The Teddy Bear’s Prize (A Date with a Demon #1)

Chapter 12

TWELVE

Tobias

I understand it now.

The half-formed dreams filled with longing, with nothing but an obscured face, a body without a soul. They used to confuse me. Why would so much emotion be tethered to a thought, an ideal?

Now, waking with Mia using my chest as a pillow, it all makes perfect sense. This is what they are dreaming of, the memory that has been long eroded until it is not much more than a suggestion.

So, this is what humans call affection, attachment, fondness, this might even be what they describe as love. I am excited, but I cannot deny that I am also terrified. This feels fragile, like a mortal life. Not much more than a blink of an eye to a demon. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“Morning,” she mutters, looking up at me, her cheeks pink.

It reminds me of the first morning.

“Good morning, little doe.”

She sits up, looking down at me, her black hair falling over her shoulders and curtaining her face. I let my fingertips graze her cheeks as I tuck her hair behind her ear. She doesn’t flinch at my touch or shy away, she just looks at me like this is natural, expected.

I can’t say I have ever experienced this. My demon form is usually a thing of nightmares, I send mortals screaming if they aren’t shocked awake when they see me. Mia has never looked at me with anything other than surprise and sometimes concern.

“You aren’t afraid of me.” I tilt my head.

Mia’s eyes search my face, “Do you want me to be?”

There’s a teasing, breathy quality to her voice that makes my cock twitch. I sit up in bed to hide the evidence with the covers. She sits back on her feet.

“I meant my full demon form.”

“I was a little surprised. I thought this was it,” she says, placing her hand on my chest, I quickly cover it with my own, letting her warmth seep through.

“If you want, I could glamour myself so that you see me as a human like most others do.”

“No,” her hair bounces with a shake of her head, “I like you this way.”

Something beyond the warmth of her touch spreads across my chest. I could become addicted to moments like this.

“Is that why you like those scary movies?” I smirk, “You have a thing for monsters.”

Mia stammers, “No, at least not all of them. I kind of have this thing.” She looks away, “It’s stupid.”

“Tell me, little doe.”

“I’ve never told anyone this,” she pauses, “but I have always had this fantasy of playing psycho killer, you know, being chased by someone wearing a mask. Letting them have their way—” She laughs, “it sounds so wrong when I say it out loud.”

I let my powers brush against her thoughts without breaking through. I see flashes of dark clothes, a white mask, the haze of lust and without weight of choice, fully consenting to her desire until it is a pliable thing against my fingertips, bending, but never breaking.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” She looks back at me.

“I will chase you whenever you want me to, if it will make you happy,” I smile, watching her cheeks turn that lovely shade of pink, remembering how it crept down over her breasts last night until it covered most of her body, “I know better than anyone there is a thin line between fear and arousal.”

Her lips part with a sharp intake of breath, eyes drifting down my chest to where I hold her hand against my skin.

From the look in her eyes, I half expect her to break into a sprint. The idea alone is making my thoughts fuzzy to the point I am almost salivating at the prospect of it all, the mix of her emotions, sweet and tart, against my tongue as she comes apart beneath me.

Her phone chimes a warning, and she moves her hand to grab it from the bedside table, “We can talk more about that later,” Her voice is an octave lower than usual, “I need to get some coffee and get ready for work.”

Mia climbs out of the bed and walks into the bathroom. I get up and pull on a pair of jeans that she bought yesterday and a black shirt. She walks past, dipping into the closet and a few seconds later coming out with a dark purple shirt and a fresh pair of black pants.

I follow her out into the kitchen, watching as she grabs two mugs from the cabinet, setting them out on the countertop.

“Can you teach me?” I ask.

She looks over her shoulder, “How to make coffee?”

“I want to learn.”

“Okay.”

It always struck me how unique mortals are, especially when walking from one dream to the other. Their fears and enjoyment vary wildly, one happy moment might be torture to another. I didn’t realize that it stretched to every task, even the most mundane.

She walks me through how she makes her morning coffee. First, washing the electric kettle and filling it to the second line before setting it on the base and plugging it in.

It begins bubbling and hissing almost immediately as she turns and opens the cabinet, pulling out a thick canister of coffee.

“I like instant,” she says, placing her hand on the tin, “Erika had this fancy coffee machine and a little grinder when she lived here, and I admit freshly ground coffee tastes so much better,” Mia opens it and inhales, then offers it to me.

The smell is earthy and smokey with a hint of sweetness underneath that lingers there in my senses after she pulls it away.

“It just reminds me of summers with my grandma down in Oklahoma,” she explains, “when things weren’t that great between my mom and dad.” She looks back at me, brightening, “But in the morning, my grandma would make me ‘southern coffee’ like her mom used to make. It took me a couple years to realize that it was just mostly milk and sugar with enough instant coffee to make it that light tan color.”

I’m almost envious of the joy that the memory inspires and how she shines even brighter when she’s thinking about those summers.

“It sounds nice.” I incline my head, stepping closer to her.

Mia smiles up at me, “Do you have any memories like that?”

Only these moments that I get to spend with you.

But I don’t say that. “Nothing comes to mind.”

“Oh, speaking of Erika, she’s having a Thanksgiving thing this weekend since they’re going out of town. You could come with, if you’re still here,” as soon as the words fall from her lips, her expression falls.

The gravity of it settles over my chest, the unspoken truth between us. I almost forgot that I was a stranger here, that I do not fit. I was just beginning to feel?—

The kettle clicks and the rumbling water calms. She adds two spoonfuls of coffee crystals into the cups and pours the hot water over them, adding sugar and the creamer from the fridge that smells like her.

“I would like that,” I say, taking a mug.

“Good,” Mia smiles at me, “So, since witches exist, does that mean there are other supernatural creatures as well? Like, vampires, for instance.”

“Vampires exist. They’re half demons, the first species born here in the mortal realm through the use of magic.”

She watches me, her lips parted, “What else? Werewolves? Shifters? Fairies?”

“I wouldn’t speak so freely of the fae folk, even demons know not to mess with them.”

“Gotcha. Demons are afraid of fairies.” There’s a teasing lilt to her voice that makes me want to pin her against the counter.

I glare at her, “Demons respect the fae.”

Mia smirks and leans back against the counter, taking another drink of her coffee. Her eyes catch on something behind me and she curses under her breath.

“I have to go log on,” she reaches out and touches my shoulder. “I’m going to be kind of busy today, but you’re free to watch whatever movies or read anything I have. Okay?”

“Alright.”

I follow Mia into the living room, watching her walk down the hall and disappearing into her office.

Without her by my side, every moment lurches forward, one after the other. I spend so much of my time bound to the rules of dreams that I wasn’t prepared for how slow and deliberate a mortal life could be. I like it.

How could I possibly leave her?

Mia’s living room is filled with her favorite books and movies. There are so many options ahead of me, I don’t know where to start. I just know that I want to learn more about how she sees the world. I want to know her hopes and dreams that I might fashion my own.

She spoke of getting a cat. I wonder where I could buy one.

I walk around the room, my attention flitting across the items on her shelf, when I notice the white mask hanging on the far end of the wall next to a large movie poster. I carefully take it down.

It’s solid, heavy, and seems to be made of wood. Along with the two large eyes, here are other holes cut out along the edge and across the jaw and brow.

There is no way for me to repay Mia for setting me free, but maybe I can start by making a few of her dreams come true.