Page 12 of Warlocks Don't Win
I bristled at the thought of him playing out the one bed trope with his gorgeous co-star. “That’s cool. So glad I’m useful to you in your Winston the Warlock fantasy.”
His smile grew. “I’m not party to any Winston the Warlock fantasies. That’s my reality. The tv show is my propaganda machine, makes good money, and keeps several of my interests afloat. No, Clary Sage, you’re my fantasy.”
I threw a chicken bone at him. He caught it in his teeth, which was absolutely barbaric, and nothing like what the old Win would have done. I stared at him, gaping.
He took the bone in his fingers and finished eating it, like a skunk in a garbage can, not too proud to scrounge discarded remains.
“You’re mad,” I announced.
He dropped the clean bone in the box and shrugged. “Probably.”
“Madness isn’t a good thing when you’ve got that kind of power.” I gestured at the bare forearms under the large pink t-shirt. The orange cartoon character had its tongue sticking out at me.
“I’m mad about you. You’re tired. Eat the potatoes and then sleep. I’ll take the floor. My big anti-stench magic wiped me out.”
He grabbed a pillow and dropped it on the thin industrial carpet and stood up, looking around for a blanket.
I grabbed his wrist. Such strong wrists. “No. I’m sleeping on the floor.”
His eyes widened then narrowed. “Hardly. You’re driving, so you need the better sleep.”
“Seriously, if I sleep on the bed, I’ll probably roll off it and land on you.”
“Seriously, the odds of that happening are so remotely small, why would you even try to use that as an excuse? You’re taking the bed. My grandmother would kill me with her bare hands if she heard that I made a woman sleep on the floor to protect my virtue.”
I rolled my eyes at the idea of his supposed virtue. “Seriously, Winston, I get nightmares and thrash around a lot. I always have, for as long as I can remember. That’s why I was so concerned about us having separate bedrooms after we were married.”
Gulp.
I’d just said the ‘M’ word.
He froze as well, but only for a second before he shook off my hand. “I’ll take my chances.” He settled down on the floor, no blanket, just him, a pillow, and my ridiculous comfort clothes.
I glared at him and then ate the mashed potatoes. Fine. If he wanted to sleep on the floor, then I wouldn’t feel bad if I killed him in my sleep.
Sleep came fast. He was right; I was exhausted, and I needed my strength to finish the drive tomorrow and deal with sleeping in my mother’s house. My house. Because she was dead and buried. I didn’t see where they’d buried her. Probably in the backyard cemetery.
I fell asleep thinking about the cemetery, the mausoleum where my father’s bones were kept…
And woke up with a tail draped over my face, wrapped in the strong arms of the warlock on the floor. I felt good, connected both to my skunk familiar and the warlock who had let me sleep on top of him for who knew how long. The sun was high enough to show midmorning, but I tended to get nightmares from midnight to three a.m.
I slowly raised my head so the tail slid off me until I was looking down into the caramel eyes of Winston my betrayer. It took me a full minute for the feelings to come online.
I shoved off him, sending Tolly rolling until I was on the bed in the swathe of destroyed bedding, kicking away from him.
He slowly sat up, capturing Tolly and snuggling her against his soft t-shirt while he looked at me with an intentionally blankface. His face bore marks of my nightmares, scratches that I didn’t remember giving him.
“Morning. Have you considered putting the mattress on the floor?” he asked in a low, manly voice.
I cleared my throat. “My apartment over the shop has a room that is all mattresses.”
“So it is literally a bed room. Makes sense. Your hair suits you better like that.”
I froze while my confused brain tried to compute. Ah. My hair wasn’t yellow and pink today. Better wasn’t a huge leap from that awfulness. I grabbed a hank of hair and studied the purple and green. Purple for Winston, and green for me. How terrifying.
I dropped my hair and nodded. “Yeah. It’s okay. I’ll go get my green and purple suitcase while you do the bathroom stuff.” I high-tailed it out of there, nodding at Jerry on my way.
“Check out in half an hour. You missed the continental breakfast,” he called after me.
