Chapter Twenty
The first thing he did once he’d called the truck back, and gotten her into it, was tell her he had never been so mad in his life. And even after he stopped raging at her for risking her neck for no reason, he seethed. He fumed.
Though even as he did, she could see it underneath. A hint of that same expression he’d had when he’d clocked everything she had done. It was there in the way one side of his mouth kept trying to quirk up. How it trembled with the effort not to. How his eyes sparked bright before he looked away.
It still had him all awestruck that she’d done it.
Awestruck, and just a little gleeful. Like he was proud, in some way, that she had gotten out.
That she had cast that wall spell. Then split that thing in two.
And then just as she was thinking, Maybe this was a far-fetched thing to imagine , he grumbled some grudging words as they climbed out of the truck.
“Well, I guess at least you remember enough about spell casting to somewhat take care of yourself,” he said.
“Even if you are boneheaded enough to risk your life for mine.”
But she couldn’t let that stand. “Maybe I was just inspired by the fear of losing you,” she said, in a way she thought sounded jaunty. Only it stopped him dead in his tracks. One foot on the porch, one off it. Every muscle tense. It took him an age to turn around, and even longer to say something.
“You don’t mean that.”
“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I? You’re my friend.”
“That seems like a lot of friendship for someone like me.”
“I don’t even think it’s enough, considering what you’ve done for me,” she said—much to his obvious irritation. Very obvious, because on his big demon face everything was exaggerated. A scowl seemed three feet deep. The downturn of his mouth was almost cartoonish.
Especially with those lower fangs peeping up over his top lip.
Yeah, that shouldn’t have been adorable. But it kind of was.
“Don’t talk about things like me telling you it’s okay to be a witch, and saying there’s nothing wrong with you, as if they mean you owe me something for them. They’re a given. They’re standard. They’re just standard reasonable concepts anybody should impress upon you.”
“Okay, but you know all these cool things you’re saying are making my need to be super friends even more, right?
I’m already dreaming up matching sweaters to buy us, and thinking of writing BFFs forever in the journal I can now actually have if I want to, without any fear at all.
Heck, I can even start writing stories again.
‘Why Jack and Nancy are the two bestest friends to ever friend .’”
“These are weird ideas to have while covered in gore that I am the cause of.”
“Well, I guess you’re just going to have to make it up to me by soaping it off.”
She didn’t wait for him to respond. She just sauntered past him, up the porch steps and into the cabin. And she had time to, because he seemed so flabbergasted he couldn’t do anything but stare for a moment. He watched her go, like he’d never seen her in his life before.
It made sense, though.
She wasn’t sure she’d ever really seen herself, either.
She felt electric, brand-new. Like she could do anything, if she wanted to.
And apparently that included really leaning in to this whole having a wild tryst with a demon thing.
Even if the demon was very disturbed by this casual suggestion.
“Hey, now, whoa there, honey, I know that is not something a friend says to another friend.”
“I don’t think honey is what one friend says to another friend, either.”
“Well, I can hardly keep calling you kid , after I did that to you there .”
“You say it like it was a bad thing.”
He looked up at the sky for inspiration.
“None of it was a bad thing. I just need to focus right now. Things are escalating, they’re getting worse—of course they are, you know exactly what the deal is and are doing your damnedest to help me make it in time—and you’re better but you’re not where you need to be.
You’re not enough on your own to fend off fifty creatures with five hundred mouths trying to get their way into your apartment the second I let you leave here.
In fact, I almost want to force you to stay,” he said, clearly not thinking when he did.
It just rushed out of him like a reflex.
But that was okay.
Because her answer rushed out of her, too.
“You really wouldn’t have to force me.”
And after that, there was silence.
A thick, strangely tense silence.
One he kept trying to break, then retreating before he could.
As if he really wanted to tell her all right, then yes, please do , but couldn’t quite bring himself to do it.
Like it was too much, too needy, too much of a confession of things he didn’t feel.
Or things he did feel but didn’t seem right.
She couldn’t tell.
But it was enough that she didn’t mind going with it.
Or, at least, she didn’t mind giving him any excuses he needed.
“It would have a lot of benefits. Nothing could climb in and get me, and you wouldn’t have to sleep on my roof, and I can practice and practice until I can do all the things we need me to do.
Be strong, save myself, and make sure that you have all the skills you need to win this thing,” she said, and she could see she’d gotten to him.
She actually heard his breath catch; his eyes briefly reached for hers.
He even took a step forward. Before he managed to drag himself back.
“You can’t possibly want to do that,” he said, sensible once more.
“I don’t see why not.”
“The house smells like burning matches.”
“If I had a problem with that we would have never become friends.”
His face scrunched up; he clicked his fingers. As if to say, shoot, foiled again .
But then he glanced away, into the darkness, until finally he had it.
“Okay, all right. What about the fact that my toilet has a face?” he asked.
He even seemed proud of himself for it. Despite how fun that sounded.
“Slightly more concerning, but still not exactly putting me off.”
“Steve hates you.”
“Who the hell is Steve?”
He clicked his fingers and pointed.
“The truck. My truck. My chariot,” he said.
As if she was being ridiculous, not getting that.
Instead of perfectly reasonable.
“Oh my god. You gave him a name, and the name is that .”
“You’re saying this like I’m the one who’s talking nonsense here.”
“Because you hate the idea of being so close to me constantly?”
“ Because I don’t know what I’ll do if I am ,” he hissed, clearly not thinking as he did so.
But once it was out, it was out. There was no going back.
All he could do was try to explain the clear desire that hummed in his words.
“I’m already on edge. I should have reverted by now and I haven’t because my head is full of what we did.
What you did. The things it does to me. And now the idea of you in my shower getting all slippery and flushed and probably making those little whimpery noises because I couldn’t resist soaping over your breasts and between your legs and oh man, you gotta be able to see the problem here. ”
Though of course all that did was make it worse.
She couldn’t even bring herself to feel nervous now about persuading him. He’d persuaded himself. He’d given permission. This was real, and not, at the same time. And besides: “It’s not really a problem if it’ll help us.”
“How will you being here, saying things like that, do anything of the kind?”
“Well, you want to be with someone. You want them to love you. You want to have a real relationship with them and be around them all the time and probably eventually live in the same house as they do. And you want to do it without snapping to demon form. So a few kisses isn’t really the maximum limit of your restraint and my magic that you need to test.”
“So what is, then?” he asked.
He knew the answer already, however.
It was in his eyes, heavy with desire.
On her, as she let the answer drip from her lips.
“Constant temptation,” she said.
Then headed for the shower.