Page 66 of Demon's Bane

It’s heaven. The heat of the water washes away the dust and eases the tight ache in my muscles. I lose track of how long I stay in, but by the time I’m finally done, the water has gone from steaming to tepid.

I grab a towel off the shelf, only to realize my next problem.

What the hell am I supposed to wear?

Poking my head out of the bathroom, I see my clothes are already gone to wherever Rhett’s taken them to be washed. Still wrapped up in my towel, I pad softly through the bedroom and crack open the door into the living space.

My eyes find Rhett immediately.

He’s standing at the wide window at the front of the cabin, hands braced on the windowsill and head bowed forward. His wings tuck tight into his back, and his posture is rigid, still carrying all that aching tension we’ve both been feeling for the last few hours.

“Rhett?”

He turns to face me, burying whatever he’s feeling under a safe, neutral expression. “Yes?”

“I, uh, don’t have any other clothes here,” I say, pointing out the painfully obvious. “Nothing that I can sleep in.”

He nods. “I’ve got something you can wear.”

Back in the bedroom, Rhett crosses to a wardrobe on the far wall and digs around for a moment. When he turns back to me, he’s holding one of his own shirts. Its crisp white fabric feels almost like linen against my palms as he hands it over.

“Halla is going to find you a few things to wear while you’re here, and the clothes you came in will be clean by tomorrow,” he says, and I can’t help but notice he doesn’t let his eyes stray at all to where the towel dips low on my chest. “But until then, you can wear this to sleep in.”

“Thanks,” I murmur, and with another nod, he leaves the room so I can get changed.

Hanging the towel back up in the bathroom, I pull the shirt on over my head. It’s huge on me, reaching all the way to mid-thigh, and has a couple of complicated-looking openings near the shoulders which I assume are meant for wings.

The question of sleepwear dealt with, I step back into the bedroom.

It’s the only part of this place that seems even remotely like someone lives here. The furniture in the living space and kitchen is stiff and mismatched, like it was put there simply because theroom needed something, not because any kind of care went into choosing it.

But in here?

The bed sitting against the back wall is huge, piled high with blankets and furs and pillows. There’s a small hearth on the opposite wall burning with a fire that definitely wasn’t going before we got here, and a handful of lit candles spread out on the small tables beside the bed.

It’s warm, cozy, and before I think better of it, I cross the room and sit down on the edge of the mattress. It’s just as soft as it looks, and I run my hands over the plush furs, savoring the silky smoothness. I nearly groan out loud at the thought of sleeping here, stretching out and sinking into bed with a big, warm demon right beside—

A soft knock at the door snaps me out of that little fantasy.

“Joan?” Rhett asks, voice muffled on the other side of the door. “Is everything alright? Did the shirt fit?”

“Yeah,” I call out. “You can come in.”

The door opens, and Rhett goes absolutely still when he sees where I’m sitting.

I stand immediately, flushing, and smooth the shirt down over my thighs like running my hands over it could somehow magickally make it longer.

“You can sleep in here,” Rhett says, avoiding my eyes and moving to the wardrobe.

“What about you?”

He turns to face me with a bundle of blankets and a spare pillow tucked under his arm, but keeps his eyes averted somewhere just over the top of my head.

“I’ll take the floor in the—”

“No. It’s alright. I can take the floor.” I move toward him, arms outstretched to take the blankets.

Rhett steps back, looking offended I’d even offer. “You’re my guest, Joan. You’ll take the bed.”

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