Chapter 4
Iprobably shouldn't have just poofed from Clara's house.
She's clearly going through something based on her attitude.
It was hard enough to let go of her when I fished her from behind the rinser—washing—machine.
It took everything in me not to snatch her away when she almost burned herself.
By the time she was leaning against the counter having a casual conversation, I knew I was in trouble.
I had to get out of there before I did something drastic.
Like throw her on the counter and bury my—
I suck in a sharp breath and blast into Dimitri's front room. I'm one of the few people he doesn't bar from entering his space. Usually I don't just waltz in like I own the place, but I'm in no mood to be nice. He's the reason I stuck around Clara's place. Him and his fucking fries.
He's nowhere to be found in the rest of the house. I shove open the door to his bedroom and find him sleeping. Fucker. I toss the container at his face, and he wakes with a string of curses.
“Special delivery,” I growl, then spin to go back to my own place.
“Where the fuck have you been? And how are these things still warm?” he calls after me, and I turn in the doorway.
“I just came from topside. You said bring you fries next time. Now fucking thank me.”
He stretches, his dark grey skin cracking open, revealing deep purple rivulets underneath.
I wonder what Clara would think if she met Dimitri.
After she stopped staring at him, he'd probably charm her within seventeen seconds.
I scowl at the thought, vowing to keep them separate.
Not that I'm going back to her place. I'll need to find a way to break the thread tying us together, which won't be easy.
“You've been gone for like three weeks. Ludo was about to send me after your ass. How long was it there?”
“Like an hour. Maybe.” I scrub my hands down my face, suppressing a groan. I'm exhausted. Between dealing with things here and being summoned by Clara, I need a break. I'm going to end up crashing before long and there won't be anything I can do about it.
Dimitri pushes upright and leans against his headboard. “Triton wanted us to help with the gauntlet. I told him it'd have to wait until you got back.”
“I'm not helping with the gauntlet. That shit is his area. It's his own damn fault he can't keep anyone around to work with the new demons coming in. Fucking asshole.”
He pops off the top of the container and the smell of what I assume to be cooked fries wafts through the air.
I can't deny they smell good. I've never had them, obviously.
From what Clara said, they seem to be a staple in the human world.
It wasn't even that I didn't know about potatoes.
They've been around longer than me and I’ve been around forever, which gives me more opportunities to forget much of the things I've learned.
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have a finite life like humans.
Even witches have the choice to extend their lives.
If they tie themselves to a demon, they could technically live forever.
Not that many take that option. Why I'm thinking about these things is beyond me. It's not like I want to keep Clara.
“Are you even listening?” Dimitri asks, cutting through my thoughts.
“Seeing as how you blather on more than Ludo, no. I'm not. I'm going to sleep before I get sucked back into paperwork or summoned again.”
He freezes, a fry halfway to his mouth. “You think your witch will pull you back? I thought she just needed the jar open?”
“And batteries changed in her smoke detector. And being saved from dying behind a human machine for soaking clothes. Next she's going to probably need me to clean the gutters.”
“How the hell is it you know what a fucking battery and a gutter is, but you didn't know fries?”
I shrug and my chest tightens. “She said the same thing. Which is your fault, by the way.”
“I asked for fries, didn't say where they needed to come from. It was your choice to ask your witchy girlfriend—”
“Enough,” I snap. “That's not what I was talking about. You taught me what twerking was. That was your fault.”
His eyes flash gold and a grin splits across his lips. “Tell me she twerked for you. No, no. Tell me you twerked.”
“No one was twerking.” Despite my protest, he doesn't look convinced. The image of Clara's legs wrapped in her tight pants, wiggling her ass in my face pops in my head. I swear I can still feel the softness of her flesh giving way under my grip.
“You want one of these? They're pretty good. Got a seasoning on them. Where's the dip?”
“What the fuck,” I breathe. “I'm going to bed before I pass out.”
He doesn't even look up from his potatoes, too busy doing a weird little jig as he eats.
I could walk to my room, but I doubt I'd make it.
I dissolve into my shadows and instant relief floods my muscles.
I didn't realize how tightly I was wound until I release a little bit of magic.
If I keep traveling between dimensions, my body will never regulate.
Not only will time cease to exist for me, but I'll be consumed by my shadows.
It's not a pretty way to go. Plus, I'll never truly be dead. Never at rest.
My room comes into view, and I slough off the excess energy trailing after me.
I collapse onto my bed, letting out a groan.
My thoughts empty and sleep licks at the corner of my mind.
A tug in my navel yanks me awake. There's no floating through nothingness, no time to acclimate, no opportunity to adjust.
When Clara's bedroom materializes, my legs give out and I end up in a heap on the floor.
My head swims and shadows billow around me.
I don't have it in me to get up. I roll onto my back and stare at her ceiling.
Patterns carved into the wood jump out at me and I count the swirls as I attempt to control my breathing.
A small ball of fluff lands on my chest, and sharp needles dig into my skin. A strangled cry leaves me as I bat it away. An annoyed meow echoes through the room and I groan, covering my face with my arm.
“A fucking cat?” I mumble.
“Omen? What are you doing here? And why are you on the floor?” Clara's voice soothes the jagged edges piercing into my head. Of course the cat ruins the moment by jumping on my chest once more. At least his claws stay sheathed this time.
“You summoned, little witch. You summon, I come.”
She snorts and I smirk as I peek at her from between my fingers. My mouth goes dry as I take her in. Mostly she's been in shirts and pants—normal clothes other people probably wouldn't give a second glance. She's definitely not wearing anything like that now.
