Epilogue
Six months later, I woke to the familiar sensation of the mattress dipping as Malphas slipped out of bed. Through half-open eyes, I watched him move quietly around our bedroom, collecting clothes from the dresser.
“Time is it?” I mumbled into my pillow.
“Early,” he replied softly. “Go back to sleep.”
Malphas, now pulling on jeans over his boxers, looked slightly guilty. “It’s supposed to rain later. I wanted to clean the gutters before it starts.”
I groaned, burying my face back in the pillow. “The gutters can wait until a reasonable hour.”
“Clogged gutters can cause water damage to the foundation,” he informed me seriously, as if reciting from a homeowner’s manual. Which, knowing Malphas, he probably was.
“Come back to bed,” I tried, reaching out one arm invitingly. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
He hesitated, clearly torn between responsible home maintenance and the temptation I was offering. I decided to play dirty, pushing the covers down to reveal my naked chest.
“The gutters can wait an hour,” I suggested, stretching languidly.
Malphas’s eyes darkened, shifting toward that glowing red that indicated his more primal instincts were taking over. “Half an hour,” he countered. “The forecast says rain by eight.”
“Deal,” I agreed, watching appreciatively as he shed the jeans he’d just put on and slid back into bed.
His body was deliciously warm as he pressed against me, one large hand sliding down my side to cup my ass. “You fight dirty,” he murmured, nipping at my earlobe.
“Against a demon prince? I need every advantage,” I retorted, arching into his touch.
What followed was definitely worth delaying gutter maintenance for.
Six months into our relationship, Malphas knew exactly how to touch me, how to reduce me to a gasping, begging mess with minimal effort.
And I’d learned a few tricks of my own—like how running my tongue along the base of his horns made him growl in that delightfully demonic way.
When we were both satisfied and catching our breath, I curled against his side, tracing the now-familiar patterns on his crimson chest.
“I have a question,” I said, still feeling pleasantly boneless from our activities.
“Hmm?” Malphas stroked my hair lazily, his other arm wrapped possessively around my waist.
“The whole Gary thing… do you think he’s still in there somewhere? Or has he just become part of you now?”
Malphas considered this thoughtfully. “I don’t feel him as a separate entity anymore. In the beginning, there was a clear division—my thoughts versus Gary’s intrusions. Now it’s all integrated. Though sometimes…”
“Sometimes what?” I prompted when he trailed off.
“Sometimes I swear I hear him,” Malphas admitted. “Not as a voice, exactly. More like… a satisfied presence. As if he approves of what I’ve become. Of us.”
I smiled against his chest. “Ghostly matchmaker. That should be a Hallmark movie.”
“‘I Got Possessed by a Midwestern Ghost and All I Got Was This Stupid Boyfriend,’” Malphas suggested dryly.
I laughed, delighted as always when his humor surfaced. “I’d watch it.”
We lay in comfortable silence for a few minutes, enjoying the peaceful morning and each other’s warmth. Eventually, Malphas sighed and pressed a kiss to my forehead.
“The gutters won’t clean themselves,” he said reluctantly.
“Pretty sure you could summon some demonic minions to do it,” I pointed out. “Pustule seemed eager to help last time he visited.”
“Pustule tried to ‘help’ by suggesting we replace the gutters with channels carved from human bone,” Malphas reminded me. “Not exactly homeowner association approved.”
“Fair point.” I stretched and sat up, resigned to starting the day. “I’ll make coffee while you battle the leaf detritus.”
Malphas smiled, that soft expression that was reserved only for me. “Deal.”
* * *
Our day unfolded with the comfortable rhythm we’d established over months of living together. Malphas cleaned the gutters (without demonic assistance) while I worked on a website design for a new client. Later, we collaborated on the supernatural garden that had become our shared passion.
The garden was Malphas’s pride and joy—a seamless blend of earthly and otherworldly plants that somehow managed to coexist harmoniously.
Fireblossom with its ever-shifting colors grew alongside mundane roses.
Shadow ferns that moved subtly even without wind provided a mysterious backdrop for everyday hostas.
And the centerpiece, a brimstone lily that glowed softly at night, stood tall among ordinary sunflowers.
“The moonshade is spreading again,” Malphas observed, crouching to examine a plant that resembled ivy but with a silvery-blue hue. “It needs to be trimmed back before it overshadows the petunias.”
