“Are you sure it’s the love spell?”
“What else could it be?”
He’s all smirk when he chuckles, points at me, and says, “Definitely cute.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Never mind. If this is bothering you, Pie, I will stop. How’s that?”
“Well.” I look down at my hands. It does feel pretty good. But I need to be practical about this. “I just don’t want us to get caught up in a love spell.”
“Oh.” He nods. Pretends to look serious. “Well, then we should wait.”
“Wait?” For some reason, this conversation suddenly has sexual undertones and I’m not sure how that happened. “I’m literally just talking about a hand massage.”
“A handjob?” He laughs out loud.
“No.” And I laugh too. “Not a handjob. My God. See? This is what I mean. This is getting all mixed up when it shouldn’t.”
“Shouldn’t it?”
I sigh. “You know what I’m talking about. You’re just trying to be difficult.”
“Fine.” He stands up and stretches his back. His arms go up towards the cave ceiling and he closes his eyes as he yawns. His fangs are long and sharp and he looks every bit like a beast in this moment. A lazy, content, I-am-the-king-of-this-jungle beast.
And I’m suddenly on fire. So I get up too, then start fanning myself, like I was in the restaurant. “Yep. This is definitely the love spell working right now.”
Pell just grins at me. “If you say so, Pie. I’m going to bed, I guess. Want me to walk you home so the monsters don’t get you?”
“No. I think I’ll sleep on the apothecary couch.”
He frowns. “Why?”
“The cottage is too far away. I don’t like being so far away.”
He looks around. Like he’s thinking. When he looks back at me, I know what he’s gonna say. “Want me to stay with you?”
“I don’t want to impose.”
We both laugh out loud. Then he grabs my hand and starts pulling me out of the cave. “We’ll figure something out tomorrow. But you’re not sleeping in the apothecary. That was Grant’s realm. It’s far safer for you in that distant cottage than it is in there.”
“Fuck. That’s true.”
“I’ll stay with you tonight.”
I expect him to let go of my hand when we get to the stairs, but he doesn’t. He keeps it. Holds it firmly all the way down the path to the cottage. And everything about this walk home is awkward. But when we get inside and I look upstairs, and he looks upstairs, it’s more than awkward. It’s embarrassing.
We both say, “I’ll take the couch,” at the same time.
Then, again, together, we say, “No, you take the bed.”
Then we both laugh.
“Pell.” I place a hand on his chest, acutely aware that he’s still got a hold of my other one. “You’re like seven feet tall. You cannot sleep on that couch. Take the bedroom.”
But he’s already shaking his head. “I’m not letting you sleep down here alone. It kinda defeats the purpose of staying over to make you feel safe.”
And yep. There’s only one way this goes after that.
“Well. That bed should be big enough for both of us.”
And there it is.
It’s out there.
He nods and starts up the stairs. And because we are attached at the hand, I go with him.
I am going to bed with the monster of Saint Mark’s.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - PELL
One thing is abundantly clear when we reach the top of the stairs and stand in front of her bed. It’s definitely not big enough for the two of us. It’s barely big enough for me.
“I’ll sleep on the couch,” I say.
“No. Don’t be dumb. It’s my fault you’re staying over in the first place.”
I don’t mean to sneer down at her, but I do. “I’m not kicking you out of your own bed.”
She shrugs. “Then I guess we’re sleeping together.” She points at me. “You know the good part about walking around naked all the time?”
I grin.
“You don’t have to change clothes at bedtime. But I do. BRB.”
She grabs some clothes from her closet and disappears into the bathroom while I circle the bed trying to imagine how this will go. It’s a nice bed, for sure. A cool canopy. Very elegant and old-fashioned. It’s a mess of covers, so she doesn’t make her bed up when she wakes, which I sorta love. There’s nothing worse than an uptight bedmaker. We will fit. Obviously. But there will be no way to avoid contact with each other.
I’m still standing there when she comes out of the bathroom wearing a pair of tight black shorts and an equally tight black top. And her breasts are… yeah.
“What are you doing?” Her voice snaps me out of the image I’m forming of her breasts.
“I wasn’t looking.” It comes out defensive and this makes her laugh.
“Oh, my God. Is the monster blushing? Is he shy? Is he”—she pauses to smile—“a gentleman?”