Page 33 of Demon Hunter

I swallow as much as I can, and when he collapses back onto the mattress, wrung out and sated, I rest my head on his leg, suddenly understanding Norval. If I’d died after the attack, I would have stuck around as a ghost, too. There’s no way I could leave Dylan. No way my soul could go on without him. Even without the amazing sex, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep him in my life.

Chapter 14

Dylan

I didn’t fallinto bed until the night was nearly over, my time divided between actual work that I get paid for and the research I’ve been doing into Matt’s attack. There’s something in that code… I’d swear I’ve seen it before or… something. I don’t know, but my brain won’t let it go. It’s a niggling thought that won’t fully form.

Matt woke me at the crack of dawn—though he insisted it was after seven—for a round of sweaty good-morning sex, then I went back to sleep while he got up to do his daytime-person stuff. When I finally drift awake again, it’s to the blessed aroma of coffee wafting toward me from the breakfast tray my man is holding.

“Are you awake?” he asks.

“My eyes are open, aren’t they?” I lever myself to a sitting position. This is just one of the things I love about Matt—if he’s here, he not only doesn’t bitch about me working at night and sleeping for most of the morning, but he almost always wakes me with breakfast.

How was I ever supposed to resist a man that sweet and thoughtful? Who looks like a god naked and literally slaysdemons for a living? It’s the trifecta of perfection, and that’s before you consider how much he loves me.

The man who loves me so, so much snorts as he lowers the tray to the mattress and crawls onto the bed beside it. “Dude, trust me, your eyes being open means diddly squat.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I frown as I pick up my mug—I know it’s mine and not his because it has the word “mine” in binary code on it. Plus I drink my coffee black, whereas he dilutes his with fancy creamers and syrups. It’s a travesty.

“It means that sometimes you sleep with your eyes open, which is creepy enough, but you also talk in your sleep. And if I ask you a question, you’ll answer it like you’re awake, so we’ve had whole fucking conversations where I thought you were awake, but you were sleeping the whole time.”

My mug is frozen halfway to my mouth, and I slowly lower it. “Excuse me?” He’s joking. He has to be. Now he’s going to laugh and say “Gotcha!” and I’ll laugh, too, because it’s a pretty good one.

Shaking his head, he sips his coffee. “I wish. Creepy zombie boyfriend wasn’t what I signed up for. Lucky for you that you’re so amazing when you’reactuallyawake.”

I gulp a mouthful of coffee in a desperate attempt to wake up my brain. “How come you’ve never mentioned this before?” I sleep with myeyes open? That’s fucking weird!

I already knew about the sleep talking part. It’s why I only do sleepovers with people I trust—once I start talking, I genuinely will answer questions and hold a full conversation without ever waking up, and I have no memory of it in the morning.

Matt shrugs. “What was I going to say? ‘Babe, I love you, but when you sleep, you’re like one of those possessed dolls’?”

The chuckle bubbles up from deep inside. “A possessed doll? Like in a horror movie? Or that really old episode ofTheTwilight Zonewhere the doll pushes the dad down the stairs and kills him so it can control the rest of the family?”

He blinks at me. “Thank fuck there are no stairs in your apartment. I’m going to have nightmares about that.”

That sets me off laughing again, and when it finally subsides, Matt’s wearing a happy smile. “What?”

He shrugs. “Nothing. I just like your laugh. Have your bacon sandwich before it gets cold.”

I eat my breakfast while he has his third coffee of the day and fills me in on what he’s been doing—workout, run, call with Ian, working on the list of enemies we asked him to make. Then, as I wipe my mouth with a napkin, he asks, “So what are your plans for the day?”

“Grocery shopping,” I say prosaically. We hit the convenience store on the corner when we first got back to get some stopgap stuff, but it’s been two days, and a real shop is needed.

Matt nods. “Cool, cool. I’ll come with.” The first time he heard that I go to the grocery store, he was surprised I don’t just get stuff delivered. And sure, that’s what I’d prefer. But I live (mostly) alone and work full-time from home—if I didn’t go out for things like groceries and the occasional run, I’d turn into an official hermit. Humans need fresh air and sunlight… or so I’m told.

“Great. I just need another cup of coffee first, and…” I trail off as I realize he’s watching me expectantly. “What?”

“What?”

“Matt,” I warn. I’m still on coffee number one. This is not the time for word games.

“No, seriously. What? As in, what’s had you so preoccupied over the past two days, and when are you going to tell me about it?”

Dammit. I should have known he’d guess. That’s the problem when you fall in love with someone who’s been a friend for twenty years. They know all your quirks from the beginning.

“Aren’t the facts that someone tried to kill you, breached our security, and my regular workload enough to preoccupy me?”

He snorts and gives me a “Seriously, bitch?” look, and I sigh.

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