Chapter 7 #2
“You’re only doing that because you’re frustrated about our situation…
and because you’re a demon. He saw my name on the dating app and had been texting me for a couple weeks prior to our date, but he still got it wrong when we met.
When I corrected him, he basically blew me off and got it wrong again.
A guy should know a girl’s name when they’re out on a date. ”
She frowned as she picked up a wooden board and drew a large knife from the block, placing them in front of her.
“I’ve tried so many times to find a partner, and every try has ended the same.
It’s a real shitty feeling when someone who says they like you turns out to not be interested in you at all…
just in what you can do for them. My name wasn’t important enough for him to remember, but he went into that date expecting he was going to be rewarded for his time by getting laid. ”
Ember’s words resonated with Nyte far more deeply than he would’ve expected.
Yes, a man getting her name wrong was insignificant compared to what Nyte had suffered, but the core of it was the same.
The hurt, though far smaller, was the same.
The disappointment and pain of thinking there had been a more meaningful connection only to find out that it had all been superficial, that there’d been ulterior motives…
“Yes, it is a…shitty feeling.” Nyte paused for a moment. “What does it mean to get laid?”
She withdrew a tool from a drawer and began skinning the carrot. “To have sex.”
“Ah.” Everything always came back to that, didn’t it? No matter the people, no matter the realm.
“That date was last night, before I made my wish,” Ember said without looking at him. There was a crease between her dark brows, one that spoke of…pain. “I wished for love. The fated kind of love that only exists in stories.”
She wrinkled her nose, keeping her gaze focused on her task. “I guess Starling overheard me and, well… That’s what got us into this mess. A stupid, hopeful wish on a shooting star.”
Nyte frowned as he watched her. He didn’t want to feel this mortal’s sadness, didn’t want to empathize with her pain, but how could he stop himself from doing so?
“It wasn’t stupid,” he said softly.
Ember paused and looked up at him. There was vulnerability within the blue depths of her eyes as they searched his, a loneliness that echoed in the hollow cavern of Nyte’s chest. In that moment, he felt something between them, something solid and powerful, something real.
Something beyond the spell tethering them together.
She dropped her gaze, breaking that connection as she resumed peeling the carrot. “Maybe not.”
Despite his desire to continue staring into her lovely, entrancing eyes, these feelings were…raw, uncomfortable, and unsettling. His arms itched with the want to wrap around her in a tight embrace, to draw her against his chest and soothe her.
But that physical contact would’ve been too much. The temptation would’ve broken him.
He tore his gaze away from her and forced his legs into motion, exiting the kitchen and leaving her to her work.
It didn’t help that her scent was everywhere, but at least he wasn’t looking at her now, and examining her home would prevent him from recalling her naked form as he’d spied it in the mirror this morning…
Nyte clenched his fists against the craving to touch her, to explore her soft, curvy body, to feel it against his own.
His tail flicked excitedly behind him.
Gritting his teeth, he caught the blasted thing, tempted to rip the appendage off. It would be much easier to simply will it out of existence, but that wouldn’t have quite the visceral impact he needed to distract himself.
He heard the water come on in the kitchen as he entered the drawing room.
Only after having been outside and seen some of the city could he recognize the age on display here.
Ember’s home didn’t seem to fit with the other modernities he’d witnessed today.
Where they weren’t covered by the large, patterned rug, the floorboards were slightly warped and bore a warm patina, suggesting many generations of humans had walked upon them.
The green wallpaper, with its gold leaf patterns, was faded, peeling at the seams in some places and bubbling in others.
As Ember’s knife clacked against the board with a steady rhythm, Nyte moved to the green settee positioned near the middle of the room.
It was thicker and plusher than those he’d seen before, with far more cushion and no visible wood.
He brushed his fingers across the back of it.
The fabric was textured but surprisingly soft.
The settee faced a stand upon which stood a wide black object that looked very much like Ember’s cellphone when it was dark, only manyfold larger. Another artifact for communication, mayhap?
He moved to the black box and tentatively tapped its glassy surface. The sound it made was very much not like glass—and nothing happened. There was no light, no images, no text. Simply blackness.
