“I’ll do some actual work if you promise to go out with me when we get an A.”
“Go out with you where?”
“There’s this restaurant downtown with terrible cocktails, cheesy music, and string lights. The acoustics are terrible, and it gets far too busy on the weekend. But the tables are close together. Very intimate. I can’t tell if you’d love it or hate it.” He shrugged as he started to pack his things away.
“But you want to take me anyway?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Iflung open the green door of my apartment before letting it slam shut behind me. I stumbled into the open space in a torrent of caffeine-fuelled energy and momentary adrenaline before letting my bag drop to the floor and sighing deeply. I used to think there was something so ritualistic about coming home. About stepping into a space that wasmine.Justmine.I used to love being greeted by the endless plants that spilled from pots and my assortment of trinkets that made my apartment feel truly lived in.
I was still adjusting to the fact that my space was no longer my own.
Butours.Although there wasn’t really a ‘we’in this scenario. There was me, and then there was Thallor.
I turned my head slowly. The way prey might behave when it found itself in the presence of a larger predator like a tiger or grizzly bear. Even though I’d been living with him for some time, my base instincts still kicked in when he was around. I’d come to realise that I had neither a fight nor flight response andinstead seemed to resort to the lesser-known option of subtle stillness.
The moment I turned my head, I was caught in the deep crimson of his eyes. I wasn’t sure what it was, some innate demon thing I couldn’t quite wrap my head around, but Thallor had a precise knack for always being able to meet my eye every time I turned toward him. It was like they sought me out. Seconds passed, and then what felt like minutes, but I was completely lost in his gaze. Where I’d felt fear before, I simply felt like settling next to a fireplace on a cold morning. It was intense, as it always had been, but there was a comfortability in it, too.
For a beat, I wondered if he felt the same way I did. I wondered if he also felt caught in the stalemate of uncertainty between us as we worked to find a sense of normalcy in our newly founded roommate status.
“Hi,” I squeaked, breaking our stare and tucking a loose curl behind my ear.
“Hello,” he replied, not taking his eyes off me. I could feel them. The heat of them as they bore into me. I knew there was no guidebook for cohabiting with a demon.The Malediction Codexstopped at summoning, and Thallor had been less than forthcoming on talking about himself in any real capacity. And whilst I could rationalise to some extent what to do in the company of another being, there were certainly no instructions for how to keep the butterflies from unfurling in my stomach every time he looked at me like that.
On the mahogany coffee table I’d thrifted before moving in, I noticed a single slice of toast on a plate. It had a thick smear of glistening red across its surface, mounds of raspberry clear from where I was standing. It had a solitary bite, but the rest had been left untouched. I’d made it my mission to try and figure out some of Thallor’s food preferences since the last time I’d goneshopping. Like I’d correctly anticipated, Thallor hadn’t been much of a fan of marmalade. He’d said it was too bitter and the aftertaste was all wrong. Raspberry, he could tolerate, but the pips got stuck in his teeth. Strawberry was by far his favourite (I’d worked it out by the weight of the jar) and replaced it the moment he’d finished it.
I noticed that the book I bought was now on the coffee table next to the sofa instead of on the counter where it had remained untouched for several days. I clung to that little victory, internally jumping up and down that I’d managed to do somethingright.
After taking off my shoes and changing into something more comfortable, a pair of lounge shorts and an oversized grey sweatshirt, I stalked into the kitchen for food, a distraction, or both. I stood mulling over what to have as Thallor turned the pages ofThe Don’s Daughteron the sofa behind me, whilst Mortimer lazed across his lap.Traitor.I didn’t expect much from the “olive branch.” I supposed a part of me had hoped he would keep me updated on the plot of the book, but he hadn’t. Opting to keep all manner of plot discussions and spicy chapters to himself.
“Are you…” I started, but the moment his eyes met mine again, my tongue stumbled over itself, unsure of its footing before tripping over completely. “Do you… Food. I am making dinner. Would you like me to make you something too?”
“I’m not sure what you do can be classed as cooking,” he said slowly, his gaze narrowed on the saucepan I’d just placed on the hob.
I couldn’t think of a witty comeback, so I simply scowled in response. Whilst I could absolutely appreciate that I lacked some universal life skills, making instant ramentechnicallyfell under the classification of cooking.
Cooking. Noun.The practice or skill of preparing food by mixing,combining, or heating up ingredients.So if I wanted to boil some water, plop an egg on top, and call it cooking, I was well within my rights. And the opinion of some hulking, broody demon wasn’t going to make me think otherwise.
“Fine, if you don’t want anything, all you had to do was say?—”
“Yes,” he replied before I could finish my sentence. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
I turned, whipping around in momentary shock. “You will?”
“Was your offer disingenuous? A way to placate me somehow.”
“No, yes, I mean… No. But yes, I will make you something too.” Two rounds of boiling water and four minutes of noodle stewing later, I clambered onto one of the breakfast bar stools and settled into my bowl of noodles, placing the other bowl opposite me. I hit play on my phone andBe My Babyby the Ronettes sounded out through the speakers.
Thallor settled onto the seat opposite me, looking nothing short of ridiculous, hunched over the thing at his height. “Thank you,” he said, trailing off before spooning a clump of noodles into his mouth. I’d opted to make him the pack adorned with obnoxiously large chili peppers and a comically uncomfortable-looking chicken with blaring red flames coming out of its ears.Do chickens even have ears?Either way, it was the only thing I could do to combat Thallor’s consistent complaints about how utterly flavourless human food was.
“How was your day?” I probed between mouthfuls as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
He shrugged, which I was coming to recognise as his sign of contentment. He rarely ever offered up more than a couple words here and there, unless of course, he was berating me for my inability to make wishes. “The cat left a dead rat on the balcony.”
“Ew, gross.” I turned and grumbled down at the black cat currently stretched out on the carpet a few feet away from us.
“I thought it was a nice gesture.”
