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Afterward, I gather her against my chest and roll onto my back. The floor is hard. The runner is threadbare. Neither of us cares in the slightest.

For a long while, neither of us speaks. Her cheek rests over my heart. Her fingers trace idle patterns across my skin.

“Wow,” she whispers.

I press a kiss to the top of her head.

“Indeed.”

She props her chin on my chest. “Still human.”

I lift my hand and study it. Flesh. Not a speck of gray. “So it would seem.”

“Told you I wasn’t wrong.”

“You did.”

She smiles.

Then glances down.

“You’re still naked.”

I sigh.

“I believe that is now a shared condition.”

“It’s not a complaint.” She wriggles, just slightly. Entirely on purpose.

My heart gives an entirely unnecessary thump. Other parts of me, astonishingly, begin to take an interest once more.

She looks up at me.

And grins.

“So.”

“So?”

“I think we just discovered something very interesting.”

“That would appear to be the case.”

“You turned human without me touching you.”

“Yes.”

“Because you were worried about me.”

I consider that.

“Terrified would be a more accurate description.”

Her expression softens. Then she smiles again. Slowly. Mischievously.

Oh, dear. I know that smile. That smile has preceded several unfortunate incidents involving paint, power tools, and my dignity.

“Gabriel?”