“And you have an early class tomorrow.”
“Seven AM. Seniors’ stretch and sway.”
He nods and takes a step toward the door, then stops.
“Unless...”
I know what he’s going to say. I know what he’s offering.
“Stay,” I say before he can finish. “I’m not suggesting... Just stay. Tonight.”
His expression softens. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure I don’t want you to leave. The rest...” I shrug, trying for casual and probably landing somewhere around desperately vulnerable. “We can figure out the rest.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.” He takes my hand, his fingers warm and steady. “I’ll stay.”
Mal emerges from the bathroom in a pair of sweatpants I’d inherited from a long ago college boyfriend and kept because they’d been worn impossibly soft. His chest is bare because I couldn’t find a shirt that would fit him, and I’m trying very hard not to stare at the impressive muscles and the way the lamplight catches the planes of his torso.
My bed is a queen which is just barely large enough for two, especially when one of those two is over six feet of chaos demon. He sits on the edge of the bed, then lies back carefully, as if he’s afraid of taking up too much space. The mattress dips under his weight. We’re both staring at the ceiling.
“This is strange,” I admit.
“Very strange.”
“I’ve never done this before.”
“Shared a bed?”
“Shared a bed without...” I gesture vaguely. “You know.”
“Ah.” He turns his head to look at me. “Is it disappointing?”
Yes and no. What happened on the couch had been amazing and part of me desperately wants to repeat it. But the other part of me...
“It feels...” I search for the right word. “Significant.”
“Significant how?”
“I don’t know. It just feels like we’re crossing a threshold. Not a physical one. An emotional one.” I turn to face him, tucking my hands under my pillow. “Does that make sense?”
“More than you know.” His voice is soft in the darkness. “I’ve been alive for more than three centuries, Isadora. I’ve experienced... a great deal. But I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve shared a bed with someone without an ulterior motive.”
“Ulterior motive?”
“Sex. Manipulation. Gathering intelligence. Waiting for my target to fall asleep so I could search their belongings.” He grimaces. “I wasn’t always a nice person, especially when I was obeying Azrael’s orders.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m lying in your bed because you asked me to stay, and all I want is to be here. No agenda. No plan.” His hand finds mine under the covers. “Just... here.”
Our fingers interlock. His palm is warm against mine.
“Tell me something,” I say. “Something true.”