“What's with the dress?” I wheeze as she snatches the cat from me. The move puts her cleavage almost in my face. I lick my lips, then press them together.
She straightens, cuddling the cat. “Oh, aren't you just the most adorable thing. You're a good little kitty, aren't you? Handsome boy.” She glances down at me. “Why are you on the floor?”
“Tripped over that damn cat.” I didn’t, but she doesn’t need to know that.
I shove to my feet and the fluffball with a squished face hisses at me. Resisting the urge to hiss back at it, I pull in a deep breath. I'm not about to admit I'm on the brink of passing out. My body sways and I squeeze my eyes shut.
She huffs, and I glance at her. It's almost painful to see her with her hair in waves, pulled back from her painted face. She's both gorgeous and unfamiliar, which doesn't make sense. We don't know each other. We're not friends, lovers, or anything other than random beings who were thrown together.
“Oh, don't be mad at him. Kitty Cat probably didn't mean it, did you?” She buries her nose into his fur and the cat has the audacity to purr. Little fucker.
“Sure he didn't. Why the summons? I'm no good with hair.”
She gives me a look, then sets the cat down. “I didn't summon you. It was just a slip of the tongue.”
I could slip my tongue into—
I stop the thought before it can fully form.
Between her innuendos and that dress, I'm sliding down a slippery slope.
I clear my throat and glance away to survey her bedroom.
It's less cluttered than the rest of her house.
Whereas plants take up most of the shelves and windowsills in her living room and kitchen, not to mention her summoning room, there's no greenery in here.
Every surface is covered in notebooks and paperbacks. Sketches of flowers plaster the colorful walls, and a string of small lights hangs from the ceiling. There's even a fireplace set across from her four-poster bed. The grate's cold and I channel the emptiness before I face her once more.
“What was the slip?” I growl, keeping my gaze on her eyes.
“Oh, um, well…” She blushes and lets out a nervous laugh. “I mixed up Omen with…” She mumbles something I can't make out, and I raise an eyebrow. She clears her throat. “Brandon.”
“Who the fuck is Brandon?” I blurt the question out before I can think better of it.
She laces her fingers together in front of her stomach. “Just someone I met at the coffee shop in town. He, uh, asked me out for coffee this afternoon. Actually, can you zip me up? I've been trying to reach it for the past ten minutes. Then my neighbor called and I got distracted.”
The last thing I want to do is help her get dressed up for a date.
Not to mention I'll be incredibly close to her while I do it.
I should walk away or disappear back to Hell.
I could finally pass the fuck out. Once I get some sleep, I'll be able to purge her from my mind.
She'll no longer haunt my dreams. She probably won't even summon me again.
Instead, I twirl my finger and a small smile flits across her lips.
She turns slowly and I swallow hard at the strip of exposed skin.
The fucking zipper almost reaches her ass.
I should use my shadows, let them brush against her instead of my fingers.
Then I’d only get an echo of sensation rather than my flesh on hers.
With how tired I am, I doubt I'll be able to direct them. They’d go rogue and I’d have to deal with the consequences.
Plus, the sensations will be so heightened right now, I'll have a hard time not throwing her on the bed—date be damned.
Gently, I grip the small piece of metal and tug it up.
My knuckle skims across her flesh and goosebumps scatter in its wake.
Her shoulders inch up, making it hard to pull the zipper all the way up.
There's a small loop at the top and I brush aside a few stray hairs from her neck to hook the seams together.
She glances back at me, swallowing hard while she forces a smile.
“Thank you,” she breathes.
I nod, not trusting my voice. This is bad. Very fucking bad.
She steps away and I shudder. By the time she slips on her shoes, which are way too high, I've pulled my emotionless mask back on. I wouldn't fool Dimitri, but Clara doesn't seem to catch it. The cat winds its way around my legs, meowing incessantly, and I scowl at him.
She bends, giving me an ample view of her cleavage once more. My mouth waters and I squeeze my eyes shut. A stabbing pain lances through my head and I wince. My heartbeat hammers in my chest, drums in my ears, and threatens to suffocate me.
“Mr. Handsome, you're such a good little kitty.” Clara's voice cuts through my panic and my breathing returns to normal. She doesn't even seem to have noticed I was on the brink of a magical meltdown.
“Why are you wearing that to a coffee shop?” I spit out, much harsher than I intended, and her head snaps up.
“Because I never get to wear dresses and this is one of the few I own. Now, I'm going to get going. Don't forget about Sunshine here.”
She wiggles her fingers at me. Whether she's mocking me or being genuine, I don't know and I shouldn't care.
The cat pads after her, then turns at the doorway and hisses.
Fucking cats. I wonder if he can sense my emotions—the ones I haven't fully settled.
Some familiars can do that, though I didn't realize Clara had one.
This fluffball seemed to have shown up out of nowhere.
I sigh as the sound of the front door closing echoes through the house. It takes everything in me not to go after her and tell her to stay here. I don't. Mostly because I don't have a death wish. I don't need someone in my life, especially not a witch.
I need to shut down any thoughts of taking things further with her now before it gets out of hand. Before I can't resist her any longer. If I keep reminding myself, maybe I’ll finally be free of this entanglement.
My head swims as I turn and call upon my magic to take me home.
Shadows billow around me, casting me in a thick darkness.
There's no pull in my stomach, no twisting of time, and no melding of dimensions.
My eyes roll back and I can feel my body fall in slow motion.
A softness engulfs me, and I have one thought before I pass out.
Fuck.