Chapter 3 Dreary Demon
DREARY DEMON
Davarox
“No one could say no to this,” Davarox mimicked under his breath as he splashed cold water on his face before grunting. “Well, you did.”
A humorless laugh left his lips.
Gods, he sounded bitter. Old. It matched the feeling of guilt churning in his gut just like it did every morning after. A temporary fix for the gaping hole in his chest that was shaped like his best friend.
Lazerath. Best friend only. Something Dav was reminded of daily but only really suffered after an idiotic courting ritual failed.
Like the blightspawn proposal that Laz had thought was a fucking display cake.
Why did Davarox keep trying when he knew this was how it would go?
The shock of cold water did nothing to soften his exhaustion, which he could see in his reflection. The sunken bags under his eyes, the sickly pallor to his skin, the stain of a bruise at his neck.
So fucking tired. But he had to remind himself that this was safer.
He couldn’t be the reason his best friend dreaded coming to work, or stopped spending time with him, or even faced half of the stigma that other demons gave Dav for his lack of magic.
The male had already been bullied enough in his lifetime, and Dav needed to protect him.
Friendship was all it could ever be, and that was better than getting his heart destroyed all at once.
At least bleeding out slowly meant he could still spend time around Lazerath’s warmth.
See Laz’s smile every day and know that he was responsible for some of them.
Protect the red demon’s dream of running a successful bakery.
Well, it was a bakery, and the barely-keeping-afloat success? A secret Davarox would take to his grave.
He slapped the shower wall as he passed on the way to his closet to wait out the water warming up. Selecting a button-down and pants that would suffice for the night out, he tossed them into a bag and threw his work clothes on the vanity before stepping into the shower.
At least it was hot, and Dav focused on the burn as he scrubbed himself and mentally prepared for the day.
Inventory had already been completed, and while everything lined up between receipts, something still didn’t feel right about the prices when Dav had last checked the books.
He’d stared at it for so long, costs and supply numbers had started to blur together, so Laz had pushed him into making caramels instead.
Those would need to be bagged and displayed, then he’d need to rearrange the sweets again so that eyes would be drawn to the puff pastry—their most profitable treat.
Gods, he needed a better way to manage his to-do list than a mental tally.
Granted, he had excellent memory. And an eye for aesthetics to appeal to customer desires.
And spatial awareness, which was a requirement when one worked alongside a demon who drifted wherever he pleased at the drop of a coin.
By the time he turned off the water, his skin was sufficiently smarting from his distracted scrubbing.
He squeezed the excess water from his shoulder-length hair before tying it back at his nape in a quick plait as he recalled the memory of Laz tugging on his first braid, telling him that it looked good.
Dav had spent the entire summer learning how to do it better, reveling in each compliment his best friend had given him.
Davarox trudged out into the early morning, mist crawling over his boots.
A few demons were out walking in the quiet peace before all of Heck woke and made their way to work.
A generally predictable morning, which would lead to a predictable day, followed by a predictable evening where Laz convinced an entire room of drunk demons into doing some elaborate dance he made up on the spot.
Dav unlocked the back door to Lovable Loaf, rolling his eyes but enjoying a soft smile every time he thought of the name.
Tossing his things in the back, he moved about the shop in his normal routine.
Swipe the rune for the hearth, scrub down any counters that were missed the previous night, reset the tables out front, then flicking the runes for the sconces set throughout the front.
Finally settled, he sat at the counter, dropped his leather pouch, and opened the lockbox. Coins were neatly arranged, and he confirmed everything was in order as he flipped through their ledger. With a few marks, he changed some numbers and pulled the appropriate amounts from his leather bag.
Dav muttered the math under his breath, calculating which order could be adjusted without drawing suspicion. He could add a mysterious order in between two lines, but then he’d need to eat those treats from the case. What was about to go stale?
“Aw, yes,” Laz cheered as he stepped through the back door. “Going-out braid!”
Dav jolted, dumping the rest of the coins from his pouch into the lockbox and hiding the evidence. “I don’t have a going-out braid.”
“You totally do,” Laz said, hanging his satchel on the coatrack and grabbing his apron.
“It’s that simple braid where you’re flirting with someone, run a finger along your temple to tuck a non-existent strand of hair back in place, but really you use your claw to pull it out.
Makes that slightly messy-but-still-sexy vibe work in your favor.
I’ve seen it many times when you find someone cute you want to take home with you. Very effective.”
Davarox stared, jaw slack, until Laz turned around and he snapped it shut.
“Whoa,” the red demon gasped, gaze focused on Dav’s lap. “We did that well yesterday?”
Dav blinked, then mentally cursed himself as he glanced down at the open lockbox. “Uh, tips. You got a big tip. I was going to sort it out for you.”
Not a lie, entirely. There had been quite a few throughout the day, though perhaps not in the sum that Davarox had dropped inside.
“I knew it.”
His heart stuttered. “Knew… what?”
Suddenly, his hands were clammy. Was his tail always thwacking the floor like this? Did he usually sit straighter or did he slouch? When had his claws come out?
Laz snapped his fingers, pointing to the coins. “It was Elder Zaretha. I knew she was flirting with me.”
Davarox let out his breath as slowly and quietly as possible. “Yup. She came up to the counter to watch you walk into the back.”
“I do have a great ass.”
Dav didn’t answer that one.
“Just leave it in,” Laz said, waving at the money. “Tips are half yours, anyway.”
