When he finally lost that battle, his mouth pulled free and a deep, low sob filled the room.
“I don’t know what’s come over me, Caitlyn.” He sniffled as fresh tears spilled down his cheeks. “I’m not a crier. I didn’t even cry when we thought Kendra had died at the end of season three of—” He sniffed again. “—Hexes at Noon.”
“That would be batch number one of my Wailing Whirls,” I said, trying to remain composed.
Blaise’s eyes softened in relief, his huffing sob now a strange mix of artificial sorrow and genuine pride. “I should have guessed,” he croaked, “that accepting candy from Creep was a bad idea. But at least we know the rue—” He broke off with another sob, his voice catching. “—works.”
“A little too well,” I said. “The worst of it should wear off in another few minutes, but you might be crying intermittently for another hour or so.”
I glanced over at Creep, who was still shaking with glee.
Blaise shot her a half-serious glare. Creep, utterly unrepentant, hopped to her feet, mischief somehow glazing her frozen face before she pitter-pattered out of the room to plot her next prank.
He tugged at the hem of his T-shirt and brought it up to wipe his cheeks, exposing his torso and causing a lump to form in my throat. He cast me a knowing stare, his lips quirking into a grin as he clearly scented the spike in my desire, before a fresh wave of tears spilled down his cheeks.
He wiped his face again before standing, abandoning the armchair for the couch beside me. With effortless grace, he slipped an arm around my shoulders and guided me down to sit with him, settling me perfectly into the damp crook of his neck.
His hand threaded into the hair at my temple as if tethering me there, fingers massaging my scalp in slow, soothing circles until my whole body melted into him.
“I think I deserve a cuddle after that,” he murmured, a sniffle catching on his words. “I’m feeling unusually vulnerable.”
I snuggled into him, a fresh wave of tears dampening my hair. My mind raced, trying to form the questions I hadn’t let myself linger on.
Blaise shifted beneath me, his hand cupping my face as if to keep me there—as if he didn’t want to risk meeting my eyes. His voice was barely above a whisper when he said, “Can I tell you about my past?”
I nodded.
His chest rose and fell slowly beneath me, his fingers resuming their gentle circles as if grounding himself for what he was about to say.
“I hated the Shadow Realm. It was dull and lackluster, and I couldn’t wait until I was old enough to leave it for good. The mortal realm was so colorful. So full of life.” His breath hitched softly. “A place where I could build something while I waited for you.”
My heart tightened. While I’d been trying to build a lifeforhim, he’d been doing the same for me.
Blaise let out a slow breath, his chest rising and falling beneath me. “So, when you didn’t summon me that first Samhain, I was actually a little relieved,” he admitted. “Not that I wouldn’t have loved to meet you back then. I just... didn’t feel like I knew who I was yet. I wanted to meet you fully formed and functional... if that makes sense.”
I wanted to tell him that his reasons mirrored my own. That I’d wanted more substance to myself, more stability, before I shared my life with someone else. But I stayed quiet, not wanting to break his rhythm, and nodded instead.
“I figured the only way to do that was to go into the mortal realm and make a life for myself,” he continued. “I had a few supernatural friends from earlier visits who helped me get set up with an apartment and the basics. Devlin even had a wolf-shifter friend who spent what must have been the most painful day of his life teaching me about the internet, laptops, cell phones and how job searches worked.” A soft chuckle threaded through his words at the memory.
“The thing is, I’m not the most organized demon,” he went on. “I can be a bit of a whirlwind when I’m distracted. But I’m even worse when I’m focused.” His voice dipped. “I became so obsessed with finding work and learning how to function in this realm that I forgot some of the more basic survival skills.”
He hesitated.
“About a month after I left the Shadow Realm, Ambrose came to visit me for the first time.” He paused. “It wasbad,Caitlyn. I’d just finished a two-week stint as a bouncer, and he found me sitting in the dark, hunched over my laptop, scrolling for the next job I could take.”
That didn’t soundtoobad, I thought.
“I’d forgotten that normal people turn lights on,” he said quietly, “and need to do laundry, and wash dishes, and shower. All things we never had to think about in the Shadow Realm.” His fingers stilled briefly before resuming their slow circles. “I became so obsessed with finding work that I forgot the most basic survival skills. Including feeding.”
Ah. Yeah. That was pretty bad.
An image flashed through my mind—Ambrose, faceless in my imagination, stepping into an apartment as grimy as my house had once been. Piles of laundry. Overflowing trash. And a half-feral demon clutching his laptop like Gollum with a precious.
“So, after averylong lecture on housekeeping,” Blaise went on, “Ambrose practically had to carry me to a bar to find someone to feed from. I hadn’t realized how weak I’d become after a month without it. Honestly, I don’t know how I survived that last security job.”
Blaise blew out a breath.
“He found a shifter who wasparticularlyenthusiastic about spending the night with an incubus.” A faint, embarrassed huff escaped him. “When she suggestedbothof us...” Blaise hesitated, his body tensing beneath me. “We usually feed alone. But I was weak, and Ambrose was already going to have to help me back to her place anyway. So that night was—”
