Damian held his elbow out and Archie hesitated for only a moment before looping his arm in. The demon tucked his arm back in, clasping Archie’s arm against his side. Archie had walked with his friends like this plenty of times, it was common enough between young men, but it felt different this time. More intimate. Damian was taller than him, his arm snug against Archie’s.
An uncomfortable realization hit Archie as they walked in silence. This, too, was a desire. Just one he hadn’t even known he’d had, a deep gaping need for comfort and intimacy that Damaris had exposed. He found himself drifting, turning his body in to press against Damaris’s. There was only a little bit of give to indicate that Damaris was not wholly corporeal, unnoticeable at all if Archie didn’t look directly at him, and he even emanated body heat.
“There, that’s better, pet,” said Damaris, and that was his voice now, not Earl Damian of Lymond’s. Rich, a smoky timbre that didn’t exist in human voices, the sound lingering against Archie’s skin.
There was much he wanted to say to Damaris, to question him about and demand answers for. But that would ruin this, whatever fragile shell of a moment this was. Archiesighed, willing the last of the night’s tension to leech out of him, and savored the silent walk back to his quarters.
The side of the palace Archie lived on was much more well-trodden since no doubt not many people were allowed in the areas the princes inhabited. As they walked closer, Archie became more mindful, straightening up again.
“I’m done,” said Damian, something rueful in his voice. Around the next corner, a door opened, loud voices of drunk nobles laughing distracting Archie for a moment. When he stepped around the corner, Damaris had vanished. Archie’s arm swung down to his side with no one holding him anymore. He missed a step, his balance thrown off for a moment.
Damaris?thought Archie as he turned around, searching. The group of drunk men passed him, laughing at his confusion.
Here. A whisper of a thought. The demon was back in Archie’s mind, a warm pressure in the part of his mind that Archie had come to think of as his. He felt it, the conscious lowering of Damaris’s shield, just enough for him to feel the sleepiness. It leaked into Archie’s own mind, inter-mingling with his exhaustion enough that the drowsiness felt almost overwhelming. He swayed, and staggered to lean against the wall.
And then Damaris pulled back. Archie pressed his cheek to the palace wall, the roughness of the stone scraping against his skin helping to wake him a little. If anyone were to walk by, they would probably think he was drunk beyond belief. He grunted, and pulled himself back upright. He was still tired,his muscles a loose numbness after hiding his nerves the whole evening, but he didn’t feel the need to curl up into a ball and sleep for a week right where he stood at least. The presence of Damaris stayed in his mind, but quiet and still, as if he had fallen asleep already.
Archie barely recalled the last few minutes’ walk back to his quarters, only that he dragged one foot in front of the other and tried not to look a disgrace whenever someone walked past. Someone helped him undress, because he felt hands wrestling his graceless arms out of his waistcoat, and then he collapsed face down onto his bed and drifted straight off. Gods, he must have left his doublet in the prince’s rooms.
When Archie woke the next morning, it felt as though the entire past evening was some kind of fever dream. If not for the awful crick in his neck where he’d passed out with his head pressed to one side. He groaned, and eased himself onto his back, thankful for the closed curtains. Somewhere to his side was a heap of blankets that he’d kicked off, and he pulled them over him for the comfort of soft fabric against his face.
He was, he realized suddenly,hungover. How embarrassing.
“Please gods, make it stop,” Archie said, aware that he was whining. He deserved to whine a little after last night, surely.
I am not a god, but if you ask nicely.Damaris’s voice was a low rumble as if he, too, had just awoken.
Archie opened his eyes, squinting up at the dim canopy. “You can make my pain go away? Even if it’s in my head?”
Not my preferred meal, but I can make do.Then came the most curious sensation, as if the demon had simply reached out and taken a bite out of Archie’s mind. Archie gasped, and suddenly did not feel as though a dagger was being stabbed through his temple. He still felt the strain in his neck, but the ache itself was gone. Fascinating. He wondered what implications that had on the idea that Damaris was a succubus. He would have to ponder that more, though perhaps later, when he wasn’t still covered in the sweat of the previous night.
“Thank you. That’s incredible, though I feel like I ought not abuse that power too much. Is demon drink always this strong?” asked Archie as he caught a whiff of his scent. Urgh, stale sweat.
Perhaps it is humans who are not very good at consuming food,Damaris said snidely.
One of the benefits of living in the palace was access to the palace baths. Archie had missed breakfast, simply slept straight through it, and nibbled cautiously on some bread and cheese as Nell gathered what he’d need for the baths. No averse reaction. It had been ages since he’d got this drunk, though part of it was in no longer having anyone to get drunk with.
He wasn’t expecting another answer, given Damaris’s recent tendency to only speak when it pleased him, but there was a thoughtful pause. A thought appeared not as words but as a picture in his mind. Archie understood it vaguely as the idea that alcohol affected humans so much because of the flesh their bodies were made of. Demons, being formed largely of magic and thought, had no such reactions. Everything needed to be much more intense to affect them, which neatly also explainedwhy Damaris couldn’t taste food or why the prince’s quarters were kept so hot.
You wanted a human body, you have to deal with the downsides, thought Archie with some private glee.
The palace baths were underground, cavernous and lit with magical light to give it the illusion of not being in a cave. The steam hung heavy in the air, the smell of the minerals of the natural hot spring mingling with perfumed oils. After getting thoroughly scrubbed off by a servant, Archie found an empty nook in one of the hot pools and nestled himself comfortably on a stair to gently poach himself.
It took him a while to realize that Damaris was making little rumbling approving noises.Like a cat, thought Archie to himself, and then found the thought so funny he thought it again at Damaris.
No hot springs in the demon realm, grumbled Damaris.
They hadn’t really engaged in such casual conversation before. Archie put it down to Damaris being exhausted after expending all his power on creating a corporeal form, but he’d take advantage of it for as long as it lasted. Mostly, Damaris’s responses seemed designed to get a rise out of him, metaphorically and also physically. In hindsight, that had probably been how Damaris had managed to regain so much of his demonic power so quickly. Every time he riled Archie up, he had been able to glut himself on it…
Even knowing that now, Archie couldn’t bring himself to mind. He’d been uncomfortable with the attention after denyinghimself for so long, but all of the pleasure had been, well, pleasurable. Very much so.
Is Damian what you really look like?asked Archie. He hadn’t made the leap in his mind from Damaris not having a body in the human realm to realizing that he likely had one in the demon realm he hadn’t been able to keep.
No.Amusement.Your preference.
It was a good thing Archie was already flushed from the heat of the hot spring. It was true, and he hadn’t let himself admit it, that Damian was made up of all the features he particularly found attractive in a man. Why would he? It wasn’t something he had ever considered being able to have. And even now, the idea that Damaris had molded himself into the ideal form for Archie was too much. He shied away from the emotional implications of that.
‘But you… like it? You’re not uncomfortable?’ Archie persisted.
