Mate (Bride, #2)

by Ali Hazelwood

“I should go to sleep,” I say. “Okay. Which room?” “Um, mine?” “Okay. We’ll sleep there.” “We?” “We.” My eyebrow lifts. “Uh-oh. Celibacy Threat Alert.” His look withers me, and every garden on the continent. “I’m going to stay in human form and monitor your temperature. We’ll catch your fevers early, and they won’t get as bad as they did last night.” I open my mouth to say, I don’t want to put you out. I can take care of myself. It’s fine. But maybe it’s not. Maybe I can take care of myself, but I don’t mind some help. Maybe he wants to be put out. Maybe this is equally for him and for me. So what I settle on is “Thank you.” I let my head roll back on the cushion. Meet his shoulder. Don’t bother hiding the way I’m burying my nose in the soft, worn flannel. He doesn’t mind: I can practically taste his satisfaction and relief at not having to fight me on this. It’s a sweet, joyful flavor against the roof of my mouth. “You know, your room might be better.” “Why?” “Comfier bed. Tub.” I blink a few times. Leave my eyes closed. “Smells like you.” He grumbles something low that I can’t make out. Before I can ask him to repeat himself, I’m already sound asleep.