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He dropped down, sliding under the bed. The bed was elevated, enough that I could comfortably slip under each night and be hidden by the long, draping bedspread. Raphael, in contrast, filled the space. “Of course. I said I would watch over you, Samara. What would keep you safer than sleeping at my side?”

It was an overreach of logic, the kind of declaration that only made sense because Raphael said it with such arrogance, and the glasses of wine and ale had a way of muddling my mind.

And because I wanted it to be true.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

I was warmer thanusual. Eyes squeezed shut, I relished in it. Even though I took a blanket under the bed with me, it was still a bit cold and hard to rest, and I was eager to get out from under the bed each morning. But today, the warmth made it just a bit more comfortable, and I curled deeper under the blanket even as awareness tingled at the edges of my mind. There was the slightest thrumming behind my forehead I wanted to chase away with more sleep.

Except I wasn’t curling into the blanket.

The pulsing pain in my head was the least of the unpleasantness as my eyes snapped open, and I realized I wasn’t alone.

I was with Raphael.

Under my bed, rubbing my backside into him for comfort.

After making an advance on him last night.

And being summarily rebuffed.

Fire gods, if there’s any mercy, just turn me to ash now.

“I’d say good morning, but you know I don’t lie,” Raphael said, quiet laughter accenting the words.

I tried to reply, but all that came out was a groan. I tugged the pillow over my head.

“I feel like something an ogre threw up,” I whimpered. Why in the skies did people drink if in addition to making fools of themselves, they had to remember it and feel physical pain at the reminder?

“That’s to be expected when you try to keep up with Amalthea your first night out.”

“I’m never drinking again,” I vowed. Nothing good came of it.

“At least you tried and found out for yourself, rather than letting fear stop you.”

Right. I got to try drinking. But not the other things I’d attempted. No doubt he felt my shame this morning, beneath the general malaise. At least he was kind enough to pretend otherwise.

Still, Raphael was right. In some small way, I’d conquered my fears. And I’d only done it because I’d known he was there, watching over me.

“Thank you.” My reply was quiet, not just because the pillow muffled me. “And… thank you for staying.” Even if part of me wished he was gone and spared me the indignity of waking up remembering exactly how I’d propositioned the vampire king while waking up next to him.

“Of course, Samara.”

The only thing worse than getting up and facing the day would be lingering in bed, the humiliation of last night hanging over me. I got out from under the bed, pulling the blanket and pillow and fixing them askew on the bed so it would look like I’d been in it. After all these weeks, it was a rote habit.

“Why do you do that?” Raphael asked.

I rolled my eyes, then regretted it when it made my head throb. “So they won’t know.” Because it was one thing to be so afraid I slept under a bed and another to advertise it to a castle full of predators, including the maids who entered my room each day to make the bed. Shame swirled in my gut over what I’d confessed last night to Raphael. What kind of weak-willed child couldn’t even sleep in a bed?

It was harder to confess without the alcohol lubricating my words.

Maybe that’s why people drink. Despite the shame and the headache, it let them be honest.

I fled to the bathroom. The water was tepid and did little to ease the soreness that permeated my entire body. Amalthea was right, hot water really was superior. Notthat this would be a day to taunt Demos. My feet wobbled when I got out and dressed. I pulled my hair back into a thick plait. It had turned wild from the night, and I didn’t have the energy to try to tame the knots. And because every time I pulled at the tangles, my headache compounded.

Hoping Raphael had finally left, I exited the washroom.

And there he was, appearing utterly relaxed as he sat on the settee. His legs were crossed as he spread out on the plush velvet, completely at home. Then again, the entire castle was his home. I was just staying here, for now. He thumbed through my notes.