Nora's POV
Morning light filters through the window, and I extend my telekinetic power to draw the curtains closed. Rolling onto my side, I study James's beautiful face in the dimmed room.
Eight in the morning feels too early when exhaustion still weighs on my bones. James spent the night restless, his body temperature fluctuating wildly. He'd kick away the covers when heat overwhelmed him, then shiver when the cold hit his skin.
Under different circumstances, I might find it amusing. After centuries of being undead, he's forgotten how to manage these simple human discomforts. I adjusted the electric blanket's temperature, removed the heavy comforter, and tucked him back under lighter covers. It took several attempts before he found comfort and drifted back into peaceful sleep.
His strong arms encircle me now, and I ache to sink into his warmth and pretend everything will work out. I'd welcome another demon attack if it meant James would be safe and whole.
