He laughed, pulling me into his arms. “Pustule will be disappointed, but I’m sure we can find an acceptable compromise.”
“How about regular rings and a small ceremony? Something that won’t terrify our human friends but will still satisfy your demonic lieutenants?”
“Perfect,” he agreed, sealing the impromptu engagement with a kiss that tasted of sunshine and something otherworldly, a blend as unique as our relationship.
When we separated, both smiling like idiots, the brimstone lily behind us suddenly bloomed more fully, its glow intensifying despite the daylight.
“Did your hell-plant just respond to our engagement?” I asked, eyeing the glowing flower.
“Brimstone lilies are sensitive to emotional energy,” Malphas explained, looking pleased. “Particularly strong positive emotions.”
“So we have mood-ring flowers now. Great.”
“They’re also excellent warning systems for supernatural threats,” he added. “Which is why I planted them strategically around the property line.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You fortified our home with demonic plants?”
He looked slightly defensive. “Merely a precaution. The lower realms occasionally take interest in unusual situations like ours.”
“My overprotective demon fiancé,” I sighed, though secretly I found his concern touching. “Next you’ll be installing hellhounds as guard dogs.”
“Actually,” Malphas began thoughtfully, “a small hellhound pup might be—”
“No,” I cut him off firmly. “Absolutely not. I draw the line at pets that breathe fire.”
“They only breathe fire after they’re fully grown,” he protested. “As puppies, they merely emit smoke when excited.”
“Still no,” I insisted, trying not to smile at his disappointed expression. “Let’s master the plant hybridization before we move on to supernatural pets.”
He conceded with a nod, returning to his gardening. I watched him for a moment longer, marveling at how ordinary and extraordinary our life together was.
Six months ago, I’d been a reluctant participant in a supernatural support group, nursing the trauma of possession and a general distrust of all things otherworldly. Now I was engaged to a demon prince who cleaned gutters and grew hellish flowers alongside petunias.
Life had a strange way of working out.
* * *
That evening, as rain pattered against the windows just as Malphas had predicted, we curled together on the sofa, watching a home renovation show that had become one of his guilty pleasures.
“Their tile selection is all wrong for that bathroom,” he muttered, critiquing the on-screen designers. “The undertones clash with the vanity.”
“Mmm,” I agreed vaguely, more focused on the comfortable weight of his arm around me than on bathroom design choices. “Terrible.”
He glanced down at me, amusement in his eyes. “You’re not even watching, are you?”
“I’m enjoying your commentary more than the show,” I admitted. “It’s cute how invested you get.”
“Cute is not typically a word associated with demon princes,” he noted dryly.
“Get used to it, fiancé. I plan to call you cute, adorable, and precious for all eternity.”
“Perhaps I should reconsider this engagement,” he grumbled, but his arm tightened around me, belying his words.
I laughed, settling more comfortably against him. “Too late. You’re stuck with me now. For better or worse, in sickness and in health, in home renovation and demonic business.”
“Those aren’t the traditional vows,” he pointed out.
“We’re not exactly a traditional couple.”
