Chapter 11 A Demon’s Secret
eleven
A Demon’s Secret
“Making friends?”
I jump and a little yelp comes out. I shouldn’t scream. I know who it is. But for some reason, my body is on edge. I whirl on the spot wielding a paint stick like a weapon. It is not a weapon, but I feel a little better holding something.
Rhazan stands in the doorway leading to the pantry, taking the whole thing up with his massive frame. His bulging forearm is pressed into the jamb on the left side, making his bicep look plump and powerful. Now my mouth is watering for a different reason.
“Jade?” Rhaz asks, his face taking on a hint of concern.
“Hmm?”
He takes a step forward, his smoky wings fluttering behind him. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, uh-huh.”
He stops a few feet from me, close enough I can feel the heat radiating off him. “Was that your friend?”
“Lacey, right. I guess so,” I say. “I just met her a few days ago. She’s pretty cool.”
He hums. “Is she going to be pliant about me drawing demonic shapes around the room in your paint?”
“Like, right now?”
He seesaws his head. “I was considering it. It’s been a long time since another human has seen me.”
Something worms in my gut and screams, “No, he’s mine! No one else can see him!” It’s silly, and stupid, and I shouldn’t even think about—
“You don’t want that,” he says, a smirk tugging on his lips.
Do I have a neon sign on my forehead? Am I astral projecting my thoughts into people’s brains?
He takes another step closer, and another, until he’s towering over me. “I can feel your heartbeat, the surge of uncertainty dancing with my magic, the potential for conflict. It’s…” He lifts his hand to my face, tracing my lower lip with his talon.
I shudder, wanting to suck his finger into my mouth and taste it. “It’s what?”
His eyes smolder like hot coals. “Enticing.”
Fuck.
I take a step back. “She’s going to be here with food soon, and I’m not sharing any of it with you, so you have to go. I’ll summon you when she’s gone.”
His fangs flash as he grins. “Don’t think you’re getting away with this bossy behavior for long, Firecracker.”
He goes up in flames, and I shriek. But the fire winks out just as quickly as it came, and he’s gone with it.
Damn, he’s so cool.
Lacey returns with a big bag about twenty minutes later.
I’ve finished washing all the brushes and tidying up so we can have a spot to sit.
We feast on toasted rolls loaded with shredded lobster meat and sauced with butter, mayo, lemon, and chives.
I’ve never eaten anything like it, and it’s breaking my brain.
The salty, crispy chips offset every bite of sweet lobster meat and sour lemon, making it the perfect meal.
She chats avidly about the best places to eat around town, or within thirty miles of town, and all the other spritely, giggly things in her head. I want to pay better attention, but I can’t get Rhazan off my mind.
When the last chip is in my belly, Lacey gets up and grabs her things. “Well, I better head home.”
“Wait, you’re going?” I ask.
She smiles gently. “I’m sorry to ditch you, but I’m pretty tired.”
I blow out a huff. “Yeah, me too.”
“I could tell,” she says.
“Really?”
She laughs. “You wolfed in silence with distant eyes. Pretty clear indicator.”
“Sorry. There’s just a lot going on. Ace’s first day of school—gotta get him in a few hours—plus Nai Nai hasn’t called.”
“You’re fine, and so are they.” She pats my shoulder. “I had fun, and it was an excuse to get lobster. Jamie hates it.”
“Okay, well, thanks again for everything. I owe you like thirty coffees,” I say.
“Better get myself a punch card,” she says.
We laugh, but that sparks my brain. I want to get loyalty member punch cards. I walk her to the door and wave her off, then run to my notepad to write it down before the thought evaporates.
“Inspiration?” Rhazan’s voice almost makes me jump, but I hold it in.
“I said I would summon you,” I grouse.
“I said your bossiness wouldn’t go unpunished,” he retorts.
Heat blooms in my chest and scurries all the way down to my core. “If you think I’ll just bend over your leg whenever you demand, you’re very wrong.”
A predatory grin spreads over his face and he approaches me.
My heart thuds loudly, body warming in all the best places.
His hand falls close to mine on the bar.
Strands of his black hair slip from his half bun as he looks down at me.
His eyes dart from my forehead down to my lips, then up to my eyes.
“You’re cute,” he murmurs.
I scrunch up my face, making it very ugly.
