This is madness personified. My brain tells me to be afraid, to worry he’ll eat me. My body tells me he’s the safety I’ve been craving. Whatever magic this is, I’m too tired to fight it. Still, I tiptoe to the kitchen and grab the salt before I slide in next to him. By the time I’ve built a pillow dam, I’m too tired to fight sleep.
Soft. My little spitfire is incredibly soft.
I tighten my grip on her and bury my face in—a pillow. My eyes fly open and I jerk back. Instead of holding Mari like I was in my dreams, I’m clutching a fluffy oversized pillow. I can just make out Mari’s sleeping face across the wall she’s built between us. I’d be offended, except I can’t blame her. We’ve been thrown together. Add in my status as a demon and I’m not winning any points with her.
She sighs, turning onto her side to face me. Her long dark lashes flutter across her cheeks, and her plum-colored hair curls around her neck. My fingers twitch, and I fight the urge to brush the strands back. Or twist them around my fist and kiss the shit out of her.
Strangers, Dimitri. You’re strangers.
I’m surprised she didn’t banish me back to Hell. I doubt I would have been able to leave, though. Every time I pop back here, I ping-pong between feeling like shit and feeling betterthan I ever have in my existence. I’m loath to attribute the latter to her presence. I’m already dancing a fine line. It’s more likely that as my bones settle in the dimension, I’m good. Then the curse finds me and attacks my magic once more. It leaves me wobbly, and before long I pass out.
I wish I wouldn’t have gone comatose in her bed. She probably cussed me out. I wonder if she tried to move me. She’s tall enough, but with all my hours running the gauntlet, I’ve got more than a few pounds of muscle on me.
When I can’t take it anymore, I slip my arm from under the pillows. Lightly, I brush her forehead with my thumb. She mumbles in her sleep, and I freeze, then pull my hand away, tucking it back under my head. I clutch the pillow against my chest with my other arm. When her fingers latch onto my wrist, I hold my breath. She’s got a good grip.
Mari mumbles again and tugs my hand closer until my fist is curled under her chin. She clings to me like a lifeline, and I wonder what she’s dreaming. Part of me wishes I could see into her head. It would help me figure out what she’s hiding.
She doesn’t want lessons on demons. She may be curious, but this is something else. I haven’t been well enough to do any research and part of me doesn’t want to. Finding information about humans is easy, witches are a little harder. Still, I’d be invading her privacy. When I looked up Clara, I found only the most basic of things. Mari’s situation would require me to dig deep.
I don’t know how long I lie there, watching her while she clutches my wrist. By the time her lids flutter again, the arm under my head is numb and my stomach grumbles.
She blinks at me and, for once, I have nothing to say. My thoughts are quiet instead of running a million miles a minute. It’s as if her touch calms me in a way I’ve never experiencedin the centuries I’ve been around. I keep expecting her mind to catch up to her actions and for her to shove me away.
“Hi,” she breathes, then yawns, ducking her face under the edge of the comforter.
“Morning.”
“Is it morning? I’ve been waking up at two. And four. And five, for weeks.”
“In the afternoon?”
She gives me a look, her lips twitching. “In the morning, demon. This is the first full night’s sleep I’ve had in a week.”
“Since you got sick?” My heart clenches, but I don’t know why. I’m not the reason she got ill. I didn’t even know she was sick. And I got her soup.
“Yeah. Right after you showed up, actually. Migraine mostly.” She rolls her eyes when I press my lips into a thin line. “You’re not the reason. I’ve been getting them since…for quite a few months.”
There it is. That shadow in her eyes every time she’s about to reveal her secret. She had it when I mentioned ancient texts. And when I offered to teach her about demons. She needs something, yet she won’t ask for it. I wonder if that’s just the way she is.
“I’m just surprised it’s been a week since I showed up.”
Her brows pull low. “What do you mean?”
I sigh, fighting a smile. “That will cost you. One possibility for a cure for my curse.”
She scowls and her nose scrunches up. “Fine. Have you really been so sick you didn’t realize a whole week had passed?”
“I thought it was less. Time works differently in Hell. Or maybe it’s different here. I don’t entirely know. An hour here could be two minutes or two years down there. Or vice versa. Antidote, please.”
“Did you get bit by a supernatural creature recently…or a bunny?”
I frown as I sift through my memories. “I got bit a lot when I was younger. Omen called me reckless. Recently, I don’t think so.”
She closes her eyes and squeezes my arm. I don’t think she realizes she’s been holding onto me the entire time. She ducks her head and yawns, using the back of my hand as a shield. My lips twitch, and it takes everything in me not to wiggle my fingers.
“Suppose it’s not that, then. What else do I get for tracking this down?”
“You certainly have a one-track mind, huh?”
