Chapter Seven
The Muffin and the Carrot
“Holy hell, you can’t just sneak up on people,” I said, hand flying to my chest. “I don’t care if this is your castle or not. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“Yet, there you stand, alive and well.” Onyx’s smile slanted. “Still here to whine about it.”
“I’m not whining,” I responded in a voice that… well, sounded a lot like a whine. Damn him. “How did you get in here so fast anyway? Two seconds ago, you were out there.” I pointed to the terrace beyond the window. “You have, like, superhuman speed.”
“Well, I’m not human, so why would I move like one?”
“I mean...” I shifted weight to my other foot. “That’s a fair statement, I guess. But still. You can’t just pop in like that. We humans have hearts that can stop at any moment.”
“We demons have hearts as well.” He crossed his arms. “Or do you truly think me heartless?”
“Depends on the day.” I bent to pick up the toast for the second time, sighing at the mess once again. “You’re wishy-washy. Stubborn too.”
“And you’re intoxicated.”
“Not anymore,” I mumbled before discarding the toast and then wetting a rag to clean the honey off the floor. “But talking to you right now makes me wish I was.”
“Ah, so you’re a sassy drunk.” Onyx drew closer to me. The golden glow of the light crystal flickered across his porcelain skin, bringing out warmer tones. It shimmered in his eyes too, like bright red rubies caught in a smoldering fire.
“Yeah, what of it?” I put my hands on my hips.
“I believe I erred when calling you a little bird.” His predatory gait had my stomach flip-flopping. If I was a bird, he was most definitely a jaguar. Once close enough, he lifted his hand to the side of my neck, caressing my skin with the pad of his thumb. “You’re much too feisty.”
“Birds can be feisty,” I told him, trying to ignore the wild fluttering of my heart as he touched me. “Careful or I’ll start pecking at you.”
His answering chuckle caused a dip in my stomach, like that feeling when you’re at the top of a roller coaster and start teetering over the edge for a sharp drop.
“You should do that more.” My snarky tone slipped into something softer as I looked at him, noting the slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes that accompanied his laugh.
“Do what?” he asked.
“Letting yourself express how you really feel. Instead of pretending to be a block of ice.”
“A block of ice?” His lips twitched.
“Sometimes you’re a volcano.” I scrutinized him. “Ice-cold one moment and scorching hot the next.”
There was a slight jump in his cheek, as though he were fighting hard not to smile. “If I’m a volcano, what does that make you?”
“A field of daisies,” I said, answering with the first thing that popped into my head. “Because I’m delightful and not stubborn and frustrating like you.”
“You are no daisy.” His expressions rarely gave insight to his thoughts, but in that moment, tenderness threaded through his crimson eyes. “You’re more like a field of red lilies. Beautiful, yet dangerous to all the poor souls who see them.”
Flustered by the intensity of his gaze—and trying to process his words—I looked toward the window. A wave of nausea swished around in my gut, and I slapped a hand to my churning belly, softly groaning. Hopefully I wasn’t about to blow chunks all over the kitchen.
“Are you feeling ill?” Onyx asked with such a level of concern it had me forgetting all about my stomach. It showed that beneath it all, he did care about me.
Or maybe that was wishful thinking.
“Kind of,” I responded, that earlier embarrassment of my drunken dinner shenanigans rearing its ugly head once more. “The ale isn’t sitting well. But I’ll be okay. Nothing some greasy food and carbs can’t fix.”
A subtle amusement surfaced in his eyes. “How unfortunate that you dropped your bread on the floor, then. I’m sure there’s a lesson to be learned from this about spying on others.”
“Spying?” I huffed. “That’s not what I was doing. I was hungry and came in here for a snack, then saw you standing on the terrace worshipping the moon or whatever you were doing out there this late.”
His lips twitched. “Worshipping the moon? I regret to say the truth isn’t nearly as exciting. I was simply… having a moment.”
“A moment,” I repeated dryly.
“I find solace in the moonlight.” Onyx’s expression, once amused, became pensive. Wistful. “As the world sleeps, it’s nice to stand outside and revel in the quiet. To reflect.”
“Reflect on what?”
A crease touched his brow. “Everything.”
“That’s not vague at all,” I mumbled. “You’re, like, three hundred years old. Your definition of ‘everything’ is more than most people’s.”
“Very well. Allow me to be more specific.” Onyx pressed closer and gripped the side of my neck, using his thumb to tilt my face to his. “I was thinking about a particularly bothersome little bird.”
