Chapter 3 - Stupid Cupid

Lucian went still when she leaned her forehead to his chest and gave him her name.

For the first time, there was something in her voice—something raw and bitter, edged with more than just rage. And fuck, he was used to anger, used to people cursing his name. But this?

This was the sound of someone who’d believed, once. Who had wanted to believe. And who had been destroyed for it.

His smirk faltered. Just a flicker.

Then she looked up at him—angry, hurt, bruised in a way arrows couldn’t fix.

Rose.

Lucian exhaled, rolling his eyes like he hadn’t just felt something unwanted settle in his chest. "Yeah, well," he muttered, tilting his head, "love sucks, sweetheart. That’s why I don’t deal in it—I just throw the damn arrows and let people ruin themselves.”

He pulled back slightly, giving her a slow, dry smirk. "But thanks for the introduction, Tragedy.” He winked. "It’s nice to officially meet you, Rose.”

  

She took a long, suffering drag of air into her lungs and ran a hand through her bouncy strawberry curls that now hung limp around her impish face. 

"Don't lie. You hate my guts. You'd smite me if the paperwork didn't bother you so much." Stepping away from him, she hissed out a breath as the pull came, but it was bearable in about a five-foot radius around him. Beyond that, she could feel it like teeth across her nerves. 

Lucian gave her an exaggerated once-over, silver eyes sweeping from her scowling face to the stubborn set of her shoulders before landing back on her glorious misery.

"Hate’s a strong word,” he mused, smirking. "But it’s not incorrect.”

"So do I keep calling you diaper boy?"

He flexed his fingers, rolling his shoulders like this entire situation was a bad itch under his skin. "As much as I adore the disrespect," his voice dripped with sarcasm, "if you call me diaper boy again, I will drop you off a rooftop just to see if the tether bounces.”

Then he gestured lazily at himself. "The name’s Lucian. Eros, if we’re being formal. But if you ever call me ‘Cupid’ again, I’ll smite both of us just to end my suffering.”

  

She stared up at him for a moment, the vision of him tossing her off a rope and her bouncing back grotesquely stuck in her head. 

Oh god. what if it was true? 

She had an errant thought about trying it. 

What's the worst that could happen, right? Her eyebrow hiked as the scene unfolded before her eyes.

 

Lucian narrowed his eyes the second she got that look.

"Don’t.” His voice was flat, immediate. "Whatever unhinged thought just ran through that tiny little gremlin brain of yours—don’t.”

Then he sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. "I cannot believe I’m saying this, but I need you to have self-preservation for five minutes, Rose.” He shot her a look. "Because if you test that theory and I do have to scrape you off the pavement, it is going to ruin my night.”

She grunted and rolled her eyes. "You're no fun." 

Of course, it was crazy to be considering jumping off the roof, but with the way she was feeling right now. It did sound like fun. 

"How about a first-story balcony? We could throw you. You got wings, right?" Her grin was vile and completely misplaced on the pretty face god gave her.

 

Lucian’s stare was pure exhaustion.

"You are actually feral,” he muttered. "I’ve seen drunken satyrs with more survival instinct.”

Then he let out a long, suffering sigh, rubbing his temples like she was actively draining his immortality. "No one is jumping, no one is getting thrown, and if you even think about testing the laws of physics with this tether, I swear on every damn deity, I will tie you to a chair.”

His silver eyes narrowed. "And if you smile at me like that again, I might just do it anyway.”

She rolled her eyes and started walking to the car, when she hit the 'wall' of their proximity, she glared over her shoulders. "Seriously, Lucy! You're just going to do this out of spite every time!?"

 

Lucian smirked, taking his sweet time following her. "Oh, absolutely," he said, utterly smug. "I am deeply committed to making your life as miserable as you’ve made mine.”

Then he tilted his head, pretending to think. "Or, I don’t know, maybe you could just remember we’re magically handcuffed and stop strutting off like an idiot.”

His grin sharpened. "But by all means, keep trying. Watching you smack into nothing is the best entertainment I’ve had in centuries.”

She watched him with thinning patience as she imagined a hundred ways to squish him. 

Even if he was a giant. 

Even if he was a god. 

She was up to eighteen when he started moving. "Insufferable jerk. Get in the car."

 

Lucian stretched, taking his time—just to piss her off—before finally moving toward the tiny, insulting pink death trap she called a car.

