Chapter 17
Seren
I’ve made a lot of rash decisions in my life, but agreeing to travel back to the demon realm and shack up for the night with my supposed demon mate might just take the cake.
Still, as we both step into the Veil’s light and fall through weightless non-space for a few reality-bending moments, I can’t make myself regret it.
I really, really didn’t want to go home.
Mom’s still a member of the coven. Not as connected as Soleil, but a member all the same. And if I know anything about the speed with which gossip travels from the coven hall to the network of Crescent witches all over the world, I’m nearly positive someone will have called her already.
Or sent a raven.
Or an enchanted rabbit, or whatever.
Somehow, some way, she’s heard about it.
My cell is long-dead so I don’t know if she tried to call me, and maybe I should care more about how much she’s probably freaking out, but I can’t make myself regret that, either.
Going home would have meant a warm meal and a comfortable place to sleep, but it also would have meant another gentle lecture from my well-meaning, if misguided, parents.
Neither of them has ever fully understood my reasons for leaving the Crescent Coven. Neither of them knows the full depth of the rift between me and my sister.
It’s all a mess. And not one I feel capable of dealing with right now.
So, to the demon realm I go.
As soon as we’re out on the other side, Callum offers me his hand.
“It will take a couple of jumps,” he says.
“Jumps?”
“Portals. I live in a city on the far end of the realm. Since I’ve got a passenger, I’d rather not risk botching a jump by trying to be showy.”
“You mean we’re not flying?”
The corner of Callum’s lip quirks, and his wings flare behind him.
Magnificent wings. Black as midnight, leathery, with small stripes of scars criss-crossing them at various points over their smooth surface.
The wings of a demon who’s gotten himself into a few scuff-ups over the years.
“I’ll take you flying some other time, if you’d like.”
Inexplicably, the hint of a blush climbs my cheeks.
I should be immune to this demon.
I shouldn’t be noticing his wings or his horns or his tail or any other part of him.
I almost freaking died today. There shouldn’t be any part of me still capable of admiring anything about him.
Yet here we are.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, ducking my head so he doesn’t see the pink staining my skin. “We’ll see about that.”
“I certainly hope we will.”
With nothing to say to that, I take his hand when he offers it again.
His arms would be better.
But I’ve got no business thinking that, either. Even if I’m still not entirely steady on my feet after everything that’s happened today, I’m not about to ask if he can swing me up into his big beefy demon arms and carry me.
Besides, there’s no time to ask as he opens a portal and steps us both through.
It’s not as disorienting as going through the Veil, but it’s a close second.
And by the time he opens one, two, three portals, hopping us closer to wherever we’re going each time, I think I’d choose another trip through the Veil over the world-warping sensation of traveling what’s probably hundreds or thousands of miles in seconds.
“Just one more,” he tells me when we step out into another unfamiliar landscape.
This one looks like coastal scrubland. The air is tinged faintly with salt, and flat land filled with sparse, low-lying vegetation spreads out for miles in all directions.
“There’s a drop-zone in the city not too far from my apartment,” Callum continues.
He could tell me we’re about to drop down on a mountain peak or a lake of lava for all I care. I’m so damn wobbly and dead on my feet I’d follow him just about anywhere if it meant a place to sit down.
“Great,” I say, drawing in a deep, trembling breath.
Just as he’s about to open another portal, Callum freezes.
He looks hard at my face, eyes searching, evaluating, and he must not be satisfied with what he finds because he curses low under his breath and reaches for me.
“What are you—”
I don’t get to finish my sentence before I’m hefted up into those arms I was admiring. Before I can protest, he steps us through the final portal.
When we stumble out the other side, we’re in the middle of a bustling city.
Even at this late hour, there are still plenty of demons around.
Music filters out from buildings that must be clubs or restaurants, the mouth-watering aroma of grilled meats and other foods washes over me, and both Callum and I are cast in the warm yellow glow of the burning streetlamps set up and down the edges of the cobbled streets.
I wiggle in his grasp, trying to get down, but Callum’s not letting me go anywhere.
“My home isn’t far.”
“Great,” I tell him again. “So there’s no reason I can’t walk to—”
He starts walking.
Down the street, and then into an alley. Another street, another alley, and by the time we reach a set of steep stairs that lead up into an apartment, I’ve stopped complaining.
