He levelled me with a glare. “Maybe not. By why risk it?”
“Because I can be just as much of an asshole as you when I want to be,” I retorted.
Thallor’s smirk was anything but humorous. Anything but friendly. “For me to be an asshole, I’d actually have to care about you in some capacity.”
I bristled, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks like he’d slapped me. “You didn’t sit on my candle, did you–”
“What?”
“–because you’ve definitely got something stuck up your ass today,” I hissed at him.
“Speak to me like that again and see what?—”
“Or what?” I laughed incredulously. “You’ll glare at me some more?”
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Thallor snarled back at me.
“Actually, yes,anywhereis better than here.” I marched over to the door, pulling my vintage twill bomber off the coat hook. “Feed Mort if he shows up.”
“Obviously, I’ll feed him. He’ll meow at me until I do,” he gruffed before taking a step away from the window and into the living room.
“Oh, excuse me for thinking you’re a prick to everyone,” I scoffed, placing my hand on my chest and feigning apology. “Glad to know it’s just me.”
“You sound bitter.”
I rolled my eyes, pulling open the door.
“When will you be back?”
“Why do you care?”
“I’m keen to make the most of my time whilst you are gone,” he chuckled, laughing to himself.
“I have a lecture this morning, and I’m going to the library this afternoon, don’t worry,” I snapped, taking a step before remembering, “I need to go to the grocery store because there’s no food in the fridge. All music to your ears, I’m sure.”
The only thing I could see past my own rage was how imposing Thallor looked as he smirked at me. Rippled muscles clenched tight, biceps bulging as he crossed his arms, veins visible across his forearms.
His smile was taunting. Infuriating.Beautiful.
God, I hate him.
I took a deep breath, trying to ease the anger that was gnawing at me from beneath my skin and the hurt that lingered somewhere deep within my chest. I’d done my best to be polite. I didn’t want my apartment to become a hostile environment. With everything else going on in my life, my home was the place I retreated to for comfort and familiarity.
Stumbling over my words as Thallor continued to glower at me, and letting out an exasperated sigh, I said, “Whilst it would bring me nothing but joy to let you starve to death, I need you for...For all this, so...Do demons have a favourite food or something?”
A quick, clipped laugh broke from him, catching him by surprise, as if he hadn’t intended to let it slip. “I don’t expect anything from you.”
“You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
As if for the first time seeing the stricken look written across my face, Thallor sighed himself, before conceding. “I’ll eat whatever.”
“Right, okay.” That made things a lot easier than I was thinking. For a full week, my mind had reeled at the logistics of him living with me. My mind seemed to get stuck on the ideathat he might have to eat people to sustain himself, and I hadn’t been able to get it out of my head since. “But if you had to choose?”
For a moment, Thallor just mulled over my question. I couldn’t tell if he was humouring me or just trying to find some semblance of preference in a long stream of memories that hadn’t been touched in a very long time. “Jam.”
“Jam?” I cocked my head to the side. “Like squished bits of fruit?”
“That is what jam is made from, yes.”
