“I’ll make the noodles you like for dinner.”
“Done.”
Rosalind swiped the offered coins, thankful for the distraction and fresh air. She knew Mozke hadn’t really done it to give her a chore, but to give her an excuse to get out of city hall for a little bit. To forget the morning—maybe even the last three days—and just stretch her legs a little.
A personal life.
She laughed.
But it faded much faster than it had in the past.In the human world.
Her personal life had always been filled with family. Her parents and younger siblings, grandparents, aunts and uncles and cousins. Houses always filled with food and bodies and smiles. There had barely been time to panic amid the noise and chaos.
Heck was different. There were always bouts of quietness when her heart beat out of control. Her mind scrambled to fill space. There was so much time to be… lonely.
Gods,wasshe lonely?
She took in the Lovable Loaf’s storefront, finding herself relaxing despite the direction of her thoughts.
This. This felt right. A calm and cozy atmosphere that didn’t make her want to fill it with worrying thoughts or dark feelings. Buttery and bright smells blanketing her in warm memories of her father’s forehead kisses and her mother’s hugs. A caring and comforting place.
The glass gave her a beautiful view of the inside—empty tables decorated with single flowers in vases. A display case of every color frosting and treat she recognized, and some she knew nothing about. A hand-painted sign highlighting the special of the day with a word she absolutely could not pronounce but a drawing that looked good enough to eat.
Home. It felt like the kitchen she grew up in. The hearth always full of treats. Laughter as the youngest cousins scrambled around shins and the adults dodgedheads with warm baking trays. Her grandmother scolding Papa for needing to confirm a recipe when he’d made the same food for fifty years.
That joy crashed down just five seconds after stepping inside.
She first noticed the customer at the counter, who was accepting the pastry bag from the bakery owner. Then she skipped over that yellow demon in favor of the red hand releasing the treat.
And then shock rooted her body to the spot when she followed that red arm up to a beautiful face she recognized.
But Lazerath hadn’t noticed her yet. Not like the gray demon standing in the doorway between the counter and the back room.
Davarox’s mouth was already parted, black eyes wide as he stared at her.Damnit, he was just as handsome now as he’d been the other night, this time sporting a white apron that made his broad chest and arms look even stronger.
“Have a great day,” Laz said to the customer and started to turn to greet her.
There was no time to hide. No larger demon to duck behind or a way to disguise that she was very much the human woman they’d shared in one of the wildest and most wonderful hookups she’d ever experienced.
Rosalind couldn’t move her legs. Not as Laz’s bright, customer-service smile dissolved into open-mouthed shock. Not as the coins he was sorting slipped from his palm andclattered into the lockbox. Not even as the yellow demon momentarily blocked her view as he tried to figure out how to move around her to the door.
The door.
Laz somehow knew her plan before she did. “Wait!”
She spun, legs poised to sprint.
The fucking demon was faster.
Rose had barely made it a step before a red blur beat both her and the yellow demon to the door, slamming it shut. And then Laz spread his whole body—arms, legs, and tail—across the exit.
“Hey, what in the blazes?” the yellow demon cursed.
But Laz’s gaze was only on Rosalind, chest rising and falling like he’d sprinted a marathon, not five steps to the front of his store. “You’re here.”
She was, and she was also going to murder Mozke for the setup.
“You’re really here,” Laz repeated.
