Chapter 9
Shawna
It seems almost surreal that I am sitting across the table from an actual demon.
If I had been told that I would meet a demon this winter, he is the last thing I would have expected.
Pale as snow and slender to the point of nearly being gaunt if not for his clear muscle definition, Jak has a fae prince aesthetic going for him, if skewed more steeply toward a bit unnaturally creepy with his fox-shaped face and sharply defined cheekbones—never mind the sharp teeth that fill his mouth.
And yet there is no denying that there is a certain beauty to him.
Even his ears are elegantly shaped with long, pointed tips that peek out from his thick mane of hair.
His horns throw off the look just a little, but with the way they curl back over the top of his head in nearly the same bone white color as his hair and colorless complexion, they give him an even more elegant appearance that is accentuated by the nearly perfect feline shape of his icy pale blue eyes.
He doesn’t seem quite real and I resist the urge to pinch myself.
How is this even possible? I mean, yeah, he is sitting right in front of me, but how is this even real?
I mean, this demon is half naked and sitting with his bare chest mesmerizing me from across the table.
And I refuse to acknowledge how distracting I find the little flicks of his tail beside him.
I can’t believe that this is my new reality when just a short time ago I was convinced that everything that happened last night was nothing more than a dream.
I had woken up convinced that the events of the previous day were just an incredible, but impossible, dream.
It wasn’t until I emerged from my room and saw the icy pale demon standing in front of the wood stove, wearing little more than a ruffled gingham red and green apron with little gingerbread men decorations printed on it, that I was quickly dispelled of that line of thinking.
It just feels a little odd, that is all.
And breakfast is strained because of it.
It is not because I feel particularly uncomfortable sitting with a demon now that I realize that it wasn’t all a dream.
It’s more that he is sitting directly across from me, his jaw cupped in one hand as his eyes follow my every bite.
I might have assumed it is just because he is hungry, but his plate and cup are left untouched and empty while he studies me.
It is like his eagerly watching me so that he doesn’t miss a single bite.
Is this what he did before when he was invisible?
Would it be bad manners to ask him to disappear again?
No, I can’t do that. He may never choose to show himself again, and I don’t think I would feel entirely at ease if he was hiding himself all the time, regardless of how nice and honest the demon appears to be.
And the nice demon seems very intent on watching me eat.
I stir my porridge with my spoon. Filling the spoon, I lift it toward my mouth. For some reason my gaze shifts back to the demon and I see that his eyes are still fastened on me, his head angled slightly as if trying to look up into my slightly down-turned face.
Yeah, this is not going to work.
Sighing, I return the spoon to the bowl and push the porridge away.
It is difficult to feel any real kind of appetite, especially when a demon is still something very new to get accustomed to.
Last night, while his appearance had taken some getting used to, at least he acted somewhat normally.
Now, however, said demon is staring at me with rapt interest while expecting me to eat normally. It is unnerving, to say the least.
Jak straightens, a look of concern pulling at his mouth and brow. “Is there something wrong with the porridge? Do you want something else?”
I shake my head and give him a small smile. “It’s not that. It’s just... are you not going to eat anything?”
He glances at his plate with a look of confusion. “Eat? Why would I eat? I have explained how things work. I am a frost demon and...”
Sighing, I sit back in my chair and look at him frankly. “Yes, yes, I know. You consume my... merriment. Do you really mean to tell me that you don’t eat anything else? Ever?”
He gives me a curious look and wrinkles his nose. He hesitates, however, as he considers his words.
“Does it disturb you?” he asks quietly.
I feel like a bit of a heel now, but I grimace and shrug in acknowledgement. “A little. It was different when you were just a disembodied ghost in my imagination. Having someone very... real... sitting across from me and staring at me while I eat is a bit unnerving.”
Jak’s lips twitch with amusement. “But this is what I always do.”
“Okay, but I was not aware of it,” I say pointedly, to which he has the good grace to chuckle wryly. The tension knotting my muscles eases at the sound of his self-deprecating laughter.
