For the first time in all the winters I have existed, I do not feel the clawing hunger but feel utterly satisfied and warm as if I have indulged in several exquisite sips from the feast. Is this contentment? Is this what joy feels like? Whatever it is, it does not quickly fade but accompanies me into the evening as I settle onto the sheepskin rug in front of the fire to listen to her read. Her voice is warm to my ears, though it is forced to compete with the echo of my heart pounding in my chest. I place a hand absently over it, savoring the feeling with wonder as I focus on every word falling from her lips. Instinctively, I know that she will take this with her too when she leaves.
Chapter 9
Shawna
It seems almost surreal that I am sitting across the table from an actual demon. If I had been told that I would meet a demon this winter, he is the last thing I would have expected. Pale as snow and slender to the point of nearly being gaunt if not for his clear muscle definition, Jak has a fae prince aesthetic going for him, if skewed more steeply toward a bit unnaturally creepy with his fox-shaped face and sharply defined cheekbones—never mind the sharp teeth that fill his mouth.
And yet there is no denying that there is a certain beauty to him. Even his ears are elegantly shaped with long, pointed tips that peek out from his thick mane of hair. His horns throw off the look just a little, but with the way they curl back over the top of his head in nearly the same bone white color as his hair and colorless complexion, they give him an even more elegant appearance that is accentuated by the nearly perfect feline shape of his icy pale blue eyes. He doesn’t seem quite real and I resist the urge to pinch myself.
How is this even possible? I mean, yeah, he is sitting right in front of me, but how is this even real? I mean, this demon is half naked and sitting with his bare chest mesmerizing me from across the table. And I refuse to acknowledge how distracting I find the little flicks of his tail beside him. I can’t believe that this is my new reality when just a short time ago I was convinced thateverything that happened last night was nothing more than a dream. I had woken up convinced that the events of the previous day were just an incredible, but impossible, dream.
It wasn’t until I emerged from my room and saw the icy pale demon standing in front of the wood stove, wearing little more than a ruffled gingham red and green apron with little gingerbread men decorations printed on it, that I was quickly dispelled of that line of thinking.
It just feels a little odd, that is all. And breakfast is strained because of it. It is not because I feel particularly uncomfortable sitting with a demon now that I realize that it wasn’t all a dream. It’s more that he is sitting directly across from me, his jaw cupped in one hand as his eyes follow my every bite. I might have assumed it is just because he is hungry, but his plate and cup are left untouched and empty while he studies me. It is like his eagerly watching me so that he doesn’t miss a single bite. Is this what he did before when he was invisible? Would it be bad manners to ask him to disappear again? No, I can’t do that. He may never choose to show himself again, and I don’t think I would feel entirely at ease if he was hiding himself all the time, regardless of how nice and honest the demon appears to be. And the nice demon seems very intent on watching me eat.
I stir my porridge with my spoon. Filling the spoon, I lift it toward my mouth. For some reason my gaze shifts back to the demon and I see that his eyes are still fastened on me, his head angled slightly as if trying to look up into my slightly down-turned face.
Yeah, this is not going to work.
Sighing, I return the spoon to the bowl and push the porridge away. It is difficult to feel any real kind of appetite, especially when a demon is still something very new to get accustomed to. Last night, while his appearance had taken some getting used to, at least he acted somewhat normally. Now, however, said demonis staring at me with rapt interest while expecting me to eat normally. It is unnerving, to say the least.
Jak straightens, a look of concern pulling at his mouth and brow. “Is there something wrong with the porridge? Do you want something else?”
I shake my head and give him a small smile. “It’s not that. It’s just... are you not going to eat anything?”
He glances at his plate with a look of confusion. “Eat? Why would I eat? I have explained how things work. I am a frost demon and...”
Sighing, I sit back in my chair and look at him frankly. “Yes, yes, I know. You consume my... merriment. Do you really mean to tell me that you don’t eat anything else? Ever?”
He gives me a curious look and wrinkles his nose. He hesitates, however, as he considers his words.
“Does it disturb you?” he asks quietly.
I feel like a bit of a heel now, but I grimace and shrug in acknowledgement. “A little. It was different when you were just a disembodied ghost in my imagination. Having someone very... real... sitting across from me and staring at me while I eat is a bit unnerving.”
Jak’s lips twitch with amusement. “But this is what I always do.”
“Okay, but I was not aware of it,” I say pointedly, to which he has the good grace to chuckle wryly. The tension knotting my muscles eases at the sound of his self-deprecating laughter.
“Fair enough.” Sighing, he leans back in his chair as he casually regards me without his earlier intensity. “To answer your question, it is not that I do not eat altogether, but during the winter my body is focused on one specific form of nourishment that it is difficult to enjoy feeding it in other ways,” he admits as he glances apathetically at the food on the table. He gestures to a delectable dessert. “To you these are seasonaldelicacies that conjure memories of happiness. To my palate, the flavor is dull and uninspiring. Truthfully, I cannot even taste it.”
My gaze drifts over the table, and I am admittedly a little horrified. He cannot taste any of this?
“Nothing?” I echo, and he shakes his head with a small smile.