"Now I get orders?" He shot her a lazy smirk. "What happened to ‘fuck you, Cupid’ and all that fiery independence, Rose?”

Then he stopped in front of the passenger door, eyeing it with pure loathing. "You sure this thing won’t smite me first? Because honestly?" He sighed dramatically. "Might be preferable to another car ride with you.”

"You could divine magic me a bank account and I will buy a damned Maserati." She slid in and adjusted everything again like a rabid little compulsive gerbil. Mirrors, seat, belt. Then she blinked at him as he contorted himself into the passenger seat. 

It occurred to her. He would have to stay with her. She nearly had an aneurysm thinking about it. "I'll have to take you home. Oh god, you'll have to sleep in my ROOM! Dear god, how the hell am I supposed to SHOWER!"

 

Lucian froze mid-contortion, his silver eyes snapping to hers as he suddenly processed the same horrifying reality.

"Oh, fuck no.”

He twisted in the tiny space, glaring at her like she had just suggested something unspeakable. "I am not sleeping in your room, and I am definitely not sticking around for your human hygiene rituals.”

His jaw tightened as he braced a hand against the dashboard, like sheer willpower would unbind him from this nightmare. "*There has to be a loophole. A buffer zone. A couch—for the love of Zeus, tell me you have a couch.”

"The couch is like twenty feet away! In my living room!" She wailed. "I don't want to live with a boooooy!"

 

Lucian let out a harsh bark of laughter, throwing his head back against the headrest. "Trust me, sweetheart," he said, wiping at a nonexistent tear. "I don’t want to live with a rabid little gremlin, either.”

Then his smirk curled, slow and wicked, as he turned to her. "But hey, look on the bright side, Rose." His silver eyes gleamed with mockery. "At least now you finally have a man in your bed.”

  

"You....ph....ARGH!" She clawed her hands towards him with a growl before she put the car in gear, putting all her homicidal fury into driving them home. 

 

Lucian just grinned, stretching out as much as the tiny hellbox of a car would allow.

"That’s right, nightmare,” he drawled, watching her grip the wheel like she wanted to crush it. "Channel that rage. Drive us straight into a wall. Maybe the impact will knock some sense into you.”

Then he smirked, tilting his head. "Or, you know, at least knock you unconscious long enough for me to get some peace for once.”

  

"Which wall?" She swerved around a garbage truck like she was driving a Ferrari and not a tiny pink insect. 

"How about that one?" She grinned gleefully at an alley wall not far away. He would learn that being literal with Rose would sooner get them both killed.

 

"FUCKING HELL—"

Lucian lunged for the wheel, his hand slapping over hers as he yanked them away from certain death, his silver eyes wild with actual panic for the first time since meeting her.

"ARE YOU DERANGED?!" He bellowed, wings flaring into existence inside the cramped car, feathers everywhere as he tried to wrestle control from the madwoman beside him. "YOU DO NOT THREATEN A GOD WITH A HEAD-ON COLLISION, ROSE!”

Then he growled, gripping the dashboard as the car corrected itself. "That’s it. I’m learning how to smite people for stupidity.”

  

Rose let out an unhinged snicker and looked at him with amused green eyes before dragging her gaze back to the road. 

"Wow. You look like a harried bird." She spotted something glittery white on her dashboard and reached out. She picked up the fallen white feather and peered at it. "Pretty. Can I keep it? I can scratch my toes with it."

 

Lucian glared at her, still gripping the dashboard like it had personally wronged him. "If you so much as think about using my divine plumage as a toe scratcher, I will smite you on principle.”

Then he snatched the feather from her fingers before she could do anything weird with it, shoving it into his coat. "Gods, you are feral.” His silver eyes narrowed. "Do you eat crayons when I’m not looking?"

  

"They taste like wax. I prefer lead." She snarked and turned towards a line of pretty houses and well-kept yards. 

A pretty little neighborhood that put him in a sense of rightness until her pink bug lurched up the driveway of what looked like an old Victorian house falling in on itself and nearly smothered in ivy and overgrown plants.

 

Lucian stared.

Then he slowly turned to look at her. "...This is a haunted house.”

His silver eyes dragged back to the ivy-smothered disaster in front of them. "This is where people get murdered." He gestured vaguely at the dark, looming structure. "This is where small Victorian children stand in windows and whisper ominous shit before vanishing.”

Then he sighed, rubbing his temples. "Of course. Of course you live in a fucking demon nest.”