“Fair enough.” Sighing, he leans back in his chair as he casually regards me without his earlier intensity.
“To answer your question, it is not that I do not eat altogether, but during the winter my body is focused on one specific form of nourishment that it is difficult to enjoy feeding it in other ways,” he admits as he glances apathetically at the food on the table.
He gestures to a delectable dessert. “To you these are seasonal delicacies that conjure memories of happiness. To my palate, the flavor is dull and uninspiring. Truthfully, I cannot even taste it.”
My gaze drifts over the table, and I am admittedly a little horrified. He cannot taste any of this?
“Nothing?” I echo, and he shakes his head with a small smile.
“I only receive echoes of your own pleasure,” he replies.
I nibble on my bottom lip as my gaze roves over the spread of food. So, he can physically eat, but he lacks the desire... and it is no wonder if he is incapable of even tasting it.
“Can you taste anything during the other seasons?” I ask, and again he shakes his head.
“Eating is merely fueling our bodies with necessary energy. As our nature is cold, it typically burns through energy at a much slower rate, so we merely eat when we require it.”
That sounds sad as fuck. I am not typically one to judge the way others live, but to never receive pleasure from eating.
.. damn, it is no wonder that they look forward to their Yule feasts when they can directly enjoy what they are consuming for a change.
And it provides context as to why it can be a gateway for something far more terrible.
This weighs heavily on me, but I reluctantly draw the bowl back toward me and resume eating.
Somehow, I choke down a few bites of tasteless porridge before peeking at the demon’s face.
I try not to be affected by his reaction, but Jak’s disappointed frown at my lack of enjoyment and disinterest in trying any of the other foods is difficult to miss.
He nudges more food toward me, but I ignore it as I stand and go about my business.
Even so, this matter follows me throughout the day.
If is not Jak’s downcast looks of longing as he follows me through the cabin, or his lost expression as we stroll through the woods, then it is my own mind circling around the subject on repeat.
Truthfully, I feel bad for him because I cannot imagine waiting for such a simple and necessary pleasure on the chance that someone might be attracted to the cabin.
All because every flavor is through a host for their feast.
And... it gives me an idea. Although there is no getting around the fact that he requires the energetic value of his feast, there is no reason at all not to make the wait more enjoyable.
If I can give him this much, I would consider it a gift in exchange for everything he has given me.
.. even if it was all a baited trap. If nothing else, he did give me honesty in the end rather than treating me like his victim.
Surely that is worthy of some kind of reward.
When dinnertime comes, I approach the laden table with a small, excited bounce in my step before dropping down into my chair.
Jak looks over at me quizzically, but he says nothing as he once again takes the opposite chair, and once again his plate is left empty despite the feast spread between us.
I glance among the platters, looking for something tasty with which to carry out my experiment.
.. there! A pie. A very simple but fragrant apple pie.
The scent of baked apples and cinnamon teases my senses, triggering a memory of how perfect an apple pie is on a cold winter day with the hot filling and the spice of cinnamon warming me. This will do.
Grabbing two small dessert plates, I cut generous slices of the pie and plate them.
My mouth is watering already and I can feel Jak’s attention trained rapturously on me.
He isn’t even looking at the pie beyond a curious glance at the plates, but I am practically giddy with excitement as I set his plate in front of him.
It is only then that he glances down at the pie and actually sees it as I settle back into my own chair.
“Shawna—” he sighs, but I lift a finger, silencing him.
“Just play along for a moment,” I encourage.
He regards me for a moment and issues another long-suffering sigh.
Despite that, I am ridiculously grateful when he finally inclines his head in agreement.
His frustration and good humor despite it all make him seem almost human.
This is not a terrible demonic monster bent on mischief but a male tolerating whatever game his companion is determined to play.
I kind of like that about a man. It’s a pity that he isn’t human.
This is not exactly someone I can take home to suffer with me through one of Mom’s Christmas holidays.
For one, my mother would have a whole litter of kittens about a demon of any kind.