Why did Davarox keep trying when he knew this was how it would go?
The shock of cold water did nothing to soften his exhaustion, which he could see in his reflection. The sunken bags under his eyes, the sickly pallor to his skin, the stain of a bruise at his neck.
So fucking tired. But he had to remind himself that this was safer. He couldn’t be the reason his best friend dreaded coming to work, or stopped spending time with him, or even faced half of the stigma that other demons gave Dav for his lack of magic. The male had already been bullied enough in his lifetime, and Dav needed to protect him.
Friendship was all it could ever be, and that was better than getting his heart destroyed all at once. At least bleeding out slowly meant he could still spend time around Lazerath’s warmth. See Laz’s smile every day and know that he was responsible for some of them. Protect the red demon’s dream of running a successful bakery.
Well, it was a bakery, and the barely-keeping-afloat success? A secret Davarox would take to his grave.
He slapped the shower wall as he passed on the way to his closet to wait out the water warming up. Selecting a button-down and pants that would suffice for the night out, he tossed them into a bag and threw his work clothes on the vanity before stepping into the shower.
At least it was hot, and Dav focused on the burn as he scrubbed himself and mentally prepared for the day. Inventory had already been completed, and while everything lined up between receipts, something still didn’t feel right about the prices when Dav had last checked the books. He’d staredat it for so long, costs and supply numbers had started to blur together, so Laz had pushed him into making caramels instead. Those would need to be bagged and displayed, then he’d need to rearrange the sweets again so that eyes would be drawn to the puff pastry—their most profitable treat.
Gods, he needed a better way to manage his to-do list than a mental tally. Granted, he had excellent memory. And an eye for aesthetics to appeal to customer desires. And spatial awareness, which was a requirement when one worked alongside a demon who drifted wherever he pleased at the drop of a coin.
By the time he turned off the water, his skin was sufficiently smarting from his distracted scrubbing. He squeezed the excess water from his shoulder-length hair before tying it back at his nape in a quick plait as he recalled the memory of Laz tugging on his first braid, telling him that it looked good. Dav had spent the entire summer learning how to do it better, reveling in each compliment his best friend had given him.
Davarox trudged out into the early morning, mist crawling over his boots. A few demons were out walking in the quiet peace before all of Heck woke and made their way to work. A generally predictable morning, which would lead to a predictable day, followed by a predictable evening where Laz convinced an entire room of drunk demons into doing some elaborate dance he made up on the spot.
Dav unlocked the back door to Lovable Loaf, rolling his eyes but enjoying a soft smile every time hethought of the name. Tossing his things in the back, he moved about the shop in his normal routine. Swipe the rune for the hearth, scrub down any counters that were missed the previous night, reset the tables out front, then flicking the runes for the sconces set throughout the front.
Finally settled, he sat at the counter, dropped his leather pouch, and opened the lockbox. Coins were neatly arranged, and he confirmed everything was in order as he flipped through their ledger. With a few marks, he changed some numbers and pulled the appropriate amounts from his leather bag.
Dav muttered the math under his breath, calculating which order could be adjusted without drawing suspicion. He could add a mysterious order in between two lines, but then he’d need to eat those treats from the case. What was about to go stale?
“Aw, yes,” Laz cheered as he stepped through the back door. “Going-out braid!”
Dav jolted, dumping the rest of the coins from his pouch into the lockbox and hiding the evidence. “I don’t have agoing-out braid.”
“You totally do,” Laz said, hanging his satchel on the coatrack and grabbing his apron. “It’s that simple braid where you’re flirting with someone, run a finger along your temple to tuck a non-existent strand of hair back in place, but really you use your claw to pull itout. Makes that slightly messy-but-still-sexy vibe work in your favor. I’ve seen it many times when you findsomeone cute you want to take home with you. Very effective.”
Davarox stared, jaw slack, until Laz turned around and he snapped it shut.
“Whoa,” the red demon gasped, gaze focused on Dav’s lap. “We did that well yesterday?”
Dav blinked, then mentally cursed himself as he glanced down at the open lockbox. “Uh, tips. You got a big tip. I was going to sort it out for you.”
Not a lie, entirely. There had been quite a few throughout the day, though perhaps not in the sum that Davarox had dropped inside.
“I knew it.”
His heart stuttered. “Knew… what?”
Suddenly, his hands were clammy. Was his tail always thwacking the floor like this? Did he usually sit straighter or did he slouch? When had his claws come out?
Laz snapped his fingers, pointing to the coins. “It was Elder Zaretha. I knew she was flirting with me.”
Davarox let out his breath as slowly and quietly as possible. “Yup. She came up to the counter to watch you walk into the back.”
“I do have a great ass.”
Dav didn’t answer that one.
“Just leave it in,” Laz said, waving at the money. “Tips are half yours, anyway.”
“Laz—”
“Don’t argue with me over this again,” hescolded, leaning down to glare eye to eye. “You never leave the back, and demons are assholes.”