  

She scowled at him and got out of the car with a squawk of indignation. "This is my grandmother's house. I've lived here all my life." 

Then her scowl turned into a vile grin again as she leaned close to him. "The Victorian children only eat angels on Tuesdays, and the basement is not accepting any corpses. You should probably stay away from the fireplace; I'm pretty sure the demon that lives there, likes baby boys in diapers."

 

Lucian stared at her, unmoving, his expression unreadable.

Then, very slowly, he leaned in—silver eyes dark, voice dropping into something low and mocking. "You do realize, nightmare, that I am not an angel, right?" His smirk curled, dangerous. "I’m older than your demons. And I don’t get eaten. I do the eating.”

Then he straightened, clapping a mock-gentle hand on her shoulder as his smirk turned infuriatingly smug. "But don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll make myself right at home.”

Then he stepped past her, heading straight for the front door like he owned the place.

  

"Tsk." She took a suffering breath, taking a moment to roll her eyes, but then she was being dragged as he made his way up the steps. "Hey! Stop with the pulling! We're attached, remember?" 

She grumbled and fished into her jacket pocket for her keys and let them in. Inside the house was pretty normal. Neat, but brimming with things that were obviously not hers. Like she hadn't touched anything, or moved anything. 

There was a beat-up old laptop on the coffee table, an open kitchen in the back where her plates were still on the island counter, but beyond that...the house didn't look like it was hers at all. It was like the old woman still lived there.

 

Lucian stepped inside, gaze flicking over the space with slow, sharp assessment.

It didn’t take a genius to see it—this wasn’t her house. Not really. She lived here, sure, but she didn’t touch it. Didn’t claim it.

His silver eyes swept over the shelves lined with old trinkets, the furniture arranged just so, like it had been frozen in time. His gaze lingered on the dusty picture frames, the untouched corners, the hesitation woven into every part of it.

Interesting.

He exhaled, throwing himself onto the couch like he belonged there, wings flickering out before vanishing again. "Cozy,” he mused, stretching out like a problem. "Bit grandma corpse chic for my taste, but hey—at least there’s a couch.”

Then he tilted his head at her, smirking. "So, nightmare—where’s my room?"

  

"You mean my room." She glared at him, hating how his eyes ate everything up around him like he was using it to judge every inch of her life. "And get up, we're going into the kitchen, I'm hungry."

 

Lucian didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. Just stretched further, making himself as insufferably large as possible on her couch.

"Correction," he drawled, silver eyes gleaming with pure mockery. "You mean our room." His smirk turned downright wicked. "And you better hope you don’t snore, Rose, because I’m a light sleeper.”

Then, finally, with a long, suffering sigh, he stood, rolling his shoulders before strolling past her toward the kitchen like he lived there now.

"You better have something good in there, nightmare,” he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Because I swear to every god still listening, if all you have is sad single-person food, I’m haunting your pantry.”

  

She trailed after him, shouldered him away from her fridge, and growled. "For a shackled cupid, you overreaching aren't you? Be glad there is food." She pulled out leftover pizza and nuked it in the microwave.

 

Lucian snorted, leaning against the counter as he watched her with lazy amusement.

"Oh, I’m thrilled,” he drawled, silver eyes flicking to the microwave like it personally offended him. "Nothing says divine cuisine like stale mortal bread and mystery toppings.”

Then he smirked, tilting his head. "I suppose I should be grateful you eat actual food. I half expected this kitchen to be stocked with nothing but vengeance and bad decisions.”

  

She opened the box, grabbed a slice, and hopped up to the counter to just sit and eat there, happily munching away. But she did give him a choice finger.

 

Lucian grinned, slow and wicked, watching her perch on the counter like some feral little goblin with her sad excuse for a meal.

"Charming," he mused, smirking as he plucked a slice for himself without asking, taking a casual bite.

Then he pointed at her with the crust. "So, this is what love-hating revenge gremlins eat. Tragic.” He chewed, then shrugged. "Could be worse. Could’ve been salad.”

  

"Shut up, diaper baby. You're not better than I am. So don't pretend like you're any more of an advocate of the farce your big mama Aphrodite thinks makes the world go round. Love is overrated and stupid." She rolled her eyes and polished away a slice before reaching for another.

 

Lucian snorted, tossing his crust back into the box like he was already done humoring mortal food.

