Page 45 of Amber Gambler

“I feel responsible, so you’re doing me a favor. I couldn’t let you walk out with nowhere to go.” I nudged him up and stood beside him. “Would you like to shower?”

“I have no spare clothes.”

“Let me worry about that.” I escorted him to the bathroom. “You know how everything works?”

“Yes.” He studied the knobs in the shower with curiosity that torpedoed my confidence in his claim. “I believe so.”

“How about I get you started?” I turned on the water and adjusted the temp, giving him room to watch. “There’s shampoo, conditioner, and body wash in this thingamabob.” I returned to the closet for a towel and washcloth. “Get cleaned up, and I’ll be back in a minute.”

Hoping he could figure out the rest, I shut the door and hit the armoire in my bedroom. I dug out a black oversized tee with a cute ghost transfer on the front. I didn’t want a lecture, so asking Matty for a pair of underwear wasn’t happening. Kierce would have to make do with matching pajama pants.

Commando. On my couch. Mere feet from my bed.

Before my brain went for a swim in the gutter, I knocked on the bathroom door then dumped the pile of clothes on the counter near the sink. I was twitchy with nerves, half wishing he would need help with his nightclothes, when he exited with a shake of his head that flung water droplets on my cheeks.

To mention I had seen Badb do the exact same thing after a dip in the birdbath was probably rude.

And if seeing him dressed in my clothes ignited a possessive spark in my chest, I was only human. Ish.

“Do you mind taking the couch?” I cleared my rough throat. “I have spare pillows and blankets.”

“To sleep?”

“Yes,” I said slowly. “You do sleep, right?”

“Yes,” he said just as slowly, as if he wasn’t certain of the answer he was giving me.

“You don’t sound sure.”

“I can lull myself into a trancelike state.”

“You rest the way spirits do.” I heard my fascination and worked to tone it down a notch. He couldn’t enjoy how often I geeked out over him. “Do you want to watch TV instead?”

“I’ll heal faster if I…” he weighed the word before using it, “…sleep.”

Returning to the hall closet where I stashed the offensive down pillow earlier, I took out a memory foam one and a sheet. “The couch is new.” I guided him to it. “It’s like a cloud.”

“I noticed you decorated in my absence.” His attention landed on the Bird Girl print. “I like it.”

“Thanks.” I dumped the supplies onto the cushions. “It was time.”

Easing down onto the couch, Kierce sat, leaned back, and shut his eyes. “How long should I…sleep?”

“As long as you want.” I noticed him slowing his breathing on purpose. “Do you want to lie down?”

“Should I?” He shot the pillow a wary glance. “Would it make you more comfortable?”

“This is aboutyourcomfort.” I tilted my head. “Where do you rest when you’re at home?”

“In my cage.”

“I’m sorry.” I flopped next to him when my knees gave away. “Yourcage?”

“To make myself vulnerable requires precautions.” He shrugged like what he was telling me was normal. “I’m safer behind the bars.”

Had I expected a death god and his PA to exist in perpetual sunshine and rainbows? No. I had done what research I could—always dangerous when relying on human knowledge—during a phase of desperation to discover what I was and how I fit into the world, but this rocked me.

“Okay.” I bit my cheek to avoid pushing for more details. “Let’s try this then.”

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