Page 7 of How Not to Date a Demon

He curled an arm around her back, and she sighed in relief. She felt safe like this, and she blinked sleepily, her thoughts dispersing as the veil of sleep grew heavier. She couldn’t even remember why she’d woken up in the first place.

And why was she worried about being safe?

A click of nails across the hardwood floor startled her awake again, and she remembered.

The puppies were guarding the door.

It would have been cute if their fucking eyes weren’t so bright red they were casting shadows along the floor.

“S’not natural,” she mumbled incoherently as sleep pulled her back under.

Galen’s arms tightened around her, and she couldn’t fight it anymore.

Waking up the next morning was much easier with the sun streaming in through their curtains. An uneasy knot was still bunched in her chest, and she sat up to an empty bed and an empty room.

The door was closed, and there was no sign of the three puppies.

Maybe that was just a dream last night. Her anxiety over the three puppies manifesting while she was asleep.

Yeah, that was it.

“Makes more sense than glowing eyes, doesn’t it?” she muttered to herself.

She stretched and pulled herself from the bed, yawning as she opened the door and found an empty apartment.

Frowning, she retreated to her bedside table and checked her phone, but there was no message from Galen. Wasn’t he working from home now? Where was he?

With a sigh, she dropped her phone to the bed and made her way to the bathroom. She stripped and held her sleep clothes over the hamper. A flash of one of Galen’s shirts caught her eye, and she smiled as she pulled it out. He was already doing better.

She was about to drop it back in when she noticed a tear in the fabric.

“Oh no,” she said, holding out the last syllable in disappointment as she dropped her clothes and held up his shirt. He really liked this shirt.

From the front, it didn’t seem any different, but when she turned it around, she frowned.

“What the hell?” she asked aloud.

Two matching rips ran in the fabric parallel to each other, right between the shoulder blades. How the hell had he managed that?

Shaking her head and reminding herself to ask him for the story later, she finished readying for the day and took it with her to toss in the trash.

It wasn’t until she entered the kitchen that she found a sticky note scrawled with Galen’s sloppy script.

“Gone for a bit, took the pups so they didn’t wake you up. Be back soon,” she read aloud.

Well, that was sweet.

And even the dishes from their failed dinner were already taken from the dishwasher and put away.

On top of that, when she opened the fridge, a large mug of coffee with her name on it—literally, he'd written it on a heart shaped sticky note—sat in the middle like an offering.

Galen was already doing better. And talking to him had been so easy. He hadn’t offered excuses or tried to argue with her. He’d listened and thought about what she said and promised to improve.

And so far, he was doing a good fucking job.

Now the question was, would it last?

Galen