Lowering his brows, he tapped it again, a little harder this time. The whole thing wobbled.
Eyes widening, he grasped the edges of its narrow frame with both hands, looking toward the kitchen as he steadied the object.
Something sizzled on the other side of the doorway. Several seconds passed, and Ember didn’t appear.
Letting out a breath, Nyte carefully released the large device, backed away from it, and went to the fireplace.
At least that was a familiar thing. Its header, trim, and pillars were decorated with flowing, elaborate carvings that looked to have been painted over a few times too many, robbing them of some of the depth they must once have had.
The bricks backing the firebox were dark with untold years of soot.
Above the mantel stood a large mirror with an intricately carved wood frame.
He studied his reflection against the backdrop of the drawing room. However old this house was, Nyte was far older…and he was a thing that did not belong in this world. He was out of place here.
Wasn’t he?
His gaze shifted to the reflected settee. Could he see himself sitting there with Ember, chatting? Could he see them there, wrapped in one another’s arms, with a fire crackling in the hearth?
Could he find fulfillment and belonging in the trappings of a mortal life?
The pile of boxes against one of the walls caught his attention, and he strode to them. Most had the words LIVING ROOM written on their sides in black ink.
Nyte lifted a flap on the top one and looked inside. It contained framed paintings, though their realism and clarity were far beyond anything he’d seen from any painter, like actual moments of time had been plucked from reality and frozen on canvas. He picked up the top painting.
It depicted two young human boys and a girl posing in front of a large, green metal conveyance that only resembled the cars he’d seen outside because of the wheels attached to it. A golden field of wheat stood behind the children.
He recognized Ember by the bright blue of her eyes, though her hair was fully black rather than silver. This was her as a child, and he could only assume the boys were her brothers based on their resemblance.
The sizzling sounds persisted in the kitchen, and aromas drifted to him. He recognized those of cooking garlic and meat, accompanied by something sweet and fragrant.
He set down the first painting and picked up another.
It was one of Ember and another woman. The two were leaning into one another in a partial embrace, their smiles wide and bright.
The other woman was shorter than Ember, with long red hair, pale skin, dark brown eyes, and red-painted lips.
She wore a black gown with lace sleeves and a black veil in her hair, and she was clutching a bouquet of red roses.
But it was Ember who captivated Nyte. Her hair was black, cascading over her shoulders in soft curls.
She wore a sleeveless red corset dress that cradled her large breasts and cinched at her waist before flowing over her flaring hips.
Beautiful was not adequate enough a word to describe her.
A soft giggle came from over Nyte’s left shoulder. “I think you like her.”
His muscles tensed, but he caught himself before squeezing the frame too tightly, returning it to its place with deliberate care. “Relative to how much I like you at the moment, yes, I quite like this witch.”
Starling flitted to his front, her lips spread in a sharp-toothed smile. “Ha! I knew it, because I know you adore me.”
He dragged his tongue across the front of his teeth. “I’ll not allow your intentional misconstruing of my words to get under my skin, sprite.”
“Oh, do not be so stubborn, Nyte.” She flew closer and tapped the tip of his nose. “If you would let go of your distrust and anguish, you would see that Ember could warm that cold heart of yours.”
She waggled her brow. “And your bed.”
Growling, Nyte shooed the sprite away with a wave of his hand.
Starling laughed and flew out of his reach. “There is nothing wrong with enjoying the fruits of the flesh.”
Sex.
It had once been foreign to him. He’d watched others copulate, had even been intrigued by the act—there was something primal about it, something gritty and passionate, something real in a way little else seemed to be.
But he’d never experienced it himself, had never felt the urge to do so, not until…
her. Until Sarnessa. She’d changed him. She’d awoken something within him, made him crave, made him need.
And then she’d left him cold and hollow.
He had no want to experience that icy emptiness again.
But with Ember, that carnal desire had rekindled. Hells, it had been stoked into a damned inferno. He could only imagine the intensity of the cold snap that would follow.
Nyte glared at Starling. “Have you not meddled enough in my affairs, sprite?”