Davarox
Davarox was in a staring contest with a custard…
And he was losing.
“Don’t say it.”
Ember clicked her tongue. “Wasn’t going to say anything.”
“I followed the recipe.”
“You did.”
“And it’s a lumpy mess.”
“It is.”
“It’s the oven,” he grumbled, knowing full well it wasn’t the oven.
The human, whose kitchen he’d taken over, clearly wasn’t having it. “You said that the last four times.”
“Fifth time’s the charm.”
“Illustra burn me. Sev!”
“No, don’t get—” Dav snapped his fangsdown when the red demon appeared almost instantaneously in the doorway. His single eye landed on the bubbling mess that could not be called custard, something like horror passing over his face.
But then Ember was stomping past Dav, ripping her apron off and slapping it against Sev’s chest. “Brooding grumps deal with brooding grumps. Stop avoiding each other and fix… whatever is going on here.”
As if there wasn’t already tension in the room—created and sustained by Dav alone—the presence of the very demon he’d been avoiding only added to Dav’s stress.
Not like it hadn’t been his damn idea to show up at his best friend’s cottage unannounced and spend the next four days in hiding.
Davarox turned away from the male, not only because of the similarities Sev shared with his twin, but so Dav could put his walls back up in preparation for the conversation he was certain would be happening. But as Severath entered the kitchen and found a place at his table, Davarox remembered something in the years he’d spent in constant company with the other red sibling.
Severath was not a talker.
He was a starer.
With the one-eyed gaze locked on his back and the custard mocking his face, Dav’s shoulders slowly climbed higher and higher as he ignored the mounting silence. Outside, the crashing rain against the windows matched his inner turmoil.
His hands shook as he pushed the failed custards aside,trying to compare his mental list of ingredients to what he had left from the icebox and pantry.
Fuck, lists. Another reminder of his failings.
He glanced down at the bowl in front of him, the stray thought of shattering it in frustration passing before he pushed it aside and followed Severath to the table.
But just the sight of the red demon felt like Dav had been impaled by a mylioptera’s tail, body paralyzed as the monster feasted on him.
Starting at his heart.
He flopped onto the chair opposite his friend, burying his head in folded arms and let out a long sigh.
More silence greeted him.
Davarox wasn’t used to silence, at least one that felt like this. Rosalind was great at silence, but her quiet wasn’t uncomfortable or heavy, even when she was challenging him with her all-knowing glare. She was the harmony between him and Laz, a steady presence or sparkling light to match the excitable demon in their company.
The twin in front of him was neither for Dav, and while they were friends, perhaps it was the effect of brooding grumps wanting to elongate their pain and suffering that had Davarox finally lifting his head.