"Sweetheart," he leaned in slightly, voice rich with mockery, "if you think I advocate for anything besides my own peace and quiet, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Then his silver eyes narrowed, something sharp creeping into his smirk. "But you?" He flicked a finger at her. "For someone who claims love is overrated and stupid, you sure talk about it a lot.”

  

She met his eyes with a glare. "You brought it up." She hopped off the counter and grabbed a beer from the fridge, popping the can and taking a long swig.

 

Lucian watched her, his smirk deepening as she chugged like she was trying to drown the conversation entirely.

"Mmm.” He tilted his head, mock thoughtful. "And yet, you’re the one who hunted down a witch, sabotaged my job, and doomed yourself to celestial house arrest just to stop two people from being happy.”

His silver eyes gleamed. "Seems like a lot of effort for something you supposedly don’t care about, Rose.”

  

"I sabotaged them because that cheating asshole does not deserve happily ever after." She turned and met his eyes. 

"I didn't set out to ruin your retirement." She looked almost sorry, and she waited until he softened, thinking she was apologizing, before she let her pretty mouth stretch into a nefarious grin. "That was just a bonus," she amended. 

 

Lucian had just started to arch a brow, just started to consider—however briefly—that she might actually be capable of remorse.

And then she grinned.

His smirk vanished. His jaw ticked. His wings flickered in and out of existence like he was physically restraining himself from hurling her through a window.

"You little—" He cut himself off, exhaling violently through his nose.

Then, slowly, dangerously, his silver eyes narrowed. "Alright, nightmare. You wanna play? Fine.”

He took a deliberate step forward, leaning in just enough to invade her space, his smirk curling back into something wicked.

"Hope you’re ready for a very long eternity.”

  

"Hope you're ready for yours because there is no fucking way, I'm helping Jack and Jill be anything but miserable." She leaned back against the fridge, completely unfazed by his leaning closer.

 

Lucian let out a slow, mocking chuckle, his silver eyes gleaming with something downright predatory.

"You will, sweetheart,” he murmured, tilting his head. "Because unless you plan on sharing a bed with me for the rest of your mortal existence—" his smirk sharpened, "—you don’t really have a choice.”

Then he pulled back, casual as ever, rolling his shoulders like none of this was an issue for him. "So take your time, Rose. Be as stubborn as you want.*” He stretched, flexing his wings before letting them fade. "I can wait.”

Then he smirked. "Can you?"

  

She scowled at him. "I'd rather share a bed with you than let those two be happy." She tried to walk around him and grumbled. "You are abnormally tall. Outa my way."

 

Lucian grinned, shifting just enough to block her path, utterly smug.

"Oh?" His silver eyes sparkled with mockery. "Rather share a bed with me, huh?" He leaned down slightly, voice dropping to a slow, taunting drawl. "Careful, nightmare. Sounds like you’re warming up to me.”

Then he stayed exactly where he was, arms crossed, smirk unwavering. "Say please.”

  

She tilted her head back, his proximity making her bristle, but she offered him a sweet smile this time. 

"Please go to hell." 

It was true, though. 

The thought of helping Jack and Jack find happiness made her want to curl up into a little ball and die. Or maybe curl them up in a little ball and kill them. 

Either way, she was disappointed to be stuck with a god who had a bit less wrath in him than she wanted. Some smiting would be healthy right now.

 

Lucian grinned, slow and infuriating, like he lived to piss her off.

"Oh, I am in hell, sweetheart,” he murmured, smirk curling wider. "And you’re my own personal demon.”

Then, finally, finally, he stepped aside—but only just enough to let her pass, his silver eyes watching her with a sharp, knowing gleam.

"Run all you want, Rose,” he called lazily after her. "You’ll break before I do.”

  

She brushed past him, infuriated with how he was in her personal space. 

"Urg, all this brushing up against me. I think you kind of get off on it," she muttered and stalked forward towards the stairs, feeling the pull between them get taut until she reached the foot and growled. "Move diaper boy!"

 

Lucian just laughed, slow and smug, watching her struggle with the tether like it was his new favorite pastime.

"Sweetheart,” he drawled, stretching his arms behind his head, "if I got off on being near you, you’d know.” His silver eyes gleamed, sharp with mockery. "Trust me, nightmare—you do nothing for me.”

Then he took his time strolling forward, letting the tether drag her back a step before finally—finally—closing the distance.

"Alright, princess." He smirked, cocking his head. "Lead the way to our room.”

