Epilogue
Sofia has a place in town now, and when I come to visit, I stay with her. Whenever I offer to put us up at the resort, she turns me down and insists on her place. I like it when she’s insistent. So, I offer her the resort every time.
But today, there’s something else I want to offer her.
We’re walking down the sidewalk, coming up on what would have been her restaurant, each of us carrying a bag of groceries. For the first few months, whenever I visited, we would detour to avoid this block, but now, no detour. I haven’t asked, but I think she makes a point of walking past it every day even though it’s out of the way to get to the mom-and-pop diner she’s managing.
I grab her hand and pull us to a stop. “I’d like to open it with you,” I say, turning to look into the windows. The space has been vacant for a year. No one has taken over the lease.
She grimaces, but then quickly laughs. “Aww, que chulo. That”s sweet, but you don’t gamble, remember? Especially on a restaurant.” Her voice is light and teasing. She does that. She pretends like I’m joking when she doesn’t want to have a serious conversation.
“It doesn’t feel like a gamble,” I say. I’m already invested in this woman up to my teeth. Not financially, of course. She hasn’t opened that door yet, but in every other way, with everything else I have to give. So, why not my wallet too? Maybe she’s right. Maybe it is a gamble, and if I lose, I’ll lose big. But so be it. I’ve already pushed my stack of chips out to the middle of the table. I’m all in.
“You should try thinking about it with your head and not your heart and you might feel differently,” she says, still teasing.
“I want to do this,” I insist, but she’s already shaking her head.
“Winter Bliss is too small to support a restaurant like this,” she says, nodding her chin to the empty glass front.
“What makes you say that?”
“There was a feasibility study done,” she says vaguely, and I’m guessing by the way her face pinches, she’s avoiding mentioning Ryan. I’ve done my own very thorough homework, however, and I disagree. The realtor is overcharging for the square footage, but his hardline cracks a little more each time we talk. He’ll come down. At a reduced rent, Winter Bliss could support the restaurant as long as the establishment ran twenty-four-hour service during peak tourist seasons. But I don’t argue because there’s another calculation I didn’t think to make until now.
“Then open it in Chicago,” I say.
“I don’t live in Chicago.”
“But I do.”
She turns to look at me with one eyebrow raised. My heart skips in my chest. I’ve missed her face. I’ve missed her voice. I’ve missed everything about her, and every time I look at her, all I can think of is how hard it’s going to be to leave her again. I don’t know how many more times I can do this.
“Haven’t you ever heard the saying ‘you shouldn’t mix business with pleasure’?”
“Who says that?” I snort.
“Everyone. It’s a saying.”
“Not demons. A demon would never say anything so obtuse.” I shake my head and snort again. “How could anyone separate business and pleasure? Business is pleasure. It’s a dumb saying.”
“You’re missing the point.” She bumps me with her elbow.
“Enlighten me.”
“If you have a personal relationship with someone and you add a business relationship, it doubles your risk. If either relationship goes south, they both do.”
“Well, I don’t feel the same way about risk as I used to,” I say, hefting the grocery bag in a shrug. “And you’d like Chicago.” I squeeze her hand. Her palm in mine fits like it belongs there.
“But would Chicago like me?” She asks and squeezes back.
“Oh, yes. I’m certain.”
She laughs, but I’m not joking. There’s a large demon enclave in Chicago, too, and a fire restaurant would be very popular, as would the salty, sexy chef who cooks like a she-devil trying to steal your soul. Not that I’ve done the research, not yet, but I will. I’ll bring in outside experts to build a rock-solid case to convince her if I have to.
She tugs at my hand and starts us walking down the sidewalk.
“I thought you were in town to reopen negotiations with that mysterious partner of yours,” she says. She likes referring to him as my ‘mysterious partner’ because I won’t tell her his name. Why would I? She doesn’t need to know, especially now, because—
“I’ve moved on,” I say. We got past the upon-death clause. He finally dropped it, but even without it, a year is too long for a deal like that to sit on a shelf. It soured. I’ve invested in a few smaller opportunities instead, which leaves me with a sizeable chunk to play with. “And you should too.”
