I didn't know what people meant when they said they were speechless, yet here I am. It's as if the words float just out of reach, tantalizing me with their succinct execution.
He smirks, raising a single eyebrow. “Did I break you?”
A shiver rolls down my spine, and I haul my mind out of the gutter before I blurt out something about his cock. “I didn't think demons…you know what? Never mind. Is there something you needed?”
“You didn't think we apologized? Of course we do. Though not often.”
“Why not?” I avoid his eyes as I gather the bowl from the floor and search for my silverware.
“Because we rarely have anything to apologize for.”
The fork appears in front of me, and I snatch it out of the air before scrambling to my feet. “How'd you do that?”
He shrugs, smirking at me. “Magic, little witch. Now why were you summoning me?”
I scowl as I round the island and wash out my dish. “Again, I didn't. So you can go back to wherever you were and do whatever it is demons do.”
“Someone's in a bad mood,” he murmurs in my ear.
Bastard seems to have done a one-eighty. He was curt and dismissive before. Even when he ran Brandon off, he acted like he didn’t want to help me. The whole encounter was awkward and slightly humiliating.
I left for my date with such high hopes. Was I teasing Omen a little? Sure. He kept giving me mixed signals, though. He was snapping at me one minute and lusting after me the next. I'm notentirely great at reading people, especially demons, though. Just because Ithoughthe wanted me, doesn't mean he actually does.
“I'm fine. Do you need me to send you back then? Or is there something you needed?” I turn around and lean against the counter. I expect him to be right behind me, but he's sitting on my vacated stool. How the hell did he get there? Doesn't matter.
“You realize time works differently in Hell, right? So, you summoning me after a week here was only a few hours in Hell.”
“Well, it's been two weeks now, so how long has it been for you?” I cross my arms and my foot taps in time with my heartbeat. I'm not in a bad mood per se. I'm just annoyed at the desk. And at him randomly showing up. I'm embarrassed more than anything. I threw a damn fork at his head, for fuck's sake.
“About a week.” His finger runs along the spine of the spell book and I swear it shudders.
“The math ain't mathing.”
He smirks. “Of course not. It's Hell.”
He glances over his shoulder and I scramble upright. I'd rather he not see the mess of parts sitting in the living room. I'm perfectly capable of putting together a desk by myself. There are directions and everything. Once I figure out which parts go with each picture, it should be a breeze.
“What do you do in Hell? Torture people?” I blurt out in a bid to pull his attention back to me. He swings around, his brows pulled low.
“What do witches do up here? Burn?”
My nostrils flare as I rein in the rage swirling between us. “You know damn well witches weren't burned.Womenwere burned. A witch wouldn't be caught in the first place. And I don't appreciate you making light of those events.”
“Perhaps you'd do best not to make light of calling me a torturer, then.”
Part of me wants to roll my eyes. The other is smart and likes my limbs attached to my body. We stare at each other, neither willing to fully back down. We're at an impasse, though I suppose he'll win no matter what. Heisa demon, after all.
“I wasn't calling you a torturer. All I know about Hell is it's where bad people go,” I murmur.
“What are you, six?” He shakes his head and mutters, “Bad people.”
“Well, I forgot the wordevil. Sue me.”
His face scrunches up, and I swear he looks more human. “What does that mean?”
“Evil? How the hell do you not know the word evil? I'm pretty sure?—”
“Sue. Is that a euphemism for fucking?”
