Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Daemon
STOLEN GLANCE
Vhaena fought sleep. She tried as hard as she could to stay awake, and she gave her best effort to try to make me think she was asleep. With her eyes mostly closed, she watched me through narrow slits—presumably to see if I would doze off so she could get away.
She had sounded too eager earlier when she suggested I get some sleep, and too disappointed when I informed her that I wouldn’t be sleeping at all.
Well into the night, and long after the fire died out, she finally lost the battle against sleep. I was honestly surprised she lasted so long. I knew she was beyond exhausted, and she wasn’t fooling anyone with how the venom had weakened her, struggling with every step she took.
So many times I thought of striking up a conversation as we watched the darkness take over the island in silence. I wanted to talk to her—if only to break the quiet—but I had no idea what to say. And by the time I thought of something, she had fallen asleep.
I didn’t know why I couldn’t stop staring at her.
I didn’t mean to, and I tried to force my attention elsewhere.
But my eyes kept finding their way back to her sleeping form, watching her chest rise and fall with slow, steady breaths.
Something about it grounded me—knowing that she was still alive.
And every breath she took was just another reason I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
She looked peaceful for once, and I hoped it was partly due to her feeling safe with me, knowing deep down that I was protecting her from the real monsters.
I swore at one point I saw a slight curve to her mouth while she slept.
It was the barest tilt of her lips, and I found myself mesmerized by it, praying that her dreams were far better than this fucking nightmare we were stuck in.
My gaze dipped lower, to the few strands of hair clinging to her cheek.
Before I could stop it, my eyes trailed down farther along her delicate throat, remembering my mouth on her skin and my hands around her waist only hours ago.
My thoughts betrayed me, going to places they shouldn’t.
But as she lay there, soft and warm against the cold, unforgiving island, all I could think about was how much I wanted to touch her again…
I jerked my head to the side, ripping my gaze from her.
“Stop making me want her. It’s wrong,” I seethed at my demon. He had been fucking with my emotions all damn day, projecting what he felt onto me.
“I can assure you, I’m not doing anything. You want her all on your own,” he chuckled.
I clenched my jaw. He was wrong. I had refused myself those feelings a long time ago. I didn’t want her like that, not anymore. I couldn’t.
She was my best friend’s sister. She was fragile—human.
And wounded in ways I didn’t understand, though I wished she would have told me.
Yet, there was something in her that refused to break behind those walls she placed around herself; even when her life had shattered around her.
Maybe that was what drew me to her. Not her body—which still haunted me every time I closed my eyes—but the fierceness in her that remained despite everything else.
It was the bite in her voice when she lashed out, and the selfless way she threw herself between threats and those she cared about.
Regardless, I couldn’t afford to want her—I couldn’t risk wanting her.
Not when she didn’t know what I truly was.
I took a deep breath and forced the thoughts away before they lingered any longer. This wasn’t about me. This was about keeping my vow. Keeping her alive.
I watched over her all night, getting up a couple of times to stretch my legs and check the area, but still kept my eye on her.
I made sure that the last embers of the fire were out and threw the bones of the rabbit away from us.
I could still taste the meat she had cooked, how tender and flavorful it was.
Even with the bare minimum, in the middle of the forest on the Wal of Two Tears during the Hunt, she still somehow managed to make amazing food. And she had offered it to me.
She had barely eaten anything in days, and still offered a demon some of what little she had.
Although, offered was a generous term; she had practically shoved it in my face.
I should have known better than to refuse, but no matter how many times she had given me something to eat before, guilt still settled into my bones.
Two years ago
“Vhaena, wait up!” I called from across the street.
She was on her way to work, and I was just able to catch her before she started. I had been out of town with my father on a trip up north to Kilead, and we had just gotten back only an hour earlier.
Vhaena stopped and spun around, smiling when she spotted me jogging toward her.
“Hey, you’re back! How was it?” she asked when I approached.
“Uh, fine. Nothing too exciting.” There weren’t many things I could tell her about it, seeing as it was a trip for Umbra Ministry business—my father wanted me to be more involved, in the event I could one day take up a position within the Ministry.
Even though I had no interest in doing so. “I brought you a new spice I found.”