“But I love Winter Bliss.” I know she means it. I’ve come to love it, too, and not just because of her. I have friends here.
“We’ll visit. You can keep your apartment, and we’ll come back for the Truthfire Festival and any other time you want.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” She says as she digs for her keys in her pocket and unlocks the door.
“I am.”
She’s quiet as she unpacks our groceries on the small kitchen island, and I can tell she’s considering it. I grab a set of bowls and arrange them in size order. She drops produce into them, garlic, onions, tomatoes, peppers.
She pulls out a pan and a cutting board. I retrieve her knife roll and place it on the counter a second before she reaches for it. She starts chopping. “I can’t afford two apartments,” she says. It’s a practical observation, not a ‘no.’ Hope leaps like a flame in my chest.
“You’d live with me in Chicago, and I can pay the rent on this place—” I say, but she starts to protest, “just until you start drawing a salary from the restaurant. Then you can take it back.”
She purses her lips for a moment before she tilts her head and turns to the stove, lighting a burner. It’s electric. No flame. I miss the cabin and the brick hearth, but not nearly as much as Sofia does. She never mentions it. She doesn’t have to. This kitchen is at best half the size, far too small for a woman of her talents.
She pulls out a stone mortar and pestle and pounds ingredients into a thick paste which goes directly into a pot. As she continues cooking, I take the empty mortar, wash it and put it away, then clear the island and wipe it down until everything is back in its place, clean and tidy.
She’s still thinking. My heart stutters nervously every time she looks my way. I’ve essentially asked her to move in with me. I didn’t plan on it, but it’s what I’ve done, and now there’s no doubt in my mind that it’s exactly what I want. Even more than the restaurant, I want Sofia in my life. I don’t know what I’ll do if she says no.
Sweet Mother Below, let her say yes.
“I’m over the French menu. I’ve been experimenting with some of my grandmother’s recipes. I’m developing a Latin fusion menu,” she says.
“Is that what we’re having tonight?” I ask with an eager grin.
“It is,” she smiles over her shoulder at me.
“And that’s what you want for our restaurant menu?”
She hesitates, but then she nods. “It is.” That’s a yes! My chest expands and a grin spreads wide over my face, accompanied by a familiar tug in my pants.
“Sofia.” I roll her name over my tongue as I walk around the counter, closing in on her.
She turns to face me. Her breath quickens, and I get the first faint hint of excitement in the air. So tasty.
“Turn off the stove,” I say in a low growl against her ear. I want to rip her clothes off and lay her out on this tiny island so that I can devour every inch of her. She’s mine.
“I can’t. It has to simmer to develop a silky texture. If I cut the heat, it’ll be ruined.” Her eyes crinkle with worry even as her tongue darts out, wetting her lips.
My hands come to rest on her cheeks, cupping her face. My fingers curl into her hair as my thumb brushes the soft pout of her lower lip. “The perfect texture is a thing of beauty,” I murmur just before dipping my head. My lips press lightly to hers, and she makes a soft little noise as I pull back.
“It is,” she agrees with a trembling sigh. “I’ll turn it to low and put on the lid.” She turns back to the stove, and the moment she’s accomplished her task, I snatch her up and throw her over my shoulder. She squeals and giggles, and at the sound of her delightful noises, I grow even harder.
“Island or bed?” I ask. I know which I want.
“Island,” she says. “But first—” she trails off, and I know what she’s asking for. She wants up on my shoulders to ride my face while holding onto my horns. I’m only too willing to oblige, but I can’t pass up this opportunity to get something for myself.
“What are you offering in exchange?” I ask as I lay her down on the island and start unbuttoning her pants.
“What do you want?” she asks as she lifts her hips for me.