“Laz—”
“Don’t argue with me over this again,” he scolded, leaning down to glare eye to eye. “You never leave the back, and demons are assholes.”
He wasn’t wrong, but this close, Dav had to hold back his temptation to breathe in. How fucking inappropriate, wanting to inhale the scent of his best friend so close to him. Even worse, if Laz lingered and his cock hardened enough to be visible beyond the lockbox set in his lap.
“Fine,” Dav grunted when Laz gave him an imploring look.
Satisfied, Lazerath grinned. “Great, now tell me what you think about this dance move for tonight.”
So the day went, entertaining Laz’s excitement for the evening and balancing baking and customers up until closing.
On the walk home, his friend rattled off half a dozen places they might go, arguing over the signature drink to demon ratios and which clubs had the best entertainment, and then for another half an hour as he tried on everything in his closet twice.
“Let’s go to Inferno,” Laz called from the depths.
“I did see a flyer for discounted drinks.”
There was a yelp and a crash, like Laz had tripped trying on pants. “You’re such a slut for a deal.”
Davarox chuckled where he lounged on his friend’s bed, shirt undone and none too bothered by the continued delay. This was Laz, after all, not to mention the demon was determined that tonight he was going to impress someone, so he must be impress-worthy.
“I like the art district,” Laz went on, no longer sounding like he was battling his legwear. “Oh, and last time we were there—”
“You got invited to three orgies, performed in Saffron Fire’s sequin dress, and woke up on a stranger’s rooftop.”
A wistful sigh came from the closet before Laz hung his upper half out of the doorway. “Don’t tell me you didn’t have a good time.”
“Did you?”
There was a moment of silence, and then a blur of red was falling into the bed next to him. Laz, shirtless, propped himself on his elbows, thick tail flicking in the air. “Not like we haven’t shared a female before then.”
“Twice.”
“You’re very picky.”
“So are demons about my lack of magic.”
Laz’s dark gaze narrowed. “Then they aren’t actually partner-worthy.”
“You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Come on. When was the last time you were interested in someone?”
He didn’t answer.
“Will you at least try to have fun?”
“I will have fun. Promise.”
The red demon grinned wide, fangs on display. “Great. And it’s even better if you find a demon to take home so you can relax a little bit. All that tension, you can find someone to help you release—”
Dav smacked him with a pillow. “Blazes, Laz, just tell me to find a demon to fuck.”
Laughing, his friend rolled off the bed and threw his hands over his ears. “No! My delicate sensibilities! How dare you utter such crude language in my presence.”
Laz disappeared into the closet again, Dav’s chuckle dying out as he shook his head. “Says the demon who graphically explained his experience with making a female squirt for the first time.”
“It was so hot, Dav.”
By the time Laz had settled on an outfit, Dav had abandoned the bedroom to make them dinner, and then they were headed to the art district under a starlit sky.
Demonlights along the street flickered in yellows and reds and blues.
Dav had long since stopped himself from staring too long at the latter, the only evidence of what could have been in the midnight blue of his hair and the cool tone of the flared fins at the tip of his tail.
What use was longing for some flicker of color in his skin?
Thirty-three years without magic and he’d gotten by just fine.
He glanced at his friend, a bounce in his step as he pointed out all the new repairs the shopkeepers along the street had done.
That. That’s what he would miss. Because one day, Lazerath would find a partner.
Move on in his life and build a family that was happy and adored by him.
He’d have little babies with magic who would grow up and visit their grumpy, lonely uncle less and less until one day Dav just withered away and no one would bother to notice until his stench became—
Two hands squished his cheeks, forcing his lips to pucker.
“No sads,” Laz scolded, face pinched in a frown. “You promised.”
Davarox failed to wiggle out of the red demon’s grip. “Fine, fine, I’m just getting it all out now.”
With a huff, Laz released him. “Come on. If anyone makes you feel unwelcome, you know Alighieran will kick them out.”
He’d witnessed it before. Now there was a massive sign installed by the owner of Inferno just above the bar.
A running tally of days since they had removed someone from the establishment.
And no one would dare upset them by resetting that number to zero, especially when Alighieran had ears in every corner to make sure their patrons were safe.
To no one’s surprise, that sign boasted one hundred and three days, which likely explained the discounted drink celebrations.
Which added to all the additional streamers and demonlights pulsating along the ceiling in a rainbow of colors.
They’d been charmed into a pattern, drawing the eye toward the stage where an early performance had just wrapped and glitter and confetti still drifted down to the raised platform.
Noise surged inside the building as the musicians picked up their instruments again, their tune wrapping around the walls with magic while the crowd resumed dancing.
“Oh, table next to demons we know!” Laz grabbed Dav’s sleeve and dragged him to a round bar table with three stools.
The red demon was immediately pulled into a conversation of what performance they had just missed, leaving Dav to clean his seat of glitter as best he could.
“I’m grabbing a drink,” Davarox said over the music, offering a stilted smile to a pink female who quickly apologized for shaking out her confetti-covered hair right where he was trying to walk.
Lazerath said over his shoulder, distractedly, “Yeah, I’ll meet you up there.”
But Davarox froze mid-step. Blinked to make sure the strobing flames and loud music hadn’t completely destroyed his senses.
Felt his tail fall limp.
Because there at the counter was something new.
Something fascinating.
Something human.
And for the second time in his life, Davarox heard the word scream into his mind.
Mine.