Except it didn’t, because there were a dozen other places in my house where she could have slept. The couch in the living room. The chair. Hell, even the floor of her own room would have been more appropriate than this.
I ran a hand through my hair, fingers catching on a few tangles.
When I finally turned, she was watching me. Her eyes traveled down to my chest before she looked away.
“You can’t sleep in my bed. I barely know you, and you’re a demon.” Although it was the truth, I still felt like an asshole.
She sighed as she stood and dropped the duvet onto the bed. I grabbed it and straightened it out.
“If I wasn’t a demon, would you let me?” I expected her to be upset about my comment on her being a demon. Instead, she sounded pissed. “I bet a man like you has had worse in his bed.”
She stood with her hands on her hips, giving me that look women give you when you’re in the doghouse. Shit, was she going to make me go sleep on the couch in my own house?
I put my hand on the button of my jeans but stopped because I wasn’t wearing anything underneath. “What’s that supposed to mean? You have a perfectly good bed downstairs.”
I slipped into bed with my jeans still on. The fabric bunched uncomfortably at my hips, but I didn’t adjust it. If I pretended to sleep, maybe she’d take the hint and leave.
I became hyperaware of every sound in the room. The soft rustle of fabric—was she leaving? The quiet intake of breath that seemed too loud in the silence.
I kept my breathing steady. In through the nose, out through the mouth. The kind of rhythm that suggested deep,peaceful slumber rather than the performance it actually was.
I knew it was childish. I was older than most civilizations, and here I was, playing possum in my own bed because I didn’t know how to navigate whatever this was.
The weight of her gaze pressed against my skin. I could feel it, even through my closed eyelids. My jaw tightened involuntarily before I forced it to relax. Dead weight. That’s what sleeping people were. Dead weight with slack muscles and peaceful expressions.
I tried to summon that peace and smooth out whatever tension was written across my face.
But then she spoke.
“A man and a woman can sleep in the same bed together and not have sex. I do it all the time.” The mattress bounced, and I opened my eyes to find her settling in on the other side of the bed. “I’m in a strange place, and I’m used to sharing a bed with a man. I promise not to touch you.”
I rolled onto my side and narrowed my eyes at her. “What’s so wrong with you that a man would share your bed and not try to have sex with you? Do you have tentacles going on down there?” I waved my hand around, gesturing below her waist.
A look of hurt washed over her face but was quickly replaced by anger. She sat up, grabbed a pillow, and whacked me with it.
I admit, I deserved it.
“You’re an asshole.” It wasn’t the first time I’d been called one, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
She fluffed the pillow and lay back down. Apparently, she was sleeping in my bed.
I woketo the sound of vibrating on my nightstand. It took me a minute to process that Samara was on my side of the bed, with her leg thrown over mine and her head on my chest.
I reached for my cell phone, trying not to jostle her. She made a noise but didn’t wake up.
Alex, an incubus demon and the primary contact in Inferna, had texted me back. He was in charge of Hell when Lucifer wasn’t present, which had been a lot recently.
Alex:
Valentino Sangre, northern vampire leader, is holding a fire elemental, a squirrel, a wolf, and a gargoyle in cells. They are searching the forest for Samara Luna, the princess. The vampires want the crown.
First, the demons tried to break through to Earth, and now this? Lilith wasn’t the first demon to get through. The vampires took that prize centuries ago when they stole a drop of Lucifer’s blood with a small contraption hidden in a pen.
We should have ended them then, but the other archangels balked at the idea, despite having to cover up the damage they did on Earth.
Samara moved against me and groaned. My body stiffened because it sounded a lot like the type of groan every man wants to hear.
“Yes… right there, Nico.” Was she… yes, yes, she was grinding against me. “A little more, Val.” A whimper. Another groan. “Harder, Amari.”
