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“Wake up, Princess.”
Cordelia buried her head deeper in her pillows and protested sleepily, “Don’t wanna.” An unidentified hand gently shook her back and she snapped into a sitting position, eyes wide as she realized who was beside her. “Doyle!” He sat on the edge of her bed, clad in the maroon shirt, black jeans and brown jacket she last remembered. “Are you really here?”
“Yeah. Seem real too!” He smiled down at her, obviously not upset in the least to have appeared in her bedroom in the middle of the night. “Question is, how’d I get here?”
Cordelia hoped her hair wasn’t as scary as it felt and that she didn’t have morning breath. She pointed to the now-empty vial on her bedside table, laying all blame on it. “This weird old lady gave me some . . . potion. She had a little occult shop, and when I turned around to ask her how to make my wish, it was . . . it was all boarded up,” she finished with a frown.
“Wish?”
She nodded and hesitantly took Doyle’s hand in hers. “The lady said to wish for whatever I wanted most. I wanted you.”
Doyle’s brow creased in an almost comic expression of surprise and disbelief. “Me?”
“Yes, you. By the time we found each other . . .” Cordelia bit her lip and continued quickly, “Let’s not talk about that, okay? Let’s talk about us.”
He released her hand and gently traced the curve of her cheek. “I never thought there’d be an us to talk about.”
“Yeah, well, you’re a guy. Guys aren’t known for their intuition. Which reminds me . . .” She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him close, focusing on returning her “gift” to its rightful owner. Even after she was sure Doyle had his visions back, Cordelia remained in his embrace. When the kiss ended, she laid her head on his shoulder, secure in the knowledge that he felt the same as she did. “Why didn’t we do this before?”
“Because I was too chicken to ask you out or tell you I’m half demon.” He stroked her hair gently.
“Oh, yeah. I remember now. You still owe me dinner.”
“Whatever you want, Princess.” When Cordelia leaned back against her headboard, Doyle realized how intimate the situation was and moved to stand. The pressure of a small hand on his arm halted the movement. He looked down into Cordelia’s eyes and, seeing the fear written there, sat again, wrapping her gently in his arms. Doyle lay back against the headboard and pulled her close. “What’s the matter, Princess?”
“I just don’t want you to leave.” Cordelia’s voice barely registered as a whisper. “I . . . What if I let you leave or I fall asleep and when I wake up, you’re gone again?” She shivered at the thought and rested her head more firmly on his chest.
“I’m not going anywhere, not again. I just found you. You just get sleep, alright? I’ll come back tomorrow and-”
“No!” Cordelia craned her neck to look into Doyle’s eyes. “Please? Just . . . stay here?” Something of her usual confidence returned and she added, “Don’t get any ideas, though. You’re only staying because I’m emotionally unstable. Understood?” When he nodded obediently, Cordelia allowed herself a smile. “Good.” She laid her head back on his chest. “I’m just not that kind of girl. Well... except for that once, and,” she paused, “you don’t get to hear that story yet.”
Doyle smiled to himself and replied, “I can hardly wait.”
“Yeah, well, don’t hold your breath. And be quiet, will you? Trying to sleep here.”
Grinning even wider, Doyle planted a soft kiss on the top of Cordelia’s head. “That’s my Princess.”