Luckily, Catherine laughed, easing the tension that had built up. "You are all kinds of ridiculous," she said, finishing her drink and setting the glass on the nightstand. "Phoenix Astar… Well," she paused, "I think it’s time I get some sleep. Molly and I will be leaving early in the morning, but thank you. For trusting me with this. You can, you know."

Phoenix’s chest tightened at those words. Trust—it was such a foreign thing now, wrapped in layers of betrayal and false admiration. Yet, with Catherine, it felt different. She wasn’t charmed by his fame or swayed by the pull of the curse. She saw him—really saw him—beneath the rock star facade and the infernal deal he’d made. It terrified him, how easy it was to fall into the comfort of that trust, like sinking into deep water, unsure if you’d ever resurface. He wanted to linger in this feeling, in the fragile honesty between them, but it also made him feel exposed, raw in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

Trusting her was easy, like breathing, a second nature that felt as though he’d done it a million times before. "Thank you for listening to my insanity without calling the police."

Catherine grinned, teasing him, "Oh, I am definitely calling the police. The second you wake up, some nice men will come with big nets to put you in a straight jacket and lock you up in a psych ward."

Phoenix couldn’t help but laugh at her humor. He liked her—a lot. She was funny, witty, silly, and undeniably beautiful. Everything about her intrigued him.

"So, uh, are you going to sleep up here?" he asked, his tone hopeful but hesitant.

"With you?" Her eyebrows nearly shot off her face, clearly surprised by the suggestion. It was a little insulting how quickly she dismissed the idea. "I am not nearly drunk enough to get into bed with a mortal turning demon…."

"I meant alone," Phoenix clarified, though he couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. "I can take the guest room."

"With Molly?"

He squinted at her, curious about her reaction. "Are you bothered?"

"No! No." Catherine quickly shook her head, her brown hair swaying with the movement. A few strands came loose and fell over her face, which she hastily tucked back behind her ear. "I mean, it’s probably better that way. If Molly came up here and found us in bed together, well, that would be a nightmare. She’s kind of into you."

"I noticed," Phoenix replied, his curiosity piqued by the subtle tension in her voice.

"You aren’t into her?" she asked, her tone casual but her eyes searching for something more.

Was she asking for her friend or herself? Phoenix couldn’t tell. "She’s not my type," he said, trying to gauge her reaction.

"And what’s your type?" Catherine inquired, her voice softening.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Wayward reporters," he teased, unable to resist the playful banter that flowed so naturally between them.

A smile tugged at her lips as she looked down, her fingers tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ear once more. "Well, I suppose world famous musicians aren’t that bad either," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Phoenix wanted nothing more than to close the small distance between them, to hear her say it again, closer to him.

"I knew you’d warm up to me," Phoenix said, his voice low and teasing.

"Oh, I wouldn’t go that far," Catherine replied with a coy smile. "Are you sure you want to sleep downstairs?"

Phoenix’s heart raced. No, he didn’t want to sleep downstairs. He wanted to be in this massive bed with her, even if it was innocent. He wanted to stay up all night, talking about everything and nothing, just to be in her presence a little longer. "I can take the guest room," she added.

"It’s comfier here," Phoenix said, his gaze flickering to the bed.

"Then wouldn’t you rather be here?" she purred, her tone playful yet inviting.

Yes. Absolutely. Phoenix’s eyes lingered on the bed before he swallowed hard, trying to control the surge of emotions within him. "I’m not sure I would trust myself in bed with you," he admitted, his voice raw with honesty.

"I meant… alone," Catherine smiled, her gaze meeting his with an intensity that made his heart pound.

That smile killed him in the best way possible. "But in all honesty, with the drink in my system—even with all I know and learned tonight, I’m not sure I’d trust myself with you either."

Phoenix found himself stepping closer, his body moving on its own accord. "I wouldn’t want to disappoint."

"I’m sure you’ve never disappointed any woman," Catherine retorted, her voice laced with playful sarcasm.

Phoenix shrugged, the gesture making her chuckle softly. Somehow, they had ended up so close. He hadn’t even noticed the movement, but now they were at arm’s length from each other, inching closer with every breath. She had practically crawled across the bed, while he had been drawn to her like a magnet. "So… I should probably… get to bed?" he murmured.

"Your own bed," she whispered, though neither of them made a move to separate.

They were almost touching now, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. "Yes," Phoenix agreed, his voice barely audible as his nose grazed her skin. "My own bed. But downstairs. My bed downstairs."

"With Molly," Catherine added, though her voice was shaky.

"You’ll be more comfortable here," Phoenix whispered, his lips hovering just above hers.

"Without you?"

Phoenix nodded slowly, his nose brushing against her cheek. How had they ended up so close? "Do you…" He hesitated, the words almost slipping out. He wanted to ask if she felt it too—the pull, the strange sense of knowing, like they had met in some lifetime before. But he didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. She nodded, as though she understood the unspoken question.

"I really want to…" he began, but she cut him off with another nod, her breath warm against his lips.

"Me too, but we… we can’t, it’s just…."

"The alcohol," he finished for her, their proximity making it hard to think straight.

"Yes…" she breathed, their lips so close now that they could feel the warmth radiating between them.

Phoenix’s fingers brushed her cheek, the touch light and featherlike as they both breathed each other in. He could feel her heartbeat quicken, matching the frantic pace of his own. Then, unable to resist any longer, he closed the gap. It was a peck, no more than the kiss he had shared with the devil himself, but the spark that ignited between them was undeniable. Catherine’s hand immediately found the back of his head, pulling him back toward her as their lips crashed together with a passion that had been building all night.