoulders tensing. “It’s… complicated. Sometimes I can feel the distinction clearly. Other times, the lines blur.” He looked back at me, a wry smile on his face. “Right now, Malphas knows you’re in danger from your apartment situation and wants to provide protection. Gary is worried about whether the guest room sheets have a high enough thread count.”
I laughed, and after a moment, he joined in.
“Goodnight, Sam,” he said finally.
“Night, Malphas.”
After he left, I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to process the absurdity of my situation. I was in a demon’s guest bedroom, about to sleep on his high-thread-count sheets, with the promise of breakfast in the morning.
This should be terrifying,I thought.So why does it feel so… nice?
Chapter 4
I woke to the smell of coffee and bacon. For a moment, I was disoriented, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. Then the events of the previous night came rushing back.
Right. Flooded apartment. Demon savior. Suburban sleepover.
After a quick shower in the guest bathroom (which was stocked with surprisingly nice toiletries), I followed the enticing breakfast smells downstairs.
Malphas stood at the stove, his back to me, wearing jeans and a tight black t-shirt. The domestic scene was so charmingly incongruous with his massive horns and crimson skin that I had to smile.
“Morning,” I said.
He turned, spatula in hand. “Good morning. I hope you slept well.”
“Like the dead,” I replied, then winced. “Sorry, probably a poor choice of words around a… um…”
“Soul harvester?” he supplied, looking amused. “It’s fine. Coffee?”
I nodded gratefully, and he poured me a mug from what appeared to be a high-end coffee maker. The mug he handed me read “World’s Best Demon” with the “Demon” part clearly written over another word in permanent marker.
Breakfast was delicious—perfect bacon, fluffy scrambled eggs, and toast with homemade jam that Malphas informed me he’d canned himself last summer.
“So,” he said as we ate, “I called your landlord this morning.”
I nearly choked on my coffee. “You what?”
“I persuaded him that the situation requires immediate professional attention,” Malphas continued calmly, taking a sip from his own mug. “A restoration crew will be there at nine. Unfortunately, the damage is extensive enough that the repairs will take at least two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” I set down my fork. “Fuck. I guess I need to find a long-term hotel.”
Malphas hesitated, then said, “You could stay here.”
I blinked at him. “Here? With you?”
“The guest room is just sitting empty,” he pointed out. “And this way, you won’t have to spend money on a hotel.” His eyes flickered briefly red. “Plus, I can ensure the restoration crew doesn’t cut corners on the repairs.”
It was a tempting offer. My freelance income was steady but not extravagant, and two weeks in a hotel would seriously dent my savings. Plus, Malphas’s house was comfortable, and despite his intimidating appearance, I felt strangely safe around him.
And you think he’s hot,my brain helpfully supplied.Smoking hot. Literally. You wonder what those big hands would feel like on—
“That’s really generous,” I interrupted my own inappropriate thoughts. “But I don’t want to impose.”
“It’s not an imposition,” Malphas insisted. “In fact…” He looked slightly embarrassed. “It might be nice to have company. Gary’s influence makes me crave social interaction, but my demonic nature tends to… unnerve people.”
The vulnerability in his admission caught me off guard. I tried to imagine how isolating it must be—too demonic for humans, too humanized for demons.
“Okay,” I found myself saying. “If you’re sure, then yes. Thank you.”
