Chapter 5
Kris woke up first, before Justin’s alarm had even gone off, and spent a dizzying few seconds processing whose bed he was in, whose house, what ceiling loomed overhead, and why his left arm was pinned in place. The answer made him laugh, softly and foolishly, and grin at the ceiling in question for a minute.
Justin’s hair left small hot butterfly-kisses on his cheek, sleeping flames that coiled in and out in slow rhythmic curls. That felt right too.
He lay there for a while wondering what time it was—he couldn’t see the clock without moving, and he refused to disturb his demon—and what to do with himself. Christopher Thompson might’ve once been a morning person. Kris Starr found this idea possible but unlikely.
They hadn’t moved much during the night. Justin’d meant it about
