But tonight—
Tonight I have a loyal cat, a best friend snoring next to me on the sleeper-sofa, and the faint hum of a city that doesn’t care who I used to be.
It’s not peace.
But it’s close enough.
7
Lucian
The morning sun filters through a gap in the curtains that Orion was too lazy to completely close.
I blink awake slowly, my pulse kicking up with that familiar, disoriented panic that hits before I remember where I am. Nashville. Hotel. Cat. Orion.
Our room smells like hotel air and overpriced detergent. Somewhere nearby, an HVAC unit hums like it’s on its last leg, and my body is wrapped around something warm.
Too warm.
What the—
I know for a fact that when I fell asleep, it was just me and Sass in bed; Orion was on the pull-out by himself.
Oh, hell no.
I pull back an inch and see a bare shoulder. That is way too white to be mine.
Orion.
The man has migrated across the room in his sleep and is now sprawled beside me, completely unaware of the violation. He’s lying on his back, one arm crooked under the pillow, his blond hair sticking up in every direction like he tossed and turned all night. The sheet’s tangled around his hips, thank God, and he’s radiating heat like a furnace.
I swear under my breath and try to ease away without waking him. Then something tugs sharply at the back of my head.
I pause.
Not again.
Slowly, very slowly, I reach back and brush against fur.
Of course.
Sir Sass is perched directly on top of my hair, curled like a furry headphone set. At my movement, his entire body vibrates with content, purring loud enough to wake the dead. Or, in this case, Orion.
I try to whisper, “Buddy, c’mon,” but Sass only wiggles deeper into my scalp like he’s anchoring himself to the Earth’s core.
I attempt to lift him gently.
He clings harder.
I pull again.
He trills a soft warning chirp like,Do not test me, father.
And then he stands up.
On my head.
On my actual. Damn. Head. Before hopping off—straight onto Orion’s bare chest.
