“So, you just…live forever?”
“That is a possibility.”
Several silent seconds tick by. If that’s all he has to say on the matter, I should let it go. It’s obviously not a subject he cares to expand on. At least not with me.
“Were you picking berries nearby? If you’re just getting started, I’d be happy to help. When I was young, I used to love going out to pick wild berries. I was attempting to recreate that feeling when I found Max in the woods beyond the boundary. Never did find any berries that day, but I found a new community and home, which I’m very happy about. And now that I know about this salmonberry patch, I plan to come out here every day and pick a bowlful.”
A slight shift in his position brings Amazra’s face into view. Maybe I’m sun blind, or maybe it’s wishful thinking, but I swearthe corners of his deep-red lips are curved upward. Not a full smile, but a hint of one.
“I am pleased the salmonberry patch brings you joy.”
Gasping and slapping a hand over my mouth, I scramble to my feet. “Is thisyourberry patch? Am I trespassing on your property? And stealing your crop?” I don’t wait for his answer before grabbing my pail and rushing forward to empty it into his larger bucket.
He halts the process by gripping the edge of my pail. The position puts his thick forearm a centimeter from my knuckles. A small shift of my hand and our skin would touch. Or I could let go of the pail, fake losing my balance, and sort of fall against him. A lot more touching.
“Lilah.” The deep timbre of his voice snaps my attention upward to his face. There’s no hint of a smile now. But his eyes glow brighter than I’ve ever seen.
“Your eyes look like actual flames.”
He inclines his head in a small nod. “I was created from hellfire. Though my form is solid, the fire is always there, inside me.”
“I look at your eyes every time I talk to you in the bakery, and I’ve never noticed the flames. Is it because I’m seeing them close up, or because of the lighting?”
“I could not say. I am unaccustomed to such close proximity, and spend most daylight hours inside the bakery.”
“But not Sundays because the bakery is closed.”
“That is correct,” he says, to what probably sounded like a general observation, but was actually me putting two plus two together, aloud.
Yesterday’s weather was equally perfect, and my day was equally open. Yet, when I talked to Holly yesterday morning, inquiring about community gardens inside the boundary, or better still, a pick-your-own farm, she didn’t tell me about thesalmonberry patch. This morning, though, she came knocking at my door, talking up the awesome wild salmonberry patch I had to check outtoday. She’d drawn a diagram to show me exactly where to find the bushes. Even if I hadn’t been excited for the opportunity, her enthusiasm would’ve gotten me.
Now I see yesterday’s omission and today’s hype session as clearly as the sky above. She set me up. That was some serious, best-friend-level manipulation. If only it would bear as much fruit as the salmonberry patch.
“I have collected all the berries I require for baking,” he says, drawing my attention to his bucket. It’s as full as mine, though three times the size.
“Oh, wow. When did you pick all those?”
“While you lay in the grass. Your eyes were closed when I came upon you.”
A snort escapes before I can attempt to contain it. “Sorry, weird hiccup,” I say, covering my mouth. There’s no hiding the heat flooding my face, though. No stopping it either. Not while I’m imagining Amazracomingupon me. I would definitely have my eyes open for that.
Clearing my throat, I stow the naughty thought in the save-for-later part of my mind, then take a step back. Whatever berry-picking meet-cute Holly envisioned, I’m sure it didn’t include Amazra quietly filling his bucket while I snoozed, completely unaware. Bummer doesn’t begin to describe it.
“I did not want to leave you unattended and vulnerable to predatory animals that might take advantage of your slumber.”
The thought of being gnawed on or pecked at while I sleep sends a bone-deep chill rippling through me. “Thanks for the nightmares I’ll probably have,” I say, glancing over my shoulder at the tree line, then up to the sky. Not a beastie or vulture in sight, yet another shiver rolls up my spine.
“You are safe while sleeping in your cabin.”
“True, but neither safety nor logic prevent nightmares from happening.”
There are no flames in his eyes now. In fact, they’re dimmer than I’ve ever seen.
“Did I say something to upset you?” I raise my free hand before he has the opportunity to answer. “I’m aware that demons don’t experience the range of emotions humans do, but youdohave them. I’ve only known you a couple of weeks and I see them.”
The strong ridge of his brow furrows. Further proof that my observation is accurate, because his stoic expression seldom shifts. “That is not possible. Even telepaths cannot see what is inside a hell demon. Upon arriving in Fate’s Falls, I made this request of the local physician, and it was confirmed that I am unreadable.”
“I didn’t realize Dr. Schaeffer was a telepath, so thank you for that heads-up before I see her for my first—” I catch myself before the wordtherapyslips out. “Appointment.”
