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Bruiser raised an eyebrow, but he grabbed a clean fork and tasted each slice of cake. “Mmm. They’re good.”

“You think so?”

“I have taste buds, you know,” Bruiser said.

“Color me surprised,” said Uriel’s mouth. “You ate that nasty bitter melon stew the time Cadmus held a party at his place.”

And now both of Bruiser’s eyebrows were up. “You remember what I ate?”

Uriel scowled. “Hard not to. You liked it so much that everyone was betting on whether you would bring the entire pot home.”

The alpha looked amused. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“I was holding a grudge,” Uriel muttered. “Who in Hell likes a bitter stew?”

“Me, I guess.”

“Your taste buds are fucked.”

Bruiser looked incredulous. He gave Cassie a pointed look. “You say that in front of her?”

Cassie stuffed her hand into her mouth and kicked her feet.

Uriel shrugged. “She doesn’t understand it right now, anyway.”

Bruiser’s heavy attention made him squirm. Uriel avoided the alpha’s gaze and returned Cassie to her playpen, putting the leftovers into the fridge.

“Let me deal with that,” Bruiser said. “You probably have to take care of Cassie.”

“Yeah, I’ll—give her a bath.” Uriel’s heart kicked. Bruiser glanced at him curiously but didn’t say anything, so Uriel hurriedly gathered their bathing supplies. Then he brought her to the bathroom and locked the door, breathing a sigh of relief.

When they were done, both of them washed and clean, Uriel carried her out of the bathroom. Bruiser was already bundled up under a blanket on the couch.

Wait. Was he... using Uriel’s blanket?

Uriel stopped and stared. “You’re not... using the blanket from the bed?”

Bruiser’s face turned faintly pink. “I figured the blanket on the bed is more comfortable; you might like it better. But I can return this if you want it back.”

“Uh... You can borrow it, I suppose,” Uriel said. What the Hell was going on? He dragged Cassie’s playpen into the bedroom, then got ready for bed.

“Good night,” he said awkwardly when he was under the covers; Bruiser could hear him from the living room.

“Night,” the alpha called back.

Uriel got into bed and settled in to sleep.

The dreams crept up on him that night. They were the terrible ones. In those dreams, Uriel was strapped to a cold metal table, naked and helpless as alphas in lab coats took scalpels to his skin. They injected him with unknown liquids and made him swallow pills, and no matter how much he struggled or vomited, they always came back.

“No, no, no,” he whimpered, thrashing. He was out, he had escaped. Why was he back?

“Hey!” someone barked.

Uriel jerked awake, panting hard. “Wh-what?”

The bedroom light was on. He was tangled up in the sheets, sweaty and shaky. Bruiser was standing against the wall, concern on his face.

“You were having a bad dream,” the alpha said. “I wasn’t going to shake you awake in case you reacted badly.”