Page 23 of Demons in My Bed
I’d left that night with Hunter, and the two of us absolutely crushed the assignment. I smiled at the thought of my big, best friend, with his curly hair and emerald green eyes. At six-five, I’d always thought he was the biggest man I’d ever seen, but Misha blew that out of the water.
Hunter had also been taken in by Montague Industries when his mothers and brother were killed in a fiery explosion during a family vacation. A leaky gas valve or something had sparked, causing their entire wooden cabin to go up in flames, killing his family. He’d been just ten years old when he was taken in, but he was one of the strongest mages I knew.
Opening my eyes, I jolted upright, sending the bathwater sloshing over the edge. Misha was standing right in front of me with a towel around his hips and an inquisitive look on his face.
“How does a person your size move so silently? It makes no sense,” I muttered, leaning back and attempting to calm my heart.
“You’re smiling. Why?”
I grabbed the washcloth and squirted some bodywash on it, rubbing it together as I pondered how I wanted to answer his question. “I was thinking about my best friend.”
Without responding, he turned and walked to the large double sink and grabbed his toothbrush. I started soaping up my shoulders while observing him.
“We grew up together,” I told him, wanting to keep the conversation flowing for some reason. He’d already spoken more than I thought I’d ever get, so I wanted to try and keep that going. His eyes flicked to mine in the mirror as he started brushing his teeth. “I miss him.”
Misha coughed and spit out a mouthful of toothpaste in the sink, then whirled around. “Him?”
Oh, he doesn’t like that.
“Yes, him. He’s a man.”
“No.”
I lifted my brows. “No? What do you mean, no?”
He rinsed his mouth quickly, then stomped over to the tub. “Five minutes.”
My mouth gaped. “Excuseme?”
Misha turned and left me staring as he walked out of the bathroom. The sounds of dresser drawers slamming reached me, and I rolled my eyes. What a weirdo.
Still, I needed to wash my hair, so I set about doing that before Mr. Moody could return and make me get out of the tub with a head full of suds. Rinsing my hair, I sent out some love to Snake via magic, just to let him know I missed him too. I’d reveal him when the time was right. Since they didn’t know what my affinity was yet, I might as well keep it a secret for as long as possible.
Feelings of adoration and relief were returned to me from my little buddy, and I relaxed a bit, knowing that he was okay. Snake could take care of himself, but I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t also kind of fucked up. He tended to scare the hell out of those who saw him and really prided himself on making people piss their pants.
"Out.”
Sighing, I hit the drain on the tub and stood, letting the bubbles run down my skin. Misha grabbed the towel he’d already gotten out and tossed it at me before disappearing again. Gritting my teeth, I stepped out onto the plush bath mat and dried myself. My hair was a long, wet, tangled mess so I set out to find a brush, and maybe a robe. I hit the jackpot in the cupboard where Misha had gotten the towels from earlier.
A big, fluffy, black robe was folded and sitting on a shelf, prime for the taking. Helping myself, I slipped into it and huffed a laugh at how fucking long it was. It was like the bridal dress version of a robe, complete with a train. I wasn’t surprised to find a little box full of hair care items—Misha’s hair was pretty long for a dude. I sprayed some leave-in conditioning spray on my head and got to work brushing out the mess. The smell was intoxicating, like hints of tobacco flower with a sharp undertone of steel.
Once that was done, I figured it was time to bite the weenie. I silently padded across the floor, my robe trailing behind me. All was quiet in the bedroom, so I peeked around the corner and nearly ran for the tray of food that was sitting on the coffee table next to a sleek, gray couch. Steak, potatoes, steamed broccoli… Oh gods. My stomach growled like a lion chasing a gazelle.
The bedroom door opened, and Misha appeared, carrying a second tray. He froze, taking in my outfit, and his nostrils flared. Was he sniffing the food? Or me? I studied him right back—the loose, black tank top and dark gray joggers were a dangerous combination.
“I didn’t have any clothes so…” I held my arms out, letting the sleeves fall over my hands. He didn’t look impressed.
“Eat.” Misha sat the second tray down and plopped himself on the couch, not wasting any time in digging right into his steak. I was fucking starving; I didn’t need to be told twice. I sat down beside him, and the two of us stuffed our faces in silence.
The plates were so loaded with food that I only got about halfway, but holy hell, I was stuffed. Groaning, I flopped back on the couch, holding my belly. “Gods, that was good.”
Misha was still going strong, and I nearly choked when I looked over and realized that he was on the last bite. His plate was wiped clean. Turning to me, he gave me a glance and then stole a look down at my plate. Pointing at my steak with his fork, he lifted a brow in a silent question.
“Go ahead.” I was both impressed and horrified as I watched him methodically slice through the meat with a knife clearly better suited for hunting the actual dinner itself. This guy was fascinating to me, and I wanted to see if I could break through that hard outer shell. “I think I’m pregnant with a steak baby.”
Misha paused, a big hunk of meat an inch from his mouth, and he slowly turned to stare at me like I had five heads. His eyes dropped to my stomach, then back up to meet mine. “Impossible,” he grunted, dismissing me once more in favor of food.
I barked a laugh. “I was joking. Of course it’s impossible.” He didn’t respond. Shocking. He was so stoic and serious, which just made questions pop up in my head like confetti. For starters, why didn’t he like to talk? What was with the knife obsession? Exactly how tall was he? I knew he’d gotten even bigger in his demon form, which honestly should’ve been illegal.