“Oh?” Electric tingles shot through my veins. “What’s so bothersome about this little bird? Does he flutter around your personal space too much? Peck at your nerves with his little beak?”
“The fluttering and pecking are awfully vexing, I must say.” His gaze fell to my lips, and mine parted in response. “Yet, what frustrates me the most is how, despite all my attempts to do so, I cannot keep my distance from you.”
My throat went dry. “Then don’t.”
A shadow passed over his face, masking whatever emotion he didn’t want me to see. “I must.”
“Why?” My chest ached at the sudden wall he’d thrown up. Just when I thought we were making progress, he fortified the barrier around his heart. “Seriously, Onyx. What’s so bad about getting close to me? You’ve been inside me, for crying out loud.”
“Taking you to my bed was a mistake I will not make again,” he said without a lick of emotion.
“Being with me was a mistake?”
“Yes.” The shadow obscuring his expression faltered for a split second, revealing a rawness in his eyes. “A mistake and nothing more.”
I searched his face. “I don’t believe you.”
“When I took you to my bed, I only meant for it to be one night.” He averted his gaze and put distance between us. A distance that was both physical and emotional. “I see now that you’re incapable of that. You crave more than sex, and I have no desire for emotional attachments.”
A memory prickled at my brain: a conversation about the legend behind the red spider lily. To demons, the lily symbolized a fated mate.
“I see it for the curse it is,” Onyx had said. “When my mother died, my father became a shell of the person he once was. Her death destroyed him.”
I suspected it wasn’t a lack of desire that had him keeping a wall between us… but fear of falling in love and having that love torn away.
“Wanna know what I think?” I closed the gap he’d put between us. “All of this is an act. You do want more. You’re just scared.”
“Do tell, little bird.” Onyx backed me up against the counter, placing one hand on each side of me. Very reminiscent of our position on the balcony, caging me in. Heat brimmed in his ruby eyes. “What am I afraid of?”
“Me.” I swallowed hard. “You told me that I was dangerous. It’s because I’m your fated mate, isn’t it? Unlike everyone else that came before me, you can’t shove me away. Our bond won’t let you. That’s what scares you. Not being in control.”
His gaze hardened, those burning rubies losing all warmth and becoming ice-cold. “It appears you have it all figured out then.”
“I wish,” I dryly responded. “You once said I was like a puzzle, but I’m an easy one to solve compared to you and your thousand different pieces.”
He stared at me, saying nothing. His gaze lowered to my mouth as he traced my bottom lip with his thumb. There was an unsteadiness to his touch, as though he were fighting an internal battle.
“Onyx… talk to me, you insufferable demon.”
“Insufferable, am I?” Though subtle, a smile flirted on his lips before he pulled away from me and stepped over to the pantry.
His voice filtered out to me from inside, muffled as he searched for something on the shelves.
“I could say the same of you, Evan Clark. A pest since the day I first laid eyes on you.”
“Don’t full-name me,” I mumbled at him. “Makes it seem like I’m in trouble.”
“Perhaps you should be in trouble.” Onyx exited the pantry with a small bag of rice and carried it over to the sink. “For your lies and sneaking around. And for what you called me at dinner.”
“A butthead,” I said between my fingers as I covered my face with my hands, ashamed. “I wasn’t exactly wrong though. You’re not the friendliest person to be around sometimes.”
The edges of his eyes crinkled. “Then I suppose you should full-name me as well.”
“That would only be fair,” I responded with a light huff. “But I don’t know your full name.”
“Onyx Michaelis Ryu Blackstone,” he said as he measured out about a cup of rice and rinsed it beneath the running faucet. “Lord of Shadows and Ruler of the Realm.”
I blinked. “Quite the mouthful. But it sounds cool as hell. All regal and shit. Like something out of Game of Thrones.”
“Your manner of speech is odd.” He dropped the rinsed rice into a bowl, then retrieved a pot that hung from a rack along the wall and filled it with water, carrying it to the stove. “I feel as though I only understand half of what you say.”
“That’s about half more than what I can understand of you,” I countered, wondering what he was cooking so late. Everything about him was a freaking mystery.
Onyx’s gaze wandered back over to me. “I know little of your life prior to your arrival in Bremloc. My scouts reported to me on all happenings around the kingdom, and your name often came with those reports. News of this strange boy with golden hair and eyes like emeralds who appeared one day and began making quite the stir among the people. Yet, nothing before then.”
“I made quite the stir, huh?” I snorted. “Coffee gets everyone talking, I guess.”