Really, I can’t be too mad about my own personal demon taxi service.
Especially when it comes with arms that keep me held safe against his chest and a face grumpy enough to warn off anyone we cross paths with.
The building is made of deep gray stone, pretty much indistinguishable from the tangle of city surrounding it. It’s solid, but worn with time, with a few shops on the ground floor and what appears to be a handful of small apartments making up the rest.
When we reach Callum’s door, he finally lets me down.
But he doesn’t stop touching me. At least not right away.
He keeps both hands braced on my upper arms, grip firm but not tight, eyes still tracing every detail of my face until he’s satisfied I’m not about to fall over.
It makes me want to cry.
Stupid.
I know it’s stupid, but I can’t help closing my eyes and savoring that touch.
Strong and steady, big hands and long fingers that are warm—so warm—and unerring as he makes sure I’ve got the support I need.
I can’t remember the last time someone held me up.
I can’t remember the last time I depended on someone other than myself.
Even though I also know I shouldn’t indulge the urge to let him help me, the urge to take every little bit of support he offers like I’m a parched woman in the desert and he’s an oasis, I do it anyway.
For a few seconds, I let myself believe I could have this.
A handsome—albeit surly and stubborn—demon who will be right beside me when I need a helping hand. Someone who’ll be there for me with no expectation of anything in return.
But that’s not the truth, is it?
Of course he expects something in return.
Just like everyone else in my life.
I open my eyes.
Callum still looks worried, with a deep furrow in his brow and a frown I can make out even behind his dense, bushy beard. His crimson eyes focus on mine, as if he’s trying to hear all my thoughts and reassure himself that I’m okay.
But I make myself ignore that, too.
“This is your place?”
Callum nods slowly, eyes finally sliding away from my face, only to narrow again.
My gaze follows his, and I turn to see what he’s looking at over my left shoulder.
There’s a note pinned to his door, but he rips it down as soon as he sees it. I don’t have a chance to read what it says before he’s tucked it into his pocket, out of my prying eyes’ view.
Before I can ask him about it, he leans in and unlocks the door.
It puts him in unfortunately close proximity, and I try not to lose all my better senses again over the scent of smoke and leather and pine and male—too many good things all at once.
The moment passes, though, and he leans away, leaving me reeling and feeling like an idiot all over again.
We step inside, and he moves to light a lamp at the side of the room.
The inside of Callum’s place is pretty sparse.
Like a studio apartment back in the human realm, all the essentials are laid out in one room.
A small kitchen, living space, and bed tucked into a small alcove in the back corner.
There’s a door on the far wall that I assume must lead into some sort of bathroom, but who knows?
It’s not like I have a lot of experience with demon dwellings.
But it’s clean and tidy and smells faintly of that same deep, sharp, masculine scent I was losing my mind over just a few seconds ago. It’s so comforting and strangely familiar that it takes way longer than it should for the full gravity of the situation to wash over me.
I’m alone.
With Callum.
With my supposed demon mate.
In the small space, there barely seems to be enough room for the both of us.
He’s just so… here.
So big. So present. Even with his wings tucked in tight, standing off to the side in the small kitchen like he’s trying to give me space to acclimate and get comfortable, it’s undeniable.
We’re here. Together. Alone.
What the hell was I thinking?
I wasn’t.
Just like I never think. Just like I never take a damn second to run through any of my impulsive, insane plans before I—
“I know we didn’t have time to stop at your home or get any of your things,” Callum says. “So if you’d like, I’ve got some spare clothes that you could—”
“It’s alright,” I interrupt before I can give myself more than a second to imagine how cozy it would be to pull on one of his shirts and curl up in that demon-sized bed. “I’ve got everything I need in here.”
He looks at my small satchel dubiously, and I let out a soft laugh before crossing to the two-seater dining table. Like everything else in the apartment, it’s seen better days. Worn wood, scratched from years of use, but perfectly clean as I start pulling things out of my magickally extended bag.
“It’s a charm,” I explain as I take out a toiletry kit, a pair of sleep shorts, and a t-shirt. “One that makes it so I can fit more inside.”
“Clever,” Callum murmurs. He watches silently while I unpack, then nods to the door I spotted earlier. “The bathing chamber is through there if you’d like to freshen up.”