Page 11 of The Teddy Bear's Prize

I wakeup with a weight pressing uncomfortably against my hip. As I roll over, trying to move from under Tobias, my fingertips graze his fake fur. If that is Tobias, then—the realization settles deep in my chest and I open my eyes, squinting to adjust to the early sunlight spilling over the blackout curtains.

In the dim light, I see the teddy bear on his back. Half of his body is dangling off the far side of the bed. I shift in bed, sitting up onto my forearm and slowly look down to see a large light gray hand with black fingernails resting against my thigh.

“Oh, my g?—”

Another hand clamps over my mouth, cutting my words off with a whimper. I freeze, the unmistakable warmth of a body pressing firmly against my back.

“Shh—shh, calm down, little doe.” His hot breath feathers against the shell of my ear, “I won’t hurt you.”

I know that voice, I think.

“You had me worried there. Breaking the spell must have taken a lot out of you.”

He keeps his hand on my hip, but he’s not restraining me. Even the one covering my mouth isn’t restrictive. I get the impression that he won’t hurt me.

“Please, let me go,” I say against his hand, but it just comes out a garbled mess.

“Fine, I will release you, but you need to promise that you won’t panic. Can you do that, little doe?” He asks, “Nod your head.”

I nod slowly, and he pulls his hands away.

“Good.”

As soon as the weight lifts from my thigh, I fist the covers and scramble off the foot of the bed, wrapping myself in the thin sheet until it resembles a dress. I rush over and flick on the light, hoping that all of this is just some elaborate sleep paralysis demon bullshit that will disappear in the bright light of day.

Nope, he’s still there and close to six-foot four from the way he nearly dwarfs my queen sized bed, but his height isn’t the most impressive part of him. Notthat.His skin is a light gray color, and he’s covered in black tattoo-like markings with no discernible pattern, and atop his head sit two short charcoal horns. Yes, he’s also completely naked, and his very impressive cock is resting against his muscled thigh.

I try my best to ignore all of that, instead taking in his gorgeous and familiar face. He looks just like my stranger from last night, the mystery man in my fantasy made flesh, but, you know, demonic flesh.

‘Who are you?” I stammer out, “How did you get in here and will you please cover yourself?” I ask, holding my hand up between us.

He sits up, resting on his forearms, “You don’t recognize me?”

“I do—I mean, no, I don’t. I thought about you last night, but no.”

He climbs out of bed, rolling his ruby red eyes as he stands, then gestures to himself with a flourish. “Hm.”

“Was that supposed to do something?”

“My magic must work differently in the mortal realm.”

With a sigh, I go to the closet and dig out a pair of extra-large men’s gray sweatpants. They came in a two-pack with a solid black pair that I keep in rotation. I look over my shoulder and unceremoniously throw the pants at him.

“I’ll be able to focus better if you put those on.”

He chuckles, the low sound settles against my core.

I change into an oversized t-shirt and shorts from my closet before letting the sheets pool at my ankles. Behind me, I can hear fabric rustling and the demon’s feet shuffling against the carpet.

“You can turn around now.”

“Why were you naked, anyway?”

He hums, “It seems I was bound before I fully manifested in this realm.”

As I face him, I’m immediately drawn to the way the sweatpants hang low on his hips. He’s strong, but not in a ‘spend hours at the gym’ sort of way. The gray sweatpants were a huge miscalculation. His body is all lean muscle, with a soft stomach and a trail of dark hair that disappears below his waistband.

“Can you stop doing that?” He asks, quirking a brow.

---