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He left his shoes by the front door and went to the kitchen. The fridge seemed to be working. When he ran the faucet, it gave him hot water. The windows seemed sturdy, and the living room couch was wide and large. There was even a fireplace. The bathroom had a soaking tub, with enough space that he wouldn’t feel squashed.

Something felt wrong, though. Bruiser checked the bedrooms.

He found only one.

That couldn’t be right.

When he pulled up the rental listing, it said—

Damn it, it did say One bedroom. Fuck.

It would have a couple of beds, right? Surely, with his luck... He opened the bedroom door and peered inside.

There was only one bed.

4

A STEAMY FIGHT

Uriel looked up when Bruiser began to curse. “What’s going on?”

The alpha clenched his teeth, looking so annoyed that Uriel was tempted to fuck with him, just to push Bruiser over the edge.

For one second, Uriel let himself imagine the possibilities.

Bruiser hesitated. It was an odd look on him, more so when he glanced at the open door with something like betrayal. Only then did Uriel think to examine the cabin’s rooms more closely: Kitchen, check. Bathroom, check. Bedroom...

There was only one.

Heeding the foreboding feeling in his gut, Uriel joined the alpha at the bedroom door.

The bedroom had been decorated tastefully—elegant lamps on simple nightstands, blackout curtains, two puffy armchairs with a small table between them. And in the middle of the room, a king-sized bed with soft-looking white sheets. If this room belonged to Uriel, he would’ve leaped immediately onto the bed.

Of course, nothing in his life was ever easy.

He swallowed his envy and salvaged the situation the best way he knew how.

He angled a smirk at Bruiser. “If you wanted me in your bed, there are easier ways to ask.”

Bruiser spluttered, growing red in the face. “I didn’t—This was—”

“Don’t worry, I’m not that desperate,” Uriel said lightly. “I’ll take the couch.”

Those sea-blue eyes flashed red. Uriel didn’t wait for Bruiser to come up with a retort; he went to his broomstick and opened its travel case, pulling out Cassie’s playpen so he could get her set up in the living room.

As he did that, the day’s work sank into his bones. Four hours of flying, two hours of spell work, packing and unpacking twice. If he didn’t have Cassie to care for, he would’ve face planted onto the couch and fallen asleep. Uriel sighed, shaking the playpen tiredly to snap it open.

“Hey,” Bruiser said, sounding oddly hesitant.

Uriel looked up warily. “What?”

“You should take the bed,” Bruiser said. “I’ll take the couch.”

Uriel squinted. “Did you hit your head?”

“No.” Bruiser scowled. “Forget it. I was just trying to be—” He cut himself off and turned away, stomping into the bathroom.

Was he... trying to be nice?