Page 51 of Demon's Beauty

But that doesn’t mean I need to say it out loud and make her uncomfortable.

Soleil goes quiet, but after a few moments the corners of her lips quirk up in a small, wry smile.

“Sunshine, huh?”

“Yeah. Sunshine.”

“Because of my winning personality? My sunny disposition?”

Goddess, I love when she teases me.

“If I said yes?” Unable to help myself, I nudge my tail around her waist, draw her a little closer.

Her fingers ghost over the length of it where it settles at her hip, and I have to fight a shiver of pleasure.

“Then I’d call you a liar.”

“I’d never lie to you, sunshine.”

For a few long moments, we’re both silent. Eyes locked, her fingers still caressing my tail, the birds outside just beginning their morning song.

“You called me that last night, too,” Soleil says quietly. “I don’t know if you remember.”

“I don’t remember a lot of details from last night,” I admit. “But I do remember a few things.”

“Like what?”

“I remember you taking charge. I remember the feel of your magick taking away the pain.”

Her eyes drop to her hands. “That was probably just the painkillers I gave you.”

“Hey.” I wait until she looks at me again. “It wasn’t just that. It was you. I know it was.”

Her face flushes in a way I’m beginning to realize means she likes something she hears. Also perhaps that she doesn’t feel she deserves to hear it, but we’ll work on that.

Goddess, I hope we have the opportunity to work on it.

I hope Soleil gives me time to tell her all the things I admire about her, years for us to discover more about each other, years for her to grow weary of hearing me sing her praises.

She glances toward the door, and I can almost hear the silent calculations in her mind.

It’s morning.

I’m no longer at risk of dying.

She could probably go back to her own tent and get some rest instead of sitting here uncomfortably against the canvas wall.

“Come lie down. You must be exhausted.”

For a moment, my witch seems like she might fight me. She hesitates, with a furrowed brow and a small frown, looking me up and down as if she’s still judging how injured I am.

“You won’t hurt me,” I tell her, and she lets out a soft laugh, some of that worry melting away. “In fact, I’d wager you joining me here would do just the opposite.”

That earns me a smile.

Just the ghost of one, the slightest curling of her lip, but enough for her to capitulate.

Slowly, carefully, she lowers herself onto the bedroll next to me—flat on her back with her arms straight by her sides.