Chapter 3

Orion's breath caught. He called my name, his voice low and hoarse.

"Angela…"

Just as he started to lift his arm to pull me in, I—completely unaware of what was going on—shifted back. Out of misplaced concern, I tugged the blanket up around him, tucking in both the arm he had just raised and that restless, twitching tail.

Afraid he might catch a cold, I even put on my most serious tone.

"Be good. Don't move around. And no kicking the blanket."

Orion closed his eyes like a man who had lost all hope of living.

After turning off the light, I lay down with my back to him.

Pulling out my phone, I opened the customer service chat box with a heavy heart.

Me: [Hi. My incubus seems… off.]

Customer service: [Hello, if you're having any basic care issues during the raising process, please consult the Incubus Care Manual. Ah… sorry, looks like I forgot to send you the manual last time.]

Me: [It's fine. But I don't think the manual will help. I'm worried he's sick… seriously sick.]

Customer service: [Can you describe the symptoms?]

Me: [He keeps making a rumbling sound, his body temperature's really high, and he keeps staring at me like he's sad or something.]

Customer service: [That's totally normal. It just means he enjoys being with you.]

My heart leapt.

Me: [Really? So that's normal? I thought I overworked him. He's been doing housework every day.]

There was a long pause before I got a reply.

Customer service: [Housework? Wait, you've been making your incubus do housework???]

Me: [Isn't that what they're for? Your ad said they're very capable—that they can give humans "the ultimate happiness" every day.]

Customer service: [Well, that explains why your incubus is acting strangely.]

I frowned.

Me: [So he is sick then?]

Customer service: [No. He's not sick. He's just… hungry.]

Me: [Hungry? But he eats three meals a day.]

A flurry of messages came through.

Customer service: [Not that kind of hungry. He's starving for affection—he wants to kiss you, or maybe… do other things.]

Customer service: [Incubi aren't for chores, they're for helping humans relieve their desires.

In other words, your incubus is in a state of extreme hunger and craving—you, specifically.]

Customer service: [But unfortunately, he's been throwing seductive looks at someone who's completely oblivious.]

The message ended with a meaningful smiling emoji.

Hungry for me? Craving?

What the hell?

I finally opened the Incubus Care Manual—and fell silent.

Turns out, incubi weren't meant for chores. That "capable" I'd read in the listing… didn't mean what I thought it did.

I turned around.

Orion, whom I thought had fallen asleep, was awake.

He was staring at me again, eyes full of wounded longing—and now, unmistakably, shaped like hearts. His tail, hidden under the blanket, brushed lightly against my waist. Just barely. Gentle enough that I hadn't noticed until now.

When he saw me look back, he froze and hurried to tuck his tail away. But almost immediately, it started inching back toward me, rustling softly against the sheets.

Then, in a low voice, he whispered—his tone clear but sweetly sticky, like candy laced with mint, "Master… I feel awful."

He'd said that before, in the same clinging tone. Back then, I thought he had a cold and was just being whiny.

So I, ever so kindly yet ruthlessly, made him drink several cups of hot water.

It worked, in a way. He'd stopped making noise that night—but his face had gone dark and sullen, like a small dog sulking in the corner.

But now…

Remembering what the customer service rep said, guilt pricked at me. I cleared my throat softly.

Then I lifted my blanket.

"Do you… want to share my blanket?"

Orion froze for a beat. Then, in a husky whisper, he said, "I do."