He didn’t even come close to fitting. He lay on his side since his shoulders were too wide, one of his arms hitting the floor, and his legs from the knee down hung off the end.
“What are you doing?”
Bel rolled over, nearly fell off the couch, and then sat up with a grumble. “Taking a nap.”
Raum stared at him. “A nap.”
“Yeah.”
“When have you ever taken a nap?”
“Never. I was trying it out.”
“How’d it go?”
“Fucking terrible. Who the fuck picked out this tiny couch?”
Belial had, but Raum wasn’t about to remind him of that. “Why not sleep in your bed?”
Bel slumped back in the cushions and looked out the window. “Not sleeping there either.”
“You’re not sleeping…at all?”
“No.”
There was silence. Raum didn’t know what to say to that. “Why not?”
“Who knows?” Bel stood suddenly. “Probably because I’m so goddamn stressed out all the time.”
From holding in the rage, Raum guessed, but again, he wasn’t about to say that out loud. “How’d it go with Murmur last night? Did he take the deal?”
Bel’s expression soured. “Yes.”
“So you owe him two favors now.” He could imagine how it would grate on Bel’s pride to be one of the most powerful demons in Hell and owe favors to someone he considered inferior.
Raum was half tempted to bring up stealing Murmur’s grimoire again for revenge, but he refrained. For once, the itch wasn’t crawling under his skin, and he didn’t want to draw attention to it lest it start up again.
“When was the last time you got laid?” he asked suddenly, thinking Bel looked pretty damn strung out.
Bel glared at him. “We’re not talking about this.”
“You probably need to blow off some steam.”
“You probably need to shut the fuck up before I make you.”
Raum tilted his head. “You’re uptight as hell. Maybe if—”
“I can’t, okay?”
“Why not?”
“Because…” Bel took a deep breath. “If you repeat this, I’ll kill you, got it?”
Raum held up his hands. “My lips are sealed.”
“I can’t have sex because I’d hurt the girl.” His jaw shifted.
“Hurt, as in…”
