The sliding door is open, so he just walks right in. "Stop being tense, Eros,” he says, like he can read my mind or something. I’m just confused. "You were drunk too," I mention, because this is definitely Saint, "Why are you doing this?" "I'm never drunk for too long," he casually mentions, reaching the stairs, "And I'm doing this because it's my job to make sure you're safe and sound in your bed." "I don't think that's in the job description for the HS," I murmur, still unable to believe he's carrying my 215 pounds up the stairs so easily, drunk and in the dark. "Not as the HS, that's not the job I meant," he responds, confusing me more, "I meant my most important job, as your mate." "My mate?" I laugh, way too comfortable as another man carries my big ass upstairs. I should just do this myself, "I thought they only said that in Europe. And I didn't think you wanted to be my friend at all. You're so weird." "Sure, Birdie," he murmurs and then he legit carries all of my
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