Saved By Your Hot Book Boyfriend

8. The Hot Guy’s Night Before

8

The Hot Guy’s Night Before

Mysterious Hot Guy

—The Night Before—

I still can’t believe she let me in.

And she’s taking a shower. It would be so easy for me to walk in on her—a pathetic little lock is no match for me.

She’s just lucky I’m a gentleman.

Shower. Microwave. Wi-fi .

Words keep appearing in my mind one after another; unfamiliar words for things I’ve never heard of. Explanations materialize with each new one.

Internet . Phone.

Why is there so much to learn!?

My head throbs.

Damn that sorceress who locked me away all those years ago.

It hasn’t been quite as long as I thought. It felt like two centuries, but judging by the calendar stuck to her fridge —another new word—it was closer to a century-and-a-half.

Still.

So much has changed. Has humanity always moved this fast?

Some of the change is probably for the best. The rest? Not so much. There’s too much chaos now.

And I don’t know where my enemies are. I’m sure there’s still out there.

Waiting.

I don’t know the first thing about this strange new world.

But at least the food is good. I lean back against the kitchen counter while I help myself.

What a strange place.

What a trusting little human.

The bathroom door clicks, and out she walks in what must be the tiniest scraps of clothing I’ve ever seen.

Pajamas . There’s the word, just like I’ve always known.

But it might as well be her underwear.

The top cuts off just below her breasts, and there’s two adorable eyes staring out at me from the fabric. Yes. Eyes.

I nearly choke on the cereal I’ve been downing.

I think it’s supposed to be a caricature of a panda bear, but it’s hard to be sure.

Either way, it’s impossible to do anything other than stare.

Was that her intention? Is this little human planning to seduce me? Because if she is, it’ll never work.

For one thing, she’s weak.

I hate weaklings.

Though—she does have a nice shape. Something long-forgotten sizzles deep within as my gaze slides over her curves, and I push the feeling down, wrenching my gaze away.

She’s a human , I remind myself.

And a pathetic, helpless one at that.

“Hey!” she says, the hands she’s placed on her hips drawing my eyes back down. “Just help yourself to the whole kitchen, why don’t you?”

She tries to swipe the cereal box out of my hand, but I hold it out of her reach. Easily . She’s so short.

I forgot how short humans are.

And—I glance at the gauze tied over her upper arm.

She’s injured .

A strange, protective urge wrenches through me.

Why didn’t she tell me she got hurt? The skaddler must have got her.

Now that I’ve noticed, I can smell the blood. Her sweet scent is so overpowering, I completely missed it before.

Stupid human, getting herself hurt.

Well, it’s not my problem.

She’s fine now.

Probably.

Humans heal so damn slowly.

I shove that stupid, protective concern away, smirking at her strange little outfit as I ask, “Is it customary to walk around in front of strangers in your underwear nowadays?”

“It’s not underwear!” She protests, blushing brightly. Like I’ve successfully embarrassed her. “These are my pajamas.”

I laugh, setting the cereal box back where I got it.

Sure, sure, little human. Call them what you want, they’re still just as revealing.

But her embarrassment turns to anger as she notices the mess I’ve made of her kitchen.

“ Hey ,” I say, throwing my hands in the air as she glares at me. “I hadn’t eaten in like 150 years, okay?”

She frowns, like she doesn’t believe me. “Not 200?”

Right . Because I said it was eighteen-something when I got imprisoned.

But my head is clearer now that I’ve eaten, and I’ve seen a calendar.

“It was closer to 150.”

“Well, I’d believe 200, based on that mess.” She shakes her head, turning away. “Just make sure you clean it all up when you’re done.”

Annoying . That’s what she is.

Who does this human think she is, ordering me around?

Even if this is her apartment.

I could crush her in an instant—if it wasn’t for the magic binding us.

“Okay, Mr. Mysterious Book Dude,” she calls from around the corner. “It’s very late. That means I need to sleep, which means you need to find something silent and not-creepy to do for the next eight or more hours, otherwise I’ll be cranky. Unless this is all a dream—in which case, cool. I guess this is where we part ways.”

And—what the hell— she’s going to sleep!? She’s seriously just going to sleep—nearly naked—with a strange man in her apartment.

Sure, I’m bound by magic to protect her.

But she’s putting a damn lot of faith in some very vague magic.

After all…it would be fun to see how much I can get away with before the magic tries to stop me.