 

"My room! And I'm gratified that your semi-sexless state persists, or sleeping with you in the same room would be really...hard." She smirked obnoxiously and led the way to a room that was starkly different from the rest of the house. 

She felt a little self-conscious letting him in there. Switching the light on, and walking around to pick up stray clothes, but otherwise it was neat. The furniture was white, modular, and had modern lines. A splash of color here and there. 

A wall of books, a splatter of small plants in the window, and a table spilling with scientific journals, mostly astrophysics. She has a single bed, one sheet, one pillow, and a few stuffies sitting there looking like they'd been hugged a lot.

 

Lucian stepped inside, silver eyes sweeping the room with slow, sharp interest.

Well, well, well.

This was the first place that actually felt like her. Gone were the dusty relics of the past—this space was clean, modern, real.

His gaze lingered on the books, the science journals of all things—unexpected. The plants, the painfully small bed, and then…

His smirk twitched.

The stuffies.

He bit back a wicked comment—for now—and instead leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her scramble to make the place more presentable.

"Huh,” he mused, tilting his head. "Didn’t peg you for a space nerd, nightmare.” His smirk returned, slow and dangerous. "Though I guess it makes sense. You clearly enjoy gravitating toward terrible life choices.”

  

"Celestial bodies really do it for me." Then her eyes swept over him, and she made a face. "Well....most celestial bodies." 

Shaking her head, she walked back out to a linen closet just outside her door and brought back a fluffy comforter and a pillow. "You can have the floor, Cupid boy."

 

Lucian let out a sharp, mocking laugh.

"Oh, fuck no," he said immediately, arms still crossed as he stared at the comforter like it had personally offended him. "I am an eternal being, Rose. A god. I do not sleep on the floor like some common house pet.”

He stepped forward, a smirk curling as he crowded into her space. "But by all means, if you want to keep things fair, we could always share.” His silver eyes gleamed, wicked and taunting. "You can cling to me like one of your stuffies.”

  

Her green eyes narrowed like lasers, a soft flush of color on her cheek that made her look younger. "We are not sharing my tiny bed." 

She smacked the spare bedding into his chest and walked to the bed, removing her sneakers.

 

Lucian caught the bedding reflexively, his silver eyes sparking with a gleam of victory as he watched the flush creep across her cheeks.

Adorable.

"Suit yourself, nightmare." He drawled lazily, tossing the pillow and comforter onto the floor with dramatic disdain. "But when your spine cracks from that tiny torture device you call a bed, don't come crawling to me."

Then he tilted his head, slow and mocking, a wicked smirk curling his lips.

"Though, who knows—maybe you'll change your mind. I’m told I’m irresistible in the moonlight.”

  

"I hope you have a heart attack in your sleep." 

She walked to her closet and picked up something soft and then she threw the bundle at him. It was a soft t-shirt and a pair of pajamas. 

"These were Jack's. Put something decent on." She walked to the bathroom and hissed as the tether pulled at her. In the doorway, she looked at him, irritation making her vibrate. "Stand outside the damned door so I can at least pee and brush my teeth."

 

Lucian caught the bundle, his smirk vanishing the second she said Jack’s.

His silver eyes darkened as he lifted the shirt between two fingers, looking deeply offended. "Oh, fuck no.” He dropped it onto the floor like it was cursed. "*I am not wearing that cheating asshole’s clothes.”

Then, as she stormed toward the bathroom, he felt the pull of the tether and let out a long, suffering sigh.

"Unbelievable." He dragged a hand down his face before rolling his shoulders, stepping exactly where she wanted, just outside the door. "Go on, then, nightmare." His voice was mock-patient. "Pee in peace.”

Then his smirk curled again, wicked and taunting. "Just don’t fall in. I refuse to fish you out.”

  

"Is that a stab at my size? To the abominable love monkey, that would seem possible." She slammed the door in his face and leaned against it for a moment, praying for patience so she didn't strangle him in his sleep. Then, with a dejected sigh, she did her sleep routine.

 

Lucian snorted, shaking his head as he leaned against the wall outside, arms crossed. "Abominable love monkey,” he muttered, rolling his silver eyes. "That’s a new one.”

As she rustled around inside, he exhaled, staring at the ceiling, finally letting the weight of this nightmare settle in.

Stuck. With her. Until those two idiots got together.

He scrubbed a hand down his face. "Fucking fantastic.”

She opened the door, walked out, and smacked right into him, letting out a tiny shriek as she clung to him, almost falling. 

