“You mean last night?”
“Yeah. Jesus, we’re only two nights into this trip.”
His mouth twists. “I know.” Then he takes a sip of beer. “I think the closer you are to them, um, turning to demon dust on you, the more damage it does. It’s like hot ash fresh from the fire versus one that’s been floating for a while. I don’t think it’s good to have that substance around, at any rate.”
“Well, it’s a good thing that I brought a lot of clothes,” I joke, though neither of us are finding the humor in it at the moment. “Don’t think I’ll be sleeping in my bed tonight.”
He sighs, straightening up. “I’ll see if I can get us another room.”
I tighten my grip on his arm. “They said they’re sold out tonight.”
“Then I’ll get some bedding to sleep on the floor.”
“Max,” I say testily. “Come on. Get in bed and make room for me. I doubt either of us will be able to sleep, but we can at least try.”
I gesture to the bed again and then I grab my other pair of sleep clothes, which is booty shorts and a white camisole, and I’m really regretting not bringing something that covers more skin. Then again, he just saw me almost naked so fuck it.
I get changed in the bathroom and when I come back out the lights are off, the room faintly illuminated by the streetlights sneaking in past the drawn curtains. I see the hulking shape of him in bed, facing the wall and the sword against it.
I go around to my side and get in under the covers, turning on my side, my back to him. I can’t help but stare at my bed, at the ash and turned over covers and think about how close I just came to dying.
It makes me feel sick and shaky, like I’m starting to come undone all over again.
“Max,” I whisper into the dark of the room.
“Yes?” he says softly, voice muffled behind me.
“Can you do me a favor?”
“What?”
“Can you spoon me?”
A pause. “What?”
“You know. Spoon me. Like you’re the big spoon and I’m the little spoon.”
I feel him turn over, the bed moving from his weight. “I know how it works, Ada. I’m just…finding this a rather interesting request.”
I let out a shaky breath. “I know. I’m just a little scared at the moment and—”
“Say no more,” he says, and then he moves across the bed until his arms wrap around me, pulling me to him until my back is against his chest, his chin resting on top of my head. “How is this?”
Oh god.
“Good,” I manage to say, trying to control my breath.
Because it is.
Too good.
I can’t remember the last time I was held.
Honestly, it makes me crumble a little, like he’s the only thing holding me together. I can feel his heart beating against my back, feel the strength in his arms as if he’s promising that nothing will ever happen to me. And I know he’s beating himself up because he fell asleep tonight, but the fact is he was there when it counted.
He saved me.
I close my eyes and sink into his embrace, enjoying it because I don’t know how long I’ll have it. Such a simple thing, human touch, and yet I’m now realizing how starved for it I’ve been.
“You okay?” he whispers, his lips moving against my head.
I nod lightly. “Yeah. This is nice.”
He doesn’t say anything to that. I have to wonder how he’s taking it. Is it a chore to him, something he’s putting up with? Is he enjoying the contact? Is he holding himself back? Something tells me if I move my ass backward into him I can figure that out for myself really fast.
But I’m not bold enough for that.
“Max?”
“Yes?”
“How many women have you spooned before?”
He bursts out laughing, lowering his face until it’s in my hair, the whole bed shaking from his laughter. “I’ve spooned quite a few,” he says when he catches his breath. “Why?”
“No reason. You’re just really good at it.”
“Glad to be good at something.”
Liar. The man is good at everything.
Silence fills the room for a bit until all I hear is his deep and steady breath into my hair. Every time he breathes out, I get a little shiver down my spine. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to sleep.
And so my mind starts to wander, thinking too much about everything.
“Max…do you like me?” I don’t know why I have no filter tonight but I guess that’s what happens when you almost die.
He stirs and lifts his head out of my hair.
“What?” he says sleepily. “Do I like you? Darlin’, what are you talking about?”
I roll over enough so that my head is nestled back in the pillow and I’m staring at his face, his eyes on mine, sleepy and intense all at once.