“That’s not how this works,” I say as I tug her pants down and off. I spread her bare legs to stand between them. “Make me an offer.”?I tug at the bottom of her shirt. She sits up, and I pull it over her head. I suck in a sharp breath through my teeth as I take her in, a wonder and a beauty. I run my fingers along her side where my firemark used to be. It’s faded away completely.
“My body,” she says, briefly biting her lip. “You can have it if you mark me again.”
“I don’t know how I did it the first time,” I say, but I like the idea of trying. We’d struck a devil’s bargain. She’d been panting with desperation, and I’d taken advantage of the situation. If it wasn’t a fluke, let’s see if I can do it again.
I reach behind her and release the clasp of her bra. It falls forward, and she whips it off and tosses it aside. I groan at the glorious sight of her round breasts and saluting nipples. I am happy beyond words to see them.
“Hello, friends,” I say, saluting back. She laughs and starts to cover herself. “No.” I swat her hands aside. “They like me. And I like them.” I lean over and suck one into my mouth. She gasps. I suck harder, and she groans and squirms in her seat. I will work each and every one of her buttons until she’s writhing and begging for more.
“Sofia, be still,” I tell her. It’s a tease because I know she can’t. I move to her other nipple and suck it just as hard. She wriggles. “Don’t move, be very still.” I knead one breast and nip at the round of the other. Her hips roll towards me, and a tremble runs through her.
“Lay back,” I tell her. She does, and I slide her panties down. They fall to the floor. She’s naked. I drink her in for a moment, running my hands over her, down her neck, over her breasts and stomach, until I grab her thighs and throw them over my shoulders. “Grab on.”
“Take off your clothes,” she insists in that steely voice of hers, and I’m rock hard. Fuck, I’ve missed her. I strip quickly and return to her. I feel her grab onto my horns, and I hoist her up. She’s panting already even before my mouth makes contact. I give her a little suck and then a light lick. She starts rocking, ready to ride, but with a firm grip, I hold her still. I continue my soft licks and give her a few little nuzzles. She tries to pump up and down, but I won’t let her. She’s not desperate enough yet. I prod my tongue at her entrance, but I don’t sink in, even when she grinds against my face.
“More,” she pleads. I lick from her entrance up to her nub, long and slow, but light. No pressure. And I do it over and over. She groans but mostly in frustration, pulling at my horns and pressing herself against my face. I stretch one hand further around and glide a finger, feather-light, up and down her crack as I continue the slow, soft licks.
“Samite, please.” She’s starting to beg. She’s almost as desperate as she was that night. Almost. I prod at her entrance with my tongue and tap at her pucker with a finger, a rhythmic pulsing at each door, but no entry. I hold back. A shudder runs through her body, and her heels press into my back. “More, I need more. Please!” That’s what I want to hear.
“Say you’re mine.”
“Yes! My body, you can have it.” I feel her vigorous nod.
“Not just your body. All of you, Sofia. You’re mine. Say it.”
“What does that mean?” She asks.
“I’m going to make you come screaming my name, and from that moment on, you belong to me. Deal?”
“Deal,” she rocks her hips against my chin. It’s as good as a handshake in my book.
I grab her ass, lifting her another few inches. I sink my tongue into her, and she groans. I start to thrust in and out, nuzzling my nose firmly against her nub between thrusts, and her breath comes faster.
At her back entrance, I work a finger a little way into her, just until I’m a knuckle deep and can feel the tremor run through her legs. I keep thrusting with my tongue as I draw back my hand to slap her bare ass. She cries out, and the taste of her excitement floods the air.
I slap her again, making a loud clap that I know has to sting before I wiggle my finger back inside her. Pressing my lips firmly around her nub, I suck. She kicks my back and screams as she comes, louder than she’s ever come before. And it’s my name she screams.
Fire magic tingles across both palms, the one groping her ass and the other holding her waist.
She’s mine.