Chapter 8 #2
There's something primal about it, something that speaks to the core of what we are. He's not just breaking rules—he's reminding us that we're not bound by human limitations. That we're more than the masks we wear. And seeing him embrace that, even for a moment, makes my blood run hot.
And if Death liked men like that, I’d bend over in a heartbeat for him after he goes all Grim Reaper. That cloak? Yes, please.
Vesper stalks off toward the preschool kid, the Alpha all predatory grace, his chaos demon instincts shining through even in this human form, the power coiled beneath his skin, ready to be unleashed. A dark aura follows him, bleating around his form, threatening to reveal his demon skin. If only.
I watch, my breath catching in my throat, as he gets closer to the kid. His hand flicks out subtly, a gesture so small most people would miss it, and something flies off the shelf, spilling onto the floor.
The gingerbread cookies scatter across the tile, and for a moment, nothing happens.
Then, one by one, they start to move. They get up, their little legs forming from the dough, and they start to dance.
It's almost comical, the way they twirl and spin, their frosting faces frozen in perpetual smiles.
The kid squeals in happiness, her hands clapping together as she watches the cookies dance.
Her mother, on the other hand, starts to freak out, her eyes wide as she backs away from the display.
She's muttering something under her breath, probably trying to rationalize what she's seeing, trying to fit it into the neat little box of reality she's constructed.
But I can see the fear in her eyes. The uncertainty. The crack in her worldview.
And it's beautiful.
Vesper walks back over to me, his grin full of satisfaction, and I feel heat pool low in my belly.
He looks alive, energized, like he's just fed on the chaos he created. His hazel eyes are practically glowing, and I want to pull him close, to kiss him until neither of us can breathe. Maybe do more, but we’re in public and of all the things I’ve learned, spending time in jail for public indecency isn’t any fun.
"That was fun," he purrs, pulling me against his side.
I laugh, shaking my head even as my body responds to him, my cock twitching in my pants. "Death is going to get angry."
"Death is angry," a deep voice says behind us, and I spin around to find Duske standing a few inches away, his arms crossed over his chest. His face is contorted with mild irritation, his dark eyes flashing with annoyance. "Because starting shit like that brings more attention."
I wince, shrinking back slightly. Duske doesn't get angry often.
He's usually the calm, collected one but when he does, it's not pretty.
I'm about to apologize when I hear soft laughter beside us, and I drop my gaze to see Esme standing there, her hand pressed to her mouth as she tries to stifle her giggles.
She's looking at the dancing cookies, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement, and the sight of her so happy makes my chest ache in the best way.
Duske's anger falters immediately, his expression softening as he looks at her, and I can see the way his gaze lingers on her face, drinking in every detail.
He waves his hand, and the cookies fall to the ground, lifeless once more. The little girl pouts, her bottom lip jutting out, but her mother looks relieved, quickly ushering her away from the display.
"It's time to go," Duske says, his tone gentler now. "We have everything we need."
Esme mutters something under her breath, and I lean in to catch it. "Party pooper."
The look Duske gives her is full of so much heat that I realize maybe we've all been waiting for the right moment to have Esme.
It's not just about her being back or her scent finally coming in.
It's about this, about the way she challenges him, the way she makes him feel things he's not used to feeling.
And judging by the way his gaze darkens and the way his jaw tightens, he's done waiting.
I glance at Vesper, and he's watching them too, amusement written all over his face. He leans in, his lips brushing against my ear again. "Told you. Tonight."
We head toward the checkout, Duske leading the way with Esme at his side.
She's still holding his arm, her fingers curled around his bicep, and I can see the way she leans into him, seeking his warmth and his protection. Vesper and I follow behind, our hands brushing as we walk, the tension between the four of us almost electric. I don’t even focus on anything else other than Esme’s little sighs and smiles as she takes in the surroundings.
By the time we step back out onto the pavement, I feel like my heart is going to explode out of my chest at how happy she is.
Esme tilts her head back, closing her eyes as the warmth washes over her.
"I missed this," she says softly, her voice filled with wonder. "I missed feeling the sun on my face."
Duske's hand comes up to rest on the small of her back. "We'll make sure you get to feel it every day."
She looks up at him, her blue eyes searching his face, and I can see the way her expression softens, the trust and affection written all over her features. "You promise?"
"I promise," Duske offers.
I know that Duske believes that, too. That whatever ideas he has up his sleeve might very well allow us to have Esme back with us all over again.