The News is a Reliable Source of Information

Jarel’s eyes opened as the curtain began to glow with morning light.

His heart immediately leapt into overdrive. He was definitely late for work if he’d fallen asleep on the couch. He should’ve been more careful. Should’ve set an alarm.

Then he felt the weight on his chest, and it all came flooding back.

He glanced down at the silver wolf ears brushing against his chin. At the sleeping body of the demon who had claimed his life with the intent to ruin it. His arms were still wrapped around her, somehow having remained linked throughout the night.

He smiled unconsciously.

It felt unusual. But he liked having her lying on him. It felt strangely intimate, despite the fact that she wasn’t doing it romantically. His back ached from the night on the couch, his legs twisted at an uncomfortable angle - but he wasn’t bothered at all.

Never in his life - not even as an optimistic, daydreaming teenager - had he imagined waking up with a girl curled up on his chest.

He tightened his hold slightly, still not quite used to the feeling.

Her ears twitched. Her tail wagged twice before gradually falling still again, confirming that she liked it too.

Jarel’s thoughts drifted.

The chances of her sleeping on him again were high. So high that it would take a disaster to change things - or some very unfortunate revelation. Maybe she’d find something better for inducing laziness and change tactics.

But if she did… what would it be?

Something even more intimate?

He shivered, goosebumps rising as he considered the possibility. Then he shook his head to clear it.

Unfortunately, that movement was enough.

Quinn stirred.

Her head lifted slowly, eyes blinking. She licked her lips, staring at nothing for a few seconds.

Then her eyes snapped into focus.

Shock flashed across her face. She scrambled off him, flustered, and stood beside the couch glaring down at him.

“What were you doing?”

He sat up, rubbing his eyes, disappointed that the moment had ended.

“Holding you.”

“I think you were up to something.”

“Like what?”

It took her a solid second to think of an answer.

“I don’t know. Maybe you were going to touch me inappropriately.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“What put that idea in your head?”

She folded her arms across her chest.

“That’s what humans do to pretty girls.”

So she was aware that she was cute.

“What in the world made you think that all humans are trying to inappropriately touch pretty girls?”

She looked at him as if he were stupid.

“It’s everywhere. You take one look at what’s happening around the world and you see all these people doing it.”

He sighed.

“Did you do all your research on humans by reading the news?”

She blinked.

Then she blushed.

“N-no! But it was all recent, so I did look at a lot of it.”

He couldn’t help but grin.

“You do realise the news mostly shows the negative side of humanity, right?”

Now she looked genuinely confused.

“It does?”

He nodded.

“Yeah. Don’t believe everything you see.”

She frowned.

“Well, that’s just stupid. So how much stuff do I believe that isn’t true?”

He shrugged.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

She groaned.

He smiled and stood.

“Let’s make breakfast.”

She shook her head immediately.

“No. You rest. I’ll make breakfast.”

He sighed and sat back down.

She smiled triumphantly.

“Good. And now you’re going to teach me how to make breakfast.”

He blinked.

“What?”

But she was already marching toward the kitchen.

Jarel watched as Quinn’s tail swayed above the counter while she rifled through cabinets and drawers.

“More to the right!” he called.

Her tail shifted accordingly, marking her movement since she wasn’t tall enough for him to see from the couch.

A crash rang out - almost comical, but enough to send a sharp pang of anxiety through him.

“Are you alright?”

She replied cheerfully, “Yeah! I just knocked over a toastie maker.”

How she’d managed to knock over the toastie maker - which he’d carefully wedged between the wall and a blender - was beyond him.

He sighed.

“Are you sure you don’t want help?”

She stood upright. From his reclined position, she was only visible from the chest up. She glared down at him.

“No. That would be too much productivity from you. I can do it.”

She’d decided on pancakes, but so far she’d done nothing except struggle to locate utensils and ingredients.

“I think,” he said carefully, “I’d feel far more relaxed helping than listening to you blindly dismantle my kitchen.”

“Are you saying I’m not good enough?” she shot back.

“Yes.”

She looked genuinely mortified.

“I’m the Demon of Sloth! I can do anything!”

“I’m sure you can,” he replied, “if you learn how to.”

She glowered for a moment, then exhaled.

“Fine. You can teach me. But as soon as I figure it out, you’re not allowed to do anything.”

He pushed himself to his feet.

“Sounds good to me.”

She frowned.

“What part of this is good? I’m ruining your life.”

He froze.

Thought quickly.

Too quickly.

“Cooking with you is the good part.”

The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

His face heated.

She blinked. Then her cheeks turned pink as well.

“Jarel… are you saying you like me?”

Hundreds of possible responses flashed through his mind in a split second.

“I like the company.”

She frowned again.

“So you don’t like me.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I mean that…” He sighed. “I like having someone to talk to. And you’re great at that.”

She studied him for another second, then shrugged.

“Okay.”

He released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Every fiber of his being had wanted to say something flirtier. Something that would make her blush deeper. But reality intruded.

First and foremost - she was a demon. Did she even understand love? There was evidence she did… but she didn’t even know what dating was. That suggested some significant gaps. And what would dating a demon even look like? Especially since she wasn’t the original - just a separate conscience. Could she be recalled at any time? Did her existence hang on a thread?

He didn’t know.

Second, they’d met less than twenty-four hours ago. It was far too soon. Even if she had spent the night sleeping on top of him.

He viewed that through a romantic lens.

She did not.

And that was the problem.

Then another question crept in.

How old was she?

If her body appeared to be that of a mature woman, her conscience immeasurably ancient, and yet this version of her was less than a day old… what did that make her?

Was she-

He physically shook his head.

That didn’t matter right now.

What mattered was this: teaching a domestically clueless wolf-demon how to function.

And so began the first real lesson.

How to make pancakes.