“Now you’re cuter,” he laughs, a deep rumbling thing that rivals the thundering of my heart. The sound is like a hot cup of tea on a rainy day, wrapped in a blanket. I crave it. I want more of it.
My face relaxes and I drink him in. His fangs poke into his crimson lip pulled tight by the smile that comes all the way up to his eyes, making the menacing blackness of them sparkle with warmth.
His smile fades and he leans in, like I’ve become the center of gravity.
“Are you ready to work, or do you want to brat?”
“I do not brat,” I declare, putting a hand on my hip.
“You are the epitome of brat,” he retorts.
And ooh, boy, do I want to keep bratting. The memory alone of that last punishment is enough to stoke my inner fire. But also, if he was telling the truth about the severity of the skreet problem, we should probably work.
I look around at the massive windows, then back to Rhazan. “Someone might see you.”
He nods. “We’ll start in the back, tie into the runes along the pantry doorway first. There’s only so much magic I can expend before I’ll need to…recharge.”
I arch an eyebrow. “What, are you a Roomba or something?”
He scowls. “I’m not sure what a dance has to do with needing my energy reserves filled.”
“Never mind,” I say, shaking my head. “How do you recharge?”
He leans away from me, throat rolling as he swallows. “We demons all have our ways.”
I stare at him a second longer, waiting for him to fill me in. He doesn’t. I growl and turn for the empty takeout bag, picking up our trash. I grab a bucket of black paint and a brush, then storm past him.
He follows silently, yet his presence is all-consuming. Why won’t he tell me? Why doesn’t he tell me anything? Why am I already so invested in this dude who’s done nothing but spank me and be a menace?
Heat envelops my arm, and he tugs me back, his grip firm but gentle. There’s agony in his pinched brow that makes me wait before unloading on him. I set the paint down and turn to face him.
“Pain,” he says, just above a whisper. “I get my power from pain.”
He holds my gaze and shows me all the shame inside him through his wounded eyes.
“What kind of pain?” I ask.
His jaw hardens and he looks away. “Mainly physical.”
I chew my lip. “Like my spanking.”
His chest glows brighter and his eyes snap to mine. “Yes.”
A shiver travels the length of my body at the thought of him feeding on my pain, growing stronger from it. Maybe this is a sick thought I shouldn’t be having, but I want him to spank me again.
I suppose I’ll have to act out to earn myself a punishment.
“And the things going on in the rooms behind your bar?” I ask.
“Mostly knockout brawls, some other things, no death or torture. All the pain is consensual.”
“And what about your pain? Does it fuel you, too?” I ask, taking a step closer.
He nods and reaches for the waist of his pants. I suck down a breath as he pulls his tucked shirt free and drags it up his abdomen.
Scars.
Everywhere.
They all glow with the same lava-like light from the inside.
The crackling marks on his arms and chest feel different to me now.
I touch his stomach. His skin is hard and thick under my fingers.
He’s like stone around the old wounds, as if his body changed.
I skirt the scars because just doing that feels like putting my hand on a hot kettle.
“I’m a monster,” he murmurs.
I look up at him, seeing through this rough facade for the first time. Of course a creature who feeds on pain would be an asshole—it’s his nature. And while I don’t understand the full extent of the rules of his magic, I believe him.
“You’re not,” I say. “There are a lot of people in this world who cause pain because they like to feel superior, because they’re afraid of what they are when they’re not on top.
“Are you afraid of what you’ll be without it?”
He nods. “I know what I’d be. I’ve seen it happen to my siblings. Those who refused their magical calls, they disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
A flame lights between us and takes the shape of Rhazan.
“This is me when I’m fueled.”
It fades, becoming dimmer and thinner.
“This is what happens when I deny myself the only thing that sustains my magic.”
The fiery Rhazan flickers and dies.
“And pain is the only thing?”
He releases his grip and takes a step back.
“You’re repulsed.”
“No! I’m just…curious.”
He takes a deep breath and lets it out. A resolve comes over his features and he tucks in his shirt. “We’re wasting time. My bar opens soon, and I need to be there.”
The rejection stings, and I think he can feel it. I’m not going to be here long-term anyway, so it doesn’t matter if this ifrit spills his guts to me.
I huff out a big sigh and put his woes far from my mind. Without another word, we get to work painting the pantry in runic designs to rival most occult temples. With any luck, it’ll keep us safe. And maybe that promise of safety will keep Rhazan far from me.
I’m not sure how much more of him I can withstand.