Changed to a pair of soft, ratty pajamas, her face scrubbed, and her unruly strawberry blonde hair in a bun, she looks surprisingly soft and young.

 

Lucian caught her reflexively, hands instantly gripping her arms to steady her. For one long, unexpected moment, he just stared down at her.

Gone was the tiny spitfire, the snarling vengeance demon who'd made his life hell since she’d shown up. Instead, standing there wide-eyed and freshly scrubbed, she looked… soft. Vulnerable. Completely different.

It knocked him off balance—just for a second. Long enough for his mocking grin to falter, something unreadable flickering through his silver eyes.

Then he blinked, regaining his bearings as his smirk snapped back into place. "Careful, nightmare," he drawled softly, releasing her arms slowly. "Wouldn’t want you falling for me literally."

But this time, his voice held less venom. Just a hint of something softer, warmer—though he'd deny it if asked.

She hadn't expected him to be right outside her door like a guard dog. 

She bristled at his implication and shoved him away from her, her green eyes sparking with her usual fire. "Yeah, I should fall for you now, and the world can just go ahead and end." 

But there was a slight flush to her cheeks before she frowned at the clothes he'd discarded. "You're seriously going to sleep in your combat pants and that ridiculous wannabe rock star's coat? Those are washed by the way."

 

Lucian smirked, completely unbothered by the shove as he rocked back on his heels, silver eyes gleaming.

"Sweetheart," he drawled, "if I had a drachma for every time someone swore they’d never fall for me, I’d own Olympus by now.”

Then he glanced at the discarded clothes with obvious disdain before flicking his gaze back to her, one brow arching.

"And?" He gestured at himself. "Do I look like I care about mortal laundry? I’ve slept in battlefields, nightmare. I’m not about to prance around in your ex’s pajamas just to make you comfortable.”

Then his smirk curled, slow and wicked. "But hey, if you’re that desperate to see me strip, you could always ask nicely.”

  

She stomped to the bed like the gremlin she could be and pulled the covers up to her chin. 

"Rot then." She'd actually thought to make him comfortable. She really should have kept her sympathy for herself. The asshole did not deserve it. 

 

Lucian grinned as she all but burrowed under the covers like an angry little hedgehog.

"Aw, don’t pout, nightmare." He stretched before settling onto the floor with zero complaints, arms behind his head, smirk still firmly in place. "Wouldn’t want you losing sleep over me.”

Then he cracked one silver eye open, mock-sincere. "Unless, of course, you are losing sleep over me. In which case—" his smirk turned wicked, "—you’re welcome.”

  

"Shut the hell up diaper baby, or I swear I will jump off my damned balcony and haunt you or eternity!" 

She pulled the covers over her head, sleep chased away with the anxious ball in her gut. A few more years of this? Fuck that, she couldn't do this for another day! How the hell was she going to do this? He couldn't stay here. She had a life.

 

Lucian chuckled, low and infuriatingly amused. "You keep threatening to throw yourself off things, Rose." His voice was mockingly patient. "I’m starting to think you just like the idea of me catching you.”

Then he sighed, shifting slightly, eyes tracing the ceiling.

"Relax, nightmare." His tone, for once, lacked its usual bite. "I don’t wanna be here either." A pause. "We’ll figure it out."

Then, just because he couldn’t help himself, he added, "Unless, of course, you really do want me to move in permanently. In which case, just say the word, and I’ll start redecorating.”

  

One of her stuffed bears came and smacked him in the face.

 

Lucian grunted as the stuffed bear smacked him square in the face, bouncing off his head before landing unceremoniously on his chest.

He went completely still.

Then, slowly, he picked it up, staring at it with the deepest look of celestial offense.

"Did you just—" He turned his incredulous silver eyes toward her lumped-up form under the covers. "Did you just throw a fucking teddy bear at me?"

  

She couldn't help the snicker, still buried under her own comforter. She pretended to ignore him.

 

Lucian stared at the bear. Then at her. Then back at the bear.

Slowly, deliberately, he leaned up on one elbow and chucked the stuffed thing right back at her. It hit the comforter with a soft plop.

"There." His voice was dry. "Sleep with your own emotional support, nightmare.”

Then he flopped back down, muttering, "Unbelievable. First night, and I’m already getting assaulted with plush weaponry.”

  

The bear disappeared into the comforter with her, and soon she was still. 

She sighed. No. 

She couldn't do this forever