SJ’s jaw twitched, but again, he did my bidding, returning with me to the bedroom, standing just inside the door while I wrung the worst of the water from my hair, pulled back the covers and climbed under the quilt with a yawn.

He watched me warily. I rubbed my sore belly.

“You … you know what would go a long way towards that recompense?” I asked before I lost my nerve. But I couldn’t have him leave. I didn’t want to be alone in the dark. I didn’t want to have to call Ezra and ruin his night to make him come home to babysit me.

No … I wanted SJ to be the one here with me.

“I do not know,” SJ replied, a hint of humour in his tone. “How can I be of service?”

“You could … stay. And be my nightlight. And …” I patted the empty side of the bed. “… also my hot water bottle? You know, since I wouldn’t have these tummy pains if it wasn’t for you.”

That was underhanded, and I felt a pang of guilt at the way his face crumpled just slightly. But he did take a tentative step towards the bed.

“You wish me to lie with you? Like this? In this form?”

I swallowed back what I really wanted to say—which was something along the lines of, ‘It’s my every naughty fantasy coming to life, getting into bed with a big, horned beast’—and instead, I said, “Night light, remember? Pretty sure you can’t glow like that in your human form.”

He stepped closer again, and again. He sat on the edge, facing away from me. His back was so broad, the muscles defined. He muttered something that I swear sounded like, “The way I’m feeling right now, Mouse, I think I’d light up the night in any form.”

My breath caught in my throat, and my heart kicked into overdrive. And not for fearful reasons.

This was anticipation I was feeling.

I was in so much trouble.

For such a big, beastly devil, he was surprisingly graceful as he slid into the bed beside me. But he did take up a good three-quarters of my queen-size, and he rotated his feet, untucking the sheets at the end, his feet sticking out.

“Where is your pain?” he asked gruffly, tugging the covers over us.

“My … my abdomen, mostly,” I mumbled, then squeaked when he wrapped an arm around me and tugged me to him, spooning me. His huge, hot palm splayed across my lower belly.

“Better?” he murmured.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak. I was being cuddled by a big red devil, who only wanted to take away my pain and alleviate my fear.

I should be furious about what he did to me tonight. But everything he’d done since I started getting sick made it harder and harder for me to feel angry with him.