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That night, Kain announces he wants to sleep in the bed.

He’s been staying on the couch so it’s easier for me to check on him, but so close to the end of the seventy-two hours, he turns stubborn.

I get him settled and dodge his reaching hand to go to my own room.

The door clicks shut behind me, and the sudden silence closes around me, thicker than it should be. I take off my glasses and set them on the nightstand, blurring out the undecorated walls. The room feels strange, unfamiliar. When was the last time I actually slept in here?

I lie on top of the covers, still dressed, arms at my sides, and stare up at the shadowed ceiling.

The house settles into its nighttime sounds. The heating vent clicks on, then off. The refrigerator hums from the kitchen.

Outside, a crew member will be parked at the curb, keeping a protective detail on the house.

A floorboard creaks, and my ears prick as I listen. But the creak doesn’t come again.

I close my eyes. Open them. Close them again and will myself to sleep.

The mattress dips as Kain snuggles in, his comforting pheromones curling around me.

For a moment, my body melts into his warmth, before I remember why I’m in my own room, and I sit bolt upright.

He finds my wrist in the dark, his grip firm but not tight. “Where are you going?”

“You’re not supposed to overstimulate yourself.” My voice is steady despite my racing pulse. “You need to rest.”

“Come on, Bunny, we always sleep together.” In the dark, I can’t see his face, but tension cuts through every syllable. “I’ve followed your rules for the last two nights, but I can’t sleep in the bed without you.”

“Then go back to the couch.”

His thumb circles my pulse, and my heartbeat stutters beneath his touch. “Bunny.”

I lift my arm away from his touch until the connection breaks.

“I’ll bring your pain med.” I stand, the floor cold under my socks. “Then you should try to sleep more.”

I don’t wait for his answer as I cross the room, open the door, and step into the hallway. The nightlight in the bathroom casts a soft blue glow, illuminating the way.

In the kitchen, I fill a glass with water from the filtered tap. In the streaming office, I open the prescription bottle and shake one pill into my palm.

It’s three minutes until his next dose. Close enough that by the time I return to the bedroom, the alarm will be going off.

I carry both back to my room.

Kain sits on the edge of my bed, shoulders curved, one hand pressed to his ribs. In the dim light from the hallway, the bruising along his side is a dark shadow.

I stop in front of him. “Here.”

He straightens with a wince, considers the pill in my outstretched palm, then tilts his head back and opens his mouth.

As I place the pill on his tongue, my breath catches. His lips close around my fingers, warm and wet, and my dick jumps in my pants as blood rushes south.

I pull my finger free and hold the glass to his lips. He takes a sip without breaking eye contact, and his throat works as he swallows.

He leans back. “Thank you.”

I try to answer, but my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.

I pivot and walk across the hall to Kain’s room.