The silence between them thickened, the air charged with something Davon couldn't name, didn't dare name.
Daemon didn't move, didn't press. He simply watched, his sharp eyes glinting in the dim firelight, his presence a challenge in itself.
Davon felt his pulse in his throat, his chest. He should speak, should break the tension, should do something before the weight of this moment swallowed him whole.
But then Daemon shifted, just enough to brush past him, heading toward the fireplace. His voice, when he spoke, was casual...too casual.
"Stay the night."
It wasn't a question. Davon turned, frowning. "Daemon..."
"You have nowhere else to be," Daemon cut him off, pouring himself another drink. "And I'd rather not find you passed out in some gutter tomorrow morning." He shot Davon a glance, lips curling. "Even you deserve better than that."
Davon's jaw tensed. "I can take care of myself."
Daemon smirked. "Clearly."