I watched him work, his large hands surprisingly delicate as he pruned the supernatural plant. He wore cargo shorts (which still made me smile) and a simple black t-shirt, his imposing horns at odds with the gardening gloves and sun hat he’d donned.
“I love you,” I said suddenly, overwhelmed by how perfectly imperfect our life together was.
Malphas looked up, surprise giving way to that soft smile again. “What brought that on?”
I shrugged. “Just thinking about how bizarre and wonderful my life has become. Demon boyfriend, hellish garden, occasional visits from infernal lieutenants who are now oddly invested in our relationship.”
“Pustule asked if we were considering a commitment ceremony,” Malphas admitted, returning to his pruning. “He offered to provide traditional demonic binding chains.”
I nearly choked. “Are those what I think they are?”
“If you’re thinking ceremonial artifacts used to symbolize eternal union, then yes,” Malphas said innocently. “What did you think they were?”
“Never mind,” I muttered, feeling my cheeks heat. “What did you tell him?”
Malphas was silent for a moment, focused on a particularly stubborn tendril of moonshade. “I told him that human-demon relations are complicated, and that we’re content with our current arrangement.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure why I felt a twinge of disappointment. “Good. That’s… good.”
Malphas set down his pruning shears and looked at me directly, his expression serious. “Are we? Content with our current arrangement?”
The question caught me off guard. “I am if you are,” I replied carefully. “Why? Are you not happy?”
“I’m happier than I’ve been in millennia of existence,” he said without hesitation. “I just wondered if you might eventually want something… more official.”
My heart did a little flip. “Are you asking if I want to marry you?”
“Technically, marriage is a human institution with certain legal parameters that might be difficult given my non-human status,” Malphas pointed out, ever practical. “But a commitment ceremony of some kind… perhaps.”
I stared at him, this impossible being who had become the center of my world. “Are you proposing to me in the garden while wearing cargo shorts and pruning demonic ivy?”
Malphas looked down at himself, then back at me with a rueful smile. “Not intentionally. I had planned something more romantic. There was going to be a dinner, candles, possibly a string quartet.”
“Of course there was,” I laughed, feeling a bubble of joy expand in my chest. “But this is perfect. It’s us. The demon prince and his human, discussing eternal commitment between mundane and supernatural gardening tasks.”
“Is that a yes?” Malphas asked, a rare uncertainty in his voice.
I moved to him, kneeling on the garden soil without caring about staining my jeans. “Yes,” I said, taking his face in my hands. “But I draw the line at demonic binding chains.”
He laughed, pulling me into his arms. “Pustule will be disappointed, but I’m sure we can find an acceptable compromise.”
“How about regular rings and a small ceremony? Something that won’t terrify our human friends but will still satisfy your demonic lieutenants?”
“Perfect,” he agreed, sealing the impromptu engagement with a kiss that tasted of sunshine and something otherworldly, a blend as unique as our relationship.
When we separated, both smiling like idiots, the brimstone lily behind us suddenly bloomed more fully, its glow intensifying despite the daylight.
“Did your hell-plant just respond to our engagement?” I asked, eyeing the glowing flower.
“Brimstone lilies are sensitive to emotional energy,” Malphas explained, looking pleased. “Particularly strong positive emotions.”
“So we have mood-ring flowers now. Great.”
“They’re also excellent warning systems for supernatural threats,” he added. “Which is why I planted them strategically around the property line.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You fortified our home with demonic plants?”
He looked slightly defensive. “Merely a precaution. The lower realms occasionally take interest in unusual situations like ours.”
“My overprotective demon fiancé,” I sighed, though secretly I found his concern touching. “Next you’ll be installing hellhounds as guard dogs.”
“Actually,” Malphas began thoughtfully, “a small hellhound pup might be—”
“No,” I cut him off firmly. “Absolutely not. I draw the line at pets that breathe fire.”
“They only breathe fire after they’re fully grown,” he protested. “As puppies, they merely emit smoke when excited.”
“Still no,” I insisted, trying not to smile at his disappointed expression. “Let’s master the plant hybridization before we move on to supernatural pets.”
He conceded with a nod, returning to his gardening. I watched him for a moment longer, marveling at how ordinary and extraordinary our life together was.
Six months ago, I’d been a reluctant participant in a supernatural support group, nursing the trauma of possession and a general distrust of all things otherworldly. Now I was engaged to a demon prince who cleaned gutters and grew hellish flowers alongside petunias.
Life had a strange way of working out.
* * *