I held out the glass jar filled with threads of red spice and gave it to her.
“You know, you don’t have to do this every time you go somewhere.” But her wide grin told me otherwise. If it made her this happy, I did have to do it—I needed to see that smile.
“I just happened to stumble upon it and thought you might be interested in trying it out.”
“Lying isn’t good, you know?” my demon prodded.
“No one asked you.” So what if I had searched the entire city for the most exotic spice I could find with this exact purpose in mind?
“What is it?” she asked as she popped out the cork and took a whiff.
“It’s called viddeavil. I heard it can be used in a multitude of dishes.”
She leveled me with a pointed stare. “It looks expensive. How much was it?”
A lot.
“I don’t remember.” I shrugged. “It wasn’t too much.”
“You say that every time,” she said, blushing. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I nodded.
“I’ll come by later,” she said.
“You really don’t have—”
“I wasn’t asking, Daemon.” She walked away backward, biting her lower lip as she smiled. “I’ll see you tonight.”
And that was why I did this. It wasn’t just the smile, or the gratitude, or even the food. It was knowing I’d get to see her again.
“Sure thing.”
The scent hit me before I even opened the door—a complex aroma that was rich and earthy. The corner of my mouth lifted as I took a deep breath to gather myself, tempering my excitement before I opened the door. Vhaena marched right past me and headed straight to my kitchen.
I had just built the house. It sat on a piece of my parents’ property I had purchased from them, just like the plot that was reserved for Asher down the road a bit. My family had their own corner of the town.
The kitchen had everything anyone could ever need.
A large stove, multiple ovens, countertops and cabinets, and every piece of cookware anyone could think of.
Including specific items that Vhaena preferred.
Like a whisk she mentioned wanting once and her favorite kind of pots and pans.
Over time, I added more and more, creating a space here just for her.
I followed Vhaena through the door just as she set down a hot pot on the stone counter before she removed the mittens from her hands.
“I can’t wait for you to try this!”
I leaned against the doorframe, watching as she went to the cabinets and pulled out a plate and fork. This was so routine that she knew where everything was. It also helped that I asked for her “advice” when I was setting it up, putting everything exactly where she had recommended.
“I tried a few different things, using small quantities for experimenting, of course. The Spiced Chamber smells delicious, and I just know people will be asking me for whatever it is. But this recipe was truly perfect, and I just couldn’t wait to show you.
” She removed the lid from the pot, and steam billowed into the room.
I pushed off the wall and walked toward her just as she began plating the food. It was a rice dish with a creamy, vibrant yellow sauce resting on top.
“What is it?” I asked, sitting on the stool.
“It’s seasoned chicken on a bed of rice with sauce. I don’t have a name for it. Here, try it!” She scooped a bit onto the fork and held it out for me.
And here came the guilt. I had struggled with wanting an excuse to see her but didn’t actually want to take her food.
“You really should keep it for yourself. There’s no need to waste it on me.”
Her brows rose, and she leveled me with a stare like she always did when she thought I was being difficult. “You brought me spices from halfway across the world. It’s the least I can do. Now, no more arguing. You’re eating it.”
“I brought them because I know you enjoy them, not because I wanted you to feed me.”
“That’s too bad,” she said, pushing the fork toward me.
But I couldn’t look at it. As I opened my mouth, my eyes remained on hers, on the pure joy and delight glistening within them. She watched as I ate, like she always did. As if it meant something to her, the way I groaned at the flavor and nodded at how good it tasted.
“Vhaena…” I paused, savoring the last remnants on my tongue. “I have no words for how to describe the depth and quality of what you can create with a few ingredients. This is addictively delicious.”
Her entire face brightened like the sun breaking through a storm.
The corners of her mouth lifted, and her cheeks reddened, almost looking shy as if the praise had more of an effect on her than she thought it would.
She craved approval the way people craved air—the way I craved her presence. And I’d never deny it to her.
For the next year, I didn’t. We kept our routine, me making excuse after excuse to find her new spices to try just so I could have a reason to see her and that smile.
Until one day, my kitchen was silent. She refused the spice I offered, refused to even talk to me.
I had no idea what had changed, but I felt as empty as my kitchen was.
She never came back.