“I can only imagine your struggle. Must be so hard to resist all of this.” He gestures down his body, and I immediately look at the ceiling so I don’t follow the path of his hand.
“You’re a walking headache. And delusional if you think you’re sleeping on my bed. Go get the mattress from your room.”
“You’re going to make your mate sleep on the floor? Fates won’t like that.”
Oh, cry me a fucking river.
“Fates are lucky I haven’t killed you in your sleep. A mattress is already an upgrade from the floor you’ve been sleeping on like a fucking stalker.”
Dean groans like a child, then leaves to fetch a thick, obnoxiously fluffy mattress.
I slip into bed and watch him drag the mattress beside my bed, piling it with a ridiculous number of pillows. Who needs that many? Andtwoblankets? This man is so extra.
I switch off the lamp once he settles and bury my face in my pillow. I want to turn away and pretend there isn’t a living, breathing man sleeping on the floor right next to me, but something in me refuses to move.
I take a deep breath, teeth clenching when the fresh detergent replaces Dean’s scent. Oh, Lucifer. What have I become?
“Hazel?” He whispers, knuckles tapping the side of the bed.
“What?”
“I’m scared of the dark. Can I hold your hand?”
This delusional motherf—
“Sure. If you want to get stabbed.”
When I think he’s finally fallen asleep, he says my name again.
He’s lucky his presence calms the storm in my head, or I would’ve kicked him out by now.
I sigh. “What is it?”
“Can you stop acting like the world will end if you let your guard down? I’m right here. You don’t have to do this alone.”
“I can handle my own problems,” I mutter, the same rehearsed line that keeps everyone out.
“But I don’t want you to handle everything alone. I know you’re stubborn, and you won’t just take my word for it, but I’m not going anywhere.”
You will. When Tiberius comes for your family, you’ll have no choice but to let me go.
“I can’t stand by and watch you fall apart anymore.”
I want to bristle at that. I can handle myself perfectly fine. I don’t need help. But the anger never lands, drowned by the softness in his voice.
“I’m not afraid of your past, Hazel—or Tiberius, that finned fucker. Let me in, hellfire.”
Hellfire. A small smile tugs at my lips.
“I’ll try,” I whisper after a moment, more to myself than to him.
“Can I hold your hand now?”
“No!” I laugh.
I never thought a night like this would end in laughter, but Dean has a way of dragging smiles out of me, whether I want them or not.
11. Caveman vibes
