Dimitri rolls his eyes and swipes a hand over his face. “So?”
“Haven't seen her.”
An image of her the last time I did pops into my mind. I grit my teeth and shove it away. It's not like I was there very long while she played with herself. Long enough for the pictureto implant in my brain and replay while I slept. I've woken up too many times with my cock in my hand while the echo of her moans rings in my ears. It's too much and not enough. And definitely not something I should act on.
Waltzing into her house and fucking her how she deserves to be fucked should not be at the top of my fantasies. She's a human. Not to mention a witch. The argument becomes flimsier the more I repeat it. One of these days, it'll crumble entirely and nothing will stop me from showing up without being summoned.
“You piss her off? You know how volatile they can be.” He laughs as if he's dropped the funniest joke this century.
“She's not like that,” I mutter, immediately wishing I would have kept my mouth shut.
He turns wide eyes to me, a grin plastered on his face. “Oh, she's not? Well, I stand corrected. Perhaps we should have a little meet up and?—”
“Don't even fucking think about it. Stay away from her. It's bad enough I'm going there. She doesn't need a whole host prancing through her fucking kitchen,” I growl.
He brings his hand to his chest and gasps. “I donotprance. I am as graceful as a?—”
“Dimitri,” Triton bellows. “Get over here and demonstrate how to not get sawed in half.”
He jumps to his feet and rushes over. Triton motions for me to follow, and I chuckle under my breath. He scowls before turning his attention to Dimitri. My friend can't say no. It's bred into him to follow orders. I don't know what went wrong with me, but I never had issues making my own decisions. It caused a lot of problems when I was younger. I've been around long enough now, no one fucks with me.
Except Clara.
I shake my head and push to my feet. Dimitri scowls at me again, then flips me off. I return the gesture before making myway through the keep. I could portal my way to my bedroom, but the walk will do me good. At least, I'm hoping it will. The more time I spend alone in my bed, the harder it is to push Clara from my mind.
Even after a month in Hell, I'm still thinking about her. She hasn't summoned me and it's starting to grate on me. Some humans have reservations about sex. Witches are usually more open about bedroom activities.
I probably should have left when I noticed what she was doing. Her embarrassment has clearly derailed our short-lived relationship. Not that we were linked like that. I'm merely a demon she summoned to open a fucking jar for her. We're not connected beyond that. The thread tying us together must be linked to the summoning and nothing more.
Except that night with the desk. She didn't ask me to put it together. At the time, I hid behind the want to skip out on a meeting. It was more than that, though. Admitting it to Clara wasn't an option. I have no idea what she'd do with the information.
If I told her I was bored and I actually liked being there, she'd…probably do nothing. I convinced myself she'd mock me, but that's not like her. She might give me shit about it, just like Dimitri would. Taunting me wouldn't be her style. I couldn't bring myself to say anything. So, I cited paperwork and a meeting. And then I put together her desk without her asking. In fact, she told me I didn't have to. I'm loath to admit it, but that night was relaxing—fun.
And then I fucked it all up the next morning.
I don't blame her for not summoning me again. I could check on her—make sure she's okay. Except I shouldn't care. Idon'tcare. I'm just pissed I don't have a place to hide out any longer. She was a small blip in my very long existence. She'll fadeinto the ether of my memories before long. Turns out, I'm really good at lying to myself.
There's a tug in my navel and I groan. Merely thinking about Clara wouldn't summon me. If that were the case, I'd be over there every half hour—maybe less. Yet here I am, being yanked through dimensions. I close my eyes, muttering under my breath all the things I can't tell her. I need to get it out of my system before I get to her house.
I grit my teeth as I drop into the summoning circle. Despite my weeks away, the chalk lines are fresh and my heart clenches. Maybe it's only been a few hours here. Fuck, I hate this shit. I rub my chest and hope the feeling goes away. My life is in enough upheaval without adding heart palpitations to the mix. Demons don't even get sick. If I walk back into Hell complaining of chest pains, Dimitri's going to have a field day.
A shiver rolls through me as I step out of the circle and prowl through the now-familiar house. A string of curses echoes through the living room, leading me toward her bedroom. At least she's not touching herself this time. I adjust myself as I walk down the hallway. I won't be able to hide how hard I am, but she seems preoccupied.
I knock softly, then push the door open an inch. “Clara?”
She moans, yet there's no pleasure in it this time around. “I didn't even say your name.”
“Would you like me to go?” I grimace at my formal tone.
Why the fuck am I so nervous? I'm a fucking demon, not a novice. I've taken out entire armies—men and demons alike. My entire existence is predicated on being terrifying and confident. Yet here I am, asking her whether or not she wants me to go. She sounds sick, or hurt, and I can't bring myself to leave her like that unless she banishes me.
I wince when she moans again. “I'm coming in.”
“Don't bother,” she mutters, but I'm already shoving the door open.
She's curled in a ball on her side in the center of her bed. Moonlight streams through her window, illuminating her flushed face. A whimper escapes her and my feet move before I've convinced myself to interfere. My knee hits the mattress and her body rolls toward me slightly. Her arms tighten around her waist and she buries her face into the comforter.
“What's wrong?” I demand, brushing her dark hair away from her face. She's not sweating and she doesn't seem to have a fever.
