Eventually, I wrap myself in the plush white robe, and crack the bathroom door. The suite is dim, lit only by the soft blueglow of the TV. Kayden is the only one there. Shirtless, sprawled across the bed, one arm behind his head, remote in hand, watching some grainy late-night show on low volume.
He turns toward me with a lazy grin. "See? Pants on. Keeping it respectful tonight—no shenanigans… unless youreallybeg for it."
I scoff, tension leaking out of my shoulders. "You wish."
He shifts, making space and patting the middle of the mattress. "Come on, hop in. Pretend you're totally comfortable with this wildly inappropriate arrangement. Otherwise, Asher's going to feel guilty and sleep on the floor, and then you'll feel guilty, and we'll all just spiral into this dramatic guilt loop all night."
I hesitate. Then climb onto the bed, settling toward the edge.
It's surprisingly big. Even with both their broad frames, there should be enough room to pretend this is normal. That I'm not highly aware of every movement. Every inhale.
"Where's Asher?" I ask, glancing toward the door.
Kayden flips the channel lazily. "Went out to grab food and water for you. Since, you know, we didn't exactly do a proper dinner. He's concerned you'll starve or dehydrate or something. Classic big brother vibes. Mother hen in a leather jacket."
I smile despite myself. "Sounds about right." I pause. Then, carefully, ask, "And… how about your dinner?"
His lips twitch. "Oh, I was planning to snack on the downstairs neighbors once you fall asleep."
I blink. "You what—"
He bursts into laughter. "Gods, your face."
I smack his side with a pillow.
"I'm behaving," he says, holding up his hands. "Scout's honor. I can wait until tomorrow. Unless you're volunteering?"
He waggles his brows with zero shame.
"I'm not."
"Had to ask, sunshine," he says, completely unperturbed, settling back like he's got all the time in the world.
"You keep calling me that," I point out. "But the sun is bad for vampires. So what… it's your idea of an ironic pet name?"
His expression shifts—serious, almost vulnerable. "It was, at first. Ironic." His gaze drags slowly over me. "But now… not so much."
The knot in my throat tightens. I swallow hard, words tangled before they can come.
The door clicks open. Asher steps in, one hand clutching a paper bag, the other balancing an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne. "Found this sitting outside," he explains, nodding toward the bottle.
"How thoughtful of them," I mutter, eyeing the bubbles. "Wonder why they didn't knock and hand it to us like normal people."
"Some humans are more sensitive," Asher replies calmly. "They can sense that we are predators. Makes them instinctively keep their distance."
"Or maybe it's just bad service," Kayden says, already moving to relieve Asher of the champagne. He pops the cork without ceremony. "Want some?" he asks me.
I shake my head. Asher declines too.
Kayden shrugs and takes a generous swig straight from the bottle. He immediately winces. "Alright, this tastes like fizzy regret."
"That's how champagne tastes," I say with a grin as I peek into the paper bag.
Inside, there's a decent haul. Sandwiches, a rice roll, a handful of snacks, chocolate, water, and a few bottles of soda. Comfort food with no questions asked.
I glance at Asher with a grateful smile. He shrugs like it's nothing. "Didn't know what you'd like."
"Thank you," I say and grab the rice roll.
