Chapter 152: Please Don’t Wiggle

Daemus let out a long, pained sigh.

"I’m about to get real hard," he said. "Real soon."

Blair’s breath caught briefly.

"Oh," she squeaked.

"Yeah."

"Should I... should I move?"

"There’s nowhere to move to, Blair." He sounded like a man in physical pain. "This bed is the size of a hockey puck."

He was right. Her back was flush against his chest, and the wall was about an inch in front of her nose. There was nowhere to go except off the edge of the mattress, and she would have to climb over him to get there.

She shifted slightly, trying to make a little room between them.

Daemus sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. "Please," he said, very carefully, "don’t wiggle."

Blair froze. Her face went so hot she was surprised the sheets didn’t catch fire.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"It’s fine." His voice was strained. "I’m fine. Totally fine. I’m just gonna think about math."

There was a long silence.

"x plus nine equals fourteen," Daemus muttered into her hair. "x is five. Five. Yes, five. Okay."

A small, helpless laugh bubbled up out of Blair before she could stop it. She felt his chest shake behind her as he laughed too, quiet and rueful.

Slowly, the tension seeped out of her shoulders. Not all of it. She was still achingly aware of every inch of him pressed against her, of his heartbeat thudding against her back and the warmth of his arm across her waist. But it didn’t feel bad. It felt like being held.

After a while, he spoke again. Quietly, this time.

"The woman in the painting," he said. "You think she’s family?"

Blair stared at the wall in the dark.

"I don’t know," she whispered. "I don’t know who my family is. I never have."

His arm tightened around her, just slightly.

"After exams," he said. "We’ll figure it out. You and me."

You and me.

Blair’s throat ached. She didn’t trust herself to answer, so she just found his hand where it lay against her stomach and laced her fingers through his.

She didn’t remember falling asleep. One moment she was listening to his breathing slow behind her, and the next, the world had gone soft and dark and warm.

* * *

She woke up to a wolf snoring in her ear.

Gray morning light was leaking in around the edges of the curtains. Sometime in the night, Daemus had migrated. His face was buried in the back of her neck, one leg was thrown over both of hers, and his arm had tightened around her waist like she was a stuffed animal he was afraid someone would steal.

Blair lay very still and listened to him snore.

She should have been embarrassed. She was embarrassed. But she was also warm, and safe, and for a few quiet seconds, she let herself just lie there and feel it.

Then, somewhere down the hall, a door slammed and a girl laughed.

Blair’s eyes flew open.

Morning. It was morning. Which meant every human in Dormitory G was about to wake up, stumble into the hallway, and head for the showers. Right past her door.

With the Wolf Prince inside it.

"Daemus." She elbowed him. "Daemus. Wake up."

"Mmph." He tightened his arm and burrowed deeper into her hair. "Five more minutes."

"It’s morning. People are going to see you."

That got through. One silver eye cracked open. He lifted his head, squinted at the light coming through the curtains, and groaned.

Getting out of the bed was a whole operation. He had to climb over her, which involved an elbow to her ribs, a knee to the wall, and a loud thump when he misjudged the edge and hit the floor. Blair buried her burning face in the pillow and tried very hard not to look at the front of his sweatpants.

He stood, stretched until his back cracked, and raked a hand through his wrecked hair. Then he went to the door.

"Wait," Blair hissed. "Check first! Use the peephole!"

He opened the door.

The hallway was full.

At least a dozen girls stood frozen in the corridor in their pajamas and bathrobes, clutching towels and toothbrushes and shower caddies. Every single one of them was staring at the Wolf Prince standing in the doorway of Room 204 at seven in the morning, with bedhead and a pillow crease on his cheek.

Nobody moved. Somebody dropped a bar of soap.

Daemus looked down the hallway. Then he gave them a big, friendly wave.

"Morning!" he said brightly. Then, after a beat, as if he had just remembered something important: "Still not pregnant!"

Blair pulled the blanket over her head and wished for death.

But Daemus didn’t step out into the hallway. He had stopped in the doorway, and through a gap in the blanket, Blair saw his shoulders go stiff. His nostrils flared. His head turned, slowly, to look at the outside of her door.

All the brightness drained out of his face.

"Blair," he said quietly. "Don’t come out here."

Of course, she did.

She slid off the bed with the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders and crept to the doorway. The girls in the hallway weren’t looking at Daemus anymore. They were all staring at her door, their faces pale.

Blair turned to look.

Something small and gray had been nailed to the door at eye level. A mouse. It hung there limp and stiff, its tiny pink feet dangling, and in the soft fur of its neck was a single, round puncture.

One fang mark.

Blair felt scream crawl up her throat, but she didn’t make a sound at all. She just stared at that one small hole and felt the cold creep slowly down her spine.

She knew exactly who had left it there.

The Crown Prince had pulled out one of Rain’s fangs and given it to Blair. And Rain had just let her know she still had the other one.