Her lips part briefly, then close and curve downward. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
“No, not in the literal sense. I meant it as, I’m sorry you lived that way, having to do whatever things you were created to do, which must have been horrible things if feeling pity for another would’ve been a hindrance.”
I have never revealed my purpose in the hell realm to a mortal. Lilah would recoil. There would be no more conversations. That is how it should be.
Tightness in my chest and throat, sensations that should not be physically possible, prevent me from divulging details that would undoubtedly send her away. “I am here now, and my duties are peaceful.”
No sooner have the words left my mouth, then a cacophony of metal against metal and tile erupts from the kitchen, followed by the familiar pained groan of my kitchen helper.
“I think you spoke too soon,” Lilah says, her momentary wide-eyed expression settling.
“I’ve got it! Everything’s under control!” Dauphine calls from the kitchen.
My desire to remain close to Lilah holds me in place, but my jaw clenches with every additional clatter in the adjoining room.
“I better go, so you can take care of that.” All signs of previous dismay are gone from her expression and posture. A hint of pink remains in her cheeks, and her eyes glitter like dark gems as she smiles up at me. “I’ll see you tomorrow, and I’ll think of you when I’m enjoying this later,” she says, gently shaking the bakery box in her hands while stepping back from the counter.
And I will think of her every minute until she returns.
Six
A few weeks later
LILAH
“Oh!” leaves my mouth when I open my eyes and find Amazra staring down at me, where I lie on the grass. “I must have nodded off,” I say as I push off the ground to a sitting position. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Two seconds before you awakened.”
I don’t have to ask if he’s being literal. Though Amazra and Daemon have very different personalities, working full time alongside a hell demon for a few weeks has given me a better understanding of their straightforward, fact-based nature.
Standing a couple of meters away, his posture is stone-still, except for the clenching of his fingers. Movement I might not have noticed if it hadn’t caused the bucket at his side to shift.
“Holly told me about a big patch of wild salmonberries, so I came out to collect a few. I got a bit carried away, obviously,” I say, motioning at my full-to-the-brim small plastic pail. “Then it was just so fresh and peaceful out here, I decided to lie in thegrass and enjoy the sky and the sun on my face for a while.” Reaching sideways, I tap my phone screen to check the time. “And apparently napped for over an hour. Are you out here to collect berries too?”
“I am. I did not mean to disturb you or encroach on your private time.”
“You aren’t. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
Most of the direct sunlight is blocked due to his position, meaning I don’t have to shield my eyes or squint to look up at him, but it also shadows his face. His glowing red eyes are the only discernible feature, and I feel the intensity of his gaze all the way to my core. My very tingly core.
Bringing my outstretched legs together and crossing one ankle over the other doesn’t snuff the sensation like I hoped. The pressure on my clit just makes me want more. A lot more. Thank god, and magic, the vibrator I bought at Lexi’s store never runs out of charge, because I have a feeling it’s getting a long workout when I get back to my cabin. Even that won’t truly satisfy me.
In my old life, I hardly ever got aroused, and I can count on my hands the number of times I had a quick, single, solo orgasm. Meeting Amazra was like flipping the switch on my libido. He’s the center of every waking masturbatory fantasy and every nightly erotic dream.
Though I haven’t asked, I assume my boss’s heightened sense of smell must be specific to whatever his previous demon duties were, not an “all demons” characteristic. Otherwise, Amazra would know I’m turned on right now. He’d know my arousal kicked in when I looked at him.
Convenient as it could be for Amazra to know how I feel about him without me ever having to blabber through a verbal admission, I’d be beyond embarrassed if he knew how he affects me but had zero interest in return.
Unfortunately, aside from his one comment that my form requires no alteration to be pleasing, he’s given no indication of seeing me as anything other than a customer and fellow townsperson. We’ve engaged in friendly conversation during my daily stops at the bakery, but it’s always brief and never personal. Not from his side, anyway. Not in the way I’d like it to be.
I need to redirect my thoughts. He might not be able to sniff out my attraction, but he has eyes. He’ll notice if I start shifting so that the seam of my pants is a makeshift sex toy against my clit.
“I should thank you for passing by, actually. If I hadn’t subconsciously sensed your presence, I might’ve slept all afternoon.” Patting my face, it’s warm but not sensitive. “Thanks to my dad’s side of the family, I rarely burn, but the sun seems brighter up here. Probably because of the altitude. I guess you don’t have to worry about things like that.”
“There is little that can harm a hell-born demon.”
