“Me again,” she says, framing her face with her hands. “Sorry, I realize you probably have other things to do, but I need another favor.”
“It's not a favor if you summon me, witch.” My nostrils flare as her scent washes over me. Sage and lemon blossom—a cloying combination.
“While I'd usually agree, I need you to actually leave the circle. So, the favor is to actually come back when I ask instead of taking advantage of it. Which means I need something from you…” She bites her lip, a hopeful expression on her face.
“My name,” I grumble, sighing.
I never used to have a problem with giving out my name. It's not like witches could do anything other than let me out of the circle. Unless they had my sigil, they wouldn't be able to summon me. She already has that, so my name wouldn't complicate things. My name is merely an insurance for her to send me back to Hell. I’m sure witches are taught something ludicrous, like they can brainwash us or force us to do their bidding. I could correct her, tell her it’s not that serious, but what’s the fun in that?
She twists her hands together. “I know it's probably a whole thing, but I promise I won't use it for anything nefarious. It's just my dad always said to have an exit plan that wasn't the front door. So, I feel like I'd be doing him a disserv?—”
“It's Omen.” I could pretend I offered it up because I didn't want to hear her talk anymore. I'm not ready to admit what the actual reason is.
She grins and picks up a thick, black book. “Well, my name is Clara.”
“I'm aware.”
Her smile widens. “Okay, Omen.”
I grit my teeth, trying to ignore the curl of pleasure in my stomach. My name on her lips shouldn't affect me in any way. It doesn't. If I keep repeating it, my body might eventually accept it.
“So, now that I have your name. Omen,” she says with a lilt to her voice. “I just need to find the spell that allows me to let you out of there.”
“What exactly do you need me to do?” It's probably moving a box or something. As soon as I know, I can decide whether to tell her how to set me free instead of watching her thumb through the book.
“The batteries in the smoke detector are beeping. I tried to reach the thing, but it's too high even when I stand on the table. I wasn't about to put a stool on top of it. Tried that before and let me tell you, it was not a great idea. I swear I still have bruises.” Grooves appear between her eyebrows as she studies the page, and I fight not to curl my lip at the book. “I figure you're so tall, you might be able to do it for me. You might have to use the chair, but that's okay.”
“It'sdaemonium dimittere me.Although, just saying ‘release my demon’ might work.”
She glances up, her eyes flicking to my cock, which twitches at the attention. Her tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip, further complicating the situation. Her cheeks redden again, and I glance away. It's been too long since I've bedded someone if I'mreacting to a damn witch. If she keeps it up, we'll be in a world of trouble.
I could summon my shadows, form some sort of shield around myself. Ishoulddo that, but I won’t. The flush on her cheeks amuses me, along with the flash of desire in her eyes. Messing with her just might be the highlight of my night.
She speaks the words, her accent twisting the words in an unusual way. Slowly, I step out of the circle and she tenses. I slide into her space and tower over her. She presses her lips together, her scent morphing, and I smirk.
“Lead the way, little witch,” I murmur.
She nods, then pivots, and her black hair brushes my chest. My palm itches to wrap the strands in my fist. She marches away and I follow. I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't plants covering almost every surface. The rooms in the cottage are small with ceilings much higher than I'm used to. I don't even have to duck under the doorways.She stops when we reach a tiny dining room with a table which only seats four.
“Don't make that face. It's a family heirloom,” she snaps. Apparently the little witch has claws. I'm not surprised, though most witches fail to bring out their happy side when around demons.
“I wasn't making a face,” I mutter as I use one of the chairs to hide my throbbing cock.
“Sure you weren't,” she says under her breath. “Okay, so here's the batteries. That's the smoke detector. You know how to change it, right? I don't imagine it's very hard to figure out.”
“I'll manage. Perhaps you should…get the fuck out.”
She smirks, then flounces away. After a minute, things clatter in the kitchen, and I snatch up the batteries. I climb onto the chair, careful to protect my balls. I may be a demon, but it still hurts when I get knocked in the nuts.
The smoke detector is just out of reach, so I step onto the table. It takes me a minute to find the compartment and another two minutes before I figure out how to get the battery out. It doesn't look like the ones Clara gave me. My nostrils flare and I drop them at my feet.
“Witch,” I bellