Page 73 of The Girl Who Should Be Dead

Somehow, she slept through him cuddling against her; somehow, she rolled over until she’s in the center of the bed with him, and her limbs are loose with warmth and comfort. His foot is once more hooked around her ankle, as if keeping her in place.

She breathes out, and dust mites dance in the morning sunlight. It’s bright, clear and cold, and the far away howling of wind across the building just prods her to stay in place. To stay under the blankets and against the pillows.

Gurlien had changed the pillowcase to one she didn’t bleed on.

She knows enough about humans to know that this level of contact isn’t normal, that humans don’t just do this with one another unprompted. That the body had dreamt of contact like this, in her most loneliness, and Ambra had marveled at the specificity of the images.

Yes, some demons chase after contact with humans, rareand difficult with the realities of their biology, but Ambra never had. Never had the impulse to lose herself with touch, to intentionally overwhelm her senses, with this close of physical connection.

This doesn’t feel overwhelming, not in the way she’s become accustomed to. Other demons had described it as incandescent, as burning a hole through their sense of self until all they can think about is the physical need. But this, with his arm around her and her back against his chest, is much closer to just…comfort.

She breathes out again, and he sighs in his sleep, a small sound.

And he had saved her. Had, despite all his own misgivings of the leash, despite all his own doubts about his own ability, been able to grasp the leash right back and slam her into place.

And then cuddle her.

Now well and truly awake, she wiggles out from underneath his arm, and he makes another sleepy noise, deep in the back of his throat, before he flops over to the other side of the bed, his blond hair sticking up in the back.

Even his glasses are by the side of the bed, rendering him almost entirely without armor.

Ambra takes a few moments to slip on her tinted glasses and some socks and grab her phone, then carefully creeps over to the fridge. Gone is the acid wash of fear in her stomach, leaving her with an almost contented hunger.

It’s wholly unreal. Wholly unlike her.

She shivers the moment she strides out of her strongest protections, but no jerk of the leash strikes her, no otherwise demon interference.

And she lets herself hope, until she squashes it down.

It’s too much to hope that they’d give up. It’s too much to hope that they’ll view the night before as a final act.

Instead, Nalissa or Boltiex is out there, scheming a way around her defenses, as much as they don’t understand them. Scheming and researching and poking around them until they figure something out.

And here Ambra is, wearing socks that were bought just because they’re soft, and staring at the fridge like it could solve her problems.

Balefully she opens it, and finds no more elucidation. There are protein drinks and some leftover casserole that Gurlien made, which was nice but not appetizing at the moment. There’s more cheese sticks, which appear far too rubbery for her taste, and a few things she would categorize as ingredients but not necessarily ‘food.’

She’s going to have to learn how to cook and clean and do all the small things humans do to fill up their time. And if the mere act of rebandaging a wound is boring…this isn’t going to be great.

She grabs a bottle of juice, and the warm comfort of sleeping next to Gurlien is almost already gone, so she settles into the desk chair, poking on the phone.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, her phone must’ve lit up like crazy, but that too didn’t wake her up.

It’s the contact ‘T,’ not in the group chat, just to her.

T (2:03 AM): Are you alright?

T (2:23 AM): To clarify, Gurlien told us you fought off an attack.

Ambra scoffs, because she did no such fighting and to call it an attack is almost a misnomer.

T (2:24 AM): Everyone was focusing on how it’s exciting that Gurlien was able to do something and the implications, but I wanted to check on you.

T (2:24 AM): And I know something about how terrifying it is to not be in control of yourself.

It’s another small hint of the mystery, and Ambra lets her eyes flicker to Gurlien’s still sleeping form. All she can see of him is his hair, the blankets pulled up to his ears.

AMBRA (9:12 AM): I feel like shit. Gurlien did all the fighting and I just got bloody. Then I slept for about twelve hours.

---