The sweet scent of a white chocolate mocha woke me from a heavy sleep the following morning. For a few moments, as I stirred to consciousness, it was like waking up any other day. Then, as I opened my eyes and shifted position, my body’s nerves came to life, reminding me what had happened yesterday. It wasn’t the horrible torturous pain I’d experienced before, but I had enough aches and soreness to dissuade me from too much movement. Still, I managed to more or less sit up when Dante entered my bedroom.

He held the mocha in one hand and what looked like a bakery bag tucked under his arm. In the other hand, he carried an enormous vase of blue and white hydrangeas, interspersed with orchids. I never would have pictured those particular flowers going together, but the arrangement worked.

“Did you rob a florist?” I asked.

Dante gave me a withering look as he handed me the mocha. “Why are you assuming the worst again?”

“Because orchids aren’t cheap,” I said.

“They were out of crab grass, so I had to settle.” He gently placed the vase on my dresser and then freed the bakery bag. “And I beat up some kids for these.”

After a long, delicious sip, I set the mocha on my bedside table and took the bag from him. Inside were chocolate croissants—my favorite kind of breakfast pastry.

“All this because I got beat up?” I asked.

He sat on the side of the bed. “I’m worried about you.”

“I should get in fights with demons more often,” I teased, my last few words getting muffled as I bit into a croissant. Tiny flakes and crumbs fell onto my sheets, but I didn’t care.

“Not funny, succubus,” he said. And to my surprise, I could see that he meant it. None of his usual sardonic humor showed on his face. There was no bitter twist to his lips. “That’s never happening again. And I’m going to make sure you get better, immortal healing or not.”

“Never took you for a nursemaid.”

“Be quiet,” he snapped. “And keep eating. Your body needs calories to heal.”

Happy to oblige, I started to take another bite and then froze. “Do you think I might start putting on weight?” Calories were nothing I’d ever had to count before. I’d feared neither weight gain nor health effects from the things I ate.

“I think that’s the least of your worries.”

I supposed he was right. I kept eating—but with a little less enthusiasm. He still looked so serious and worried that I couldn’t shake my warm and fuzzy feelings. “Thank you for all of this. It’s really great.”

He smiled at me, and his gray eyes were lovely in the morning light. “Not many people in this world I feel deserve my help. You’re in an exclusive club.”