He scowls, refusing to meet my eyes. “Yes, that's the one. He knew more about mensurating than I do.”
I swallow a giggle. “Menstruating.”
“Close enough. Now which?—”
“It is not close enough. One is the shedding of the lining in the uterus and the other is something about measuring things, I'm pretty sure.” I roll around until I'm sitting and grip a pillow in my lap. I don't know why, but it helps.
He huffs and his shadows gather near his ass, forming into a tail. I open my mouth to ask about it, but he shakes the box at me.
“I didn't know as much about periods. Better? Now, which do you need?” He gazes down at the many types of hygiene products.
“Did you buy the entire store? Seriously, no one within a twenty-mile radius will have—is that a pregnancy test?” I scramble off the bed and start digging through everything.
“I didn't buy all of it. Just one of each. And that thing”—he points at the pregnancy test—”was next to everything else. Dimitri said there were a lot of options and I shouldn't get the wrong one.”
I press my lips together, keeping another giggle inside as I hold up a small box. “And this?”
He tilts his head and narrows his dark eyes. “I don't know what that is. It was on the top shelf. I only got one of them, though. The others looked…questionable.”
“Oh? A vibrator looked questionable? Gotcha.”
“What is it?”
I bite my lip and hide my face until I've straightened my face out. “This is for personal time. Tell me I don't have to explain that.”
It hits me then that I should probably be embarrassed. Not because I'm holding a sex toy he bought, but because the last time I saw him, he caught me with a vibrator. Clearly he didn't see underneath the sheets. Maybe he's trolling me and I completely missed it.
“You don't have to explain personal time,” he murmurs, smirking, and my cheeks flame.
I drop the box among the others and tuck my chin to my chest. I don't need him to see me wincing and think it's something other than more pain. He'll probably try to weasel a confession out of me or make some ridiculous comment again. He seems to like messing with me. It's the only explanation I can come up with for his borderline flirting.
Calling me a good girl wasn't him hitting on me. Normally, I wouldn't be so adamant, even to myself, about someone's intentions. I'd just ask them what their endgame was. Except Omen is a demon—one I forced to be here. They don't want to be with witches. We're a step above humans in their eyes, not quite as disdained, but enough to stay away from.
I swallow hard and press a fist against my stomach. “Thank you for all this. You didn't have to do all this. And you don't have to wait around here. I'm sure?—”
“Stop telling me I have better things to do,” he growls. He gathers up all the items and arranges them on one side of the room.
“You don't have to do that.”
His shoulders stiffen, his tail lashing back and forth, then he spins around. I don't have time to protest before he picks me up and sets me in the middle of the mattress. I get half a squawk out when he flips the covers over my body, leaving only my head exposed. He stomps back to his self-imposed job of sorting things.
“Tell me which ones you use,” he demands.
I'm afraid to say anything so I just point at one of them. He snatches up the box and raises an eyebrow. I nod and he stomps off to the bathroom. I flip onto my side away from the door and pull my knees to my chest.
Another wave of dull pain washes over me, and I bury my face in the pillow. I thought the meds I took earlier would help, but my aches are back with a vengeance. I just have to wait for the wave to be over and my cramps will settle into the background. Hopefully, I'll be able to fall asleep and everything will be fine when I wake up.
“Sleeping won't make me go away, little witch.”
“What exactly do you want me to do, Omen?You threatened to kill someone, bought me supplies, then put me to bed. The only time I've gotten any relief was when the damn cat showed up, but it was you. So, excuse me for not knowing what the fuck I'm supposed to do.”
“None of that made any sense, but that's fine. You're clearly still in pain so I'll excuse your behavior.”
I launch upright, a growl rumbling through the room. “I will gut you if you use that patronizing tone again, demon. Until you've felt what I currently do, you have no room to criticize my tone or words.”
He holds up his hands and his throat bobs. “I didn't mean it like that.”
“Then how exactly did you mean it?” My challenge hangs between us and his mouth flops open like a fish out of water. Of course he doesn't have an answer. Because he was being an asshole. He's not the first person I've encountered who's dismissed my pain and called me out on what they perceive to be a shitty attitude. And he won't be the last.
