Page 97 of Death Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

I clutched the blanket to my chest out of reflex, as if it would restore my dignity by covering my collarbone.

“It was just a dream,” I muttered.

Cal’s mouth curved, slow and quiet. “Who were you dreaming about?”

My face went hot so fast I glanced away.

“Why are you here?” I blurted, which was not an answer but was safer than confessing my subconscious fantasies.

He shifted slightly on the mattress, as if he knew I was one sharp breath away from throwing something. “I came to check on you.”

I narrowed my eyes. “That sounds reasonable. Which makes me suspicious.”

His gaze softened a fraction. “You are bonded to the egg. If you falter, it suffers.”

There it was. The steady tug in my ribs answered as if it wanted to remind me that it existed. Even from here, the egg bond pulsed, a quiet line of warmth and strain that I could not set down like a coat.

I swallowed. “You came to check on my health.”

“Yes.”

“And ended up in my bed.”

Cal’s expression went almost sheepish, which looked strange on an ancient gargoyle who could throw corpses into volcano craters. “I could not stay away.”

The words landed in my chest in a way that had nothing to do with magic.

I stared at him, trying to sort through my thoughts. Half of me wanted to demand an explanation, and the other half wanted to ask him to say it again, slower, so I could pretend it meant something different.

“You are supposed to turn to stone at dawn,” I said, because logic was my lifeline. “Why are you not a statue right now?”

He glanced toward my window. “It’s early evening, Salima. You slept the day away.”

I glanced at the window. “The whole day?”

“Yes,” he said. “I flew back and grabbed a vehicle so I could come over.”

“You drove here,” I said.

Cal nodded once. “Mrs. Harriet almost had a heart attack the last time I perched on her roof. I will choose more mundane means of transport here if possible. I do love that woman’s cooking.”

“Who doesn’t?” My heart tightened. “The egg.”

“Stable,” he said, and his voice was steady, but I could hear the effort under it. “Greyson reinforced everything. Still, the calling is pressing. It is not gone.”

I let out a breath I had been holding. “So you came here?

“Yes.”

“To check on me,” I repeated.

Cal’s gaze held mine. “To see you.”

That was worse, somehow. More intimate. More dangerous.

I looked away first, because I was not brave enough for the way he watched me. “You don’t know me that well.”

“I know enough,” he said.