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There’s a warmth of satisfaction that lingers between us. For the first time in a long time, it all feels like enough. The cloud that has been hanging over my head, waiting for the next tragedy, is out of sight.
Finally, I’ve been dealt a winning hand, and I just want to make the most of it. I don’t know how long it will last. But tonight, I’m just enjoying the moment and not asking.
He takes up most of the bed, not leaving me much room to move. The bed felt so large before when it was just me. But with him in it, I can tell that it must be sized for one demon. It’s not designed for co-sleeping.
It forces me to lay pressed up against his side, perched somewhat precariously so that I don’t fall off the bed. I’m on my side, my leg draped over his. My head is on his shoulder, with his arm laying underneath me.
It’s comfortable enough if I don’t make any sudden moves. There’s no space between where he ends and I begin, and I’m close enough that I can feel every breath he takes. But I don’t mind the closeness. I’m too out of my mind with the satisfaction to do anything but bask in his presence.
At first, we’re both mute, letting our heart rates slow. My breathing begins to return to normal. My brain, which was feeling almost drunk from the pleasure that it had absorbed for hours, starts to clear.
I tilt my face up, giving him an appreciative little kiss on the neck. It’s my way of showing him thanks. Just a few days ago, I faced what seemed to be a certain, and painful death. And now, I’m being taken care of so pleasurably, in every aspect, that it seems positively surreal.
I cuddle against him but watch his face.
He’s holding me, after all, so it seems safe to assume he’s not opposed to affection. But he’s still a demon, and I don’t want to cause him any displeasure. Staying here has been going so well that I want to take extra care to not rock the boat.
He doesn’t object to my touch, and his body remains relaxed. There’s a scowl marring his sharp, handsome features that I’m not sure how to interpret, and it seems to be at odds with his bright eyes.
Finally, he speaks. “Why aren’t you fighting me?”
I blink a few times, and now I’m the one who is surprised. I think over his question carefully, but I’m not sure how to respond.
Slowly, truthfully, I admit, “I don’t see the point.” His brow rumples in confusion, and it’s clear that he still doesn’t understand. “You claimed me for your own. What would I gain by fighting you?”
“But you don’t have to give in this easily. You didn’t resist at all.”
I bite my lip, thinking about it. Even when he puts it in that light, the idea makes no real sense to me. I like staying here with him, and I hope that he feels the same.
“I don’t want to go anywhere else,” I confess. “So, I might as well enjoy being here with you. What else would I do?”
And it’s true. I have no home of my own, no security without him, no way to provide for myself. I’m depending on him for everything that I need. Repaying his physical needs seems like the least I can do if that’s what he desires.
I frown a little, reflecting on the fact that this is the best setting that I’ve found myself in. I’m willing to keep him happy to stay here. If I do not please him, if I’m more trouble than I’m worth, he might put me back in the arena where he got me from.
The thought is too unpleasant to voice out loud, especially in the positive energy of the current room. I don’t want to mar the moment with such a chilling observation, so I keep it to myself.
“Well, I’m very much in favor of enjoying you,” he says in a husky tone. “I’ve enjoyed you several times tonight, already.”
I’m soon distracted by him when he kisses my neck. He isn’t as reckless or insistent as he was when he burst into my room. Instead, his caresses are soft and gentle.
It takes my mind off my dark thoughts, and I relish the sensations that it brings. He strokes his hand over me, and it’s comforting in a way that I didn’t expect. I’m tired from our energetic lovemaking, but the way that his touch soothes me makes me feel like I could pass out again.
He stops for a moment, sitting up suddenly. I look up to see where he has gone, missing the closeness. But he fetches the blankets, bunched at the bottom of the bed. He straightens them out. Then he lays back down, pulling them over us both. With one hand on my back, he traces his claws lightly in a circular pattern.
My mind is clear and uncluttered, tuned in only to the pleasantness of his touch. I close my eyes and just let it wash over me. It’s hard to believe that a demon can be this gentle, this soft. But he’s surprised me from the very beginning.
Maybe he always will.
He does have a rough side, I remember. I smile to myself, recalling the earlier way he burst into my room. It was another type of surprise: that time, he wasn’t gentle. Instead, the surprise was how he arrived unannounced and assaulted my senses with raw, primal, urgent, animalistic sex.
I enjoyed both sides of him: the passionate, controlling demon who wanted to claim me as his own, and the tender lover who wanted to take care of me. But then, unbidden, a thought strikes me. What had brought on that aggression? There must have been a trigger, something that induced the fury that I saw before.
It was a side of him that I had never seen. Where had he come home from, and what had unleashed it? I knew nothing about him, really.
“What happened today?” I ask him softly.
His face darkens, but it disappears before I can read into it. “What do you mean?” he asks, and I can sense the tension behind his words.
