“I would prefer you did not. Knowing you enjoy these things which I have made with my hands is payment enough.”
Her gaze falls to my hands on the countertop, palms flat, fingers spread. I do not have to focus my senses to hear the beat of her pulse increase. Color rises on her cheeks. On the delicate column of her neck. The swell of her breasts above the neckline of her shirt.
“Well, thank you,” she says, not meeting my eyes while collecting the box. Or while turning away. Only when she reaches the door does she look back at me. “I meant what I said. About meaning what I say, and you know, the part about you being hot, even though it wasn’t the context when I originally said it. It applies. It always has.”
By the time I have sorted through the convoluted thread of hastily spoken phrases, the bakery door has closed, with Lilah on the other side and making her way down the street.
I prefer having these small moments alone with Lilah, but this would have been a good time to have Dauphine present.Though she is not human, she is female. And always ready to give an opinion. I rarely desire her commentary, but a female perspective would be helpful right now.
Because it sounded as though Lilah finds me physically appealing. And if that were true, I would bring her so much pleasure, she would lose her beautiful, soft voice from screaming my name. Then I would do it again, every day, for the rest of her life.
Ten
LILAH
“You are unusually reserved today,” Dr. Daemon says after Atlas, a literal giant, leaves the exam room with his tiny, four-month-old kitten.
“You’re basing ‘today’ off of one appointment? The clinic has only been open for thirty minutes. And I was not reserved. I was perfectly friendly. Fully professional.”
“Exactly my point. You are customarily warm, compassionate, and demonstrative. Yet you barely scratched behind the kitten’s ears. You did not once tell it that it is cute.”
He’s right, but I confess to nothing. My demon boss already has more confidence than any creature I’ve ever met. I’m not saying a word to inflate that horned head of his.
Drilling me with his patient but expectant stare, the large demon crosses his arms over his chest while leaning against the exam table.
“Scoot,” I say, shooing him away with one hand. “You’re in the way of my disinfecting.”
His deep rumble of amusement causes his broad chest to expand to the point of stretching his scrub shirt taut. The town veterinarian is widely appreciated by the females in Fate’s Falls. He’s considered a catch, even if a casual one, among the single crowd, and there’s no denying he’s attractive.
But he’s not the one for me. I only have eyes for one demon, for one man of any species.
Daemon moves as directed, but not before taking a whiff of me. It’s his thing. It weirded me out initially, but once I got used to it, to him, his sniffing habit became kind of handy. My menstrual cycle has always been unpredictable, but I haven’t been caught off guard by a period since working here. Is it strange to have your demon boss tell you exactly when Aunt Flo is due to arrive? Yep. But he’s never been wrong, and I’ve ruined less underwear because of it.
I don’t bother asking what his sniffer tells him about me. If he feels it’s worthy of note, he’ll tell me, whether I want to hear it or not. And there have plenty of times when his comments have fallen into thewould-rather-not-have-heardcategory.
“Have I ever told you that human emotional states produce distinct odors?”
“Odors?” I roll my eyes at him. “You couldn’t use a nicer word thanodors?”
“Humans. So sensitive. Odor, scent, aroma, fragrance, musk, bouquet?—”
“Yes, bouquet. From now on, whenever you do your sniff test on me, I would like you to refer to what you detect as mybouquet.”
“Ah, there you are, my spirited assistant. Welcome back. As for yourbouquetthis morning, it reeks of frustration.”
“Reeks,Daemon?” I shake my head while heading for the second door of the exam room, the one that leads to our treatment area rather than the waiting room. “I hope you fall inlove with a human woman one day, because she’ll slap you so hard if you use words like ‘odor’ and ‘reeks’ with her.”
“I quite enjoy being slapped.”
“Of course you do,” I say, shaking my head.
“And demons do not fall in love.”
This is hardly news to me, yet my stomach clenches, then plummets. I resist wrapping my arms around my middle, but maintaining an indifferent posture isn’t adequate to hide my internal reaction to the statement. Not around my boss and his heightened olfactory senses.
“Ah, now I understand,” he says. “Your sullen demeanor and frustration are in regard to the demon with whom you have been infatuated since your arrival in town.”
The urge to challenge him about the length of time I’ve been pining for Amazra is strong. I only resist because I know it’ll bite me in the ass. Damn Daemon’s demon senses to hell. Though I suppose that’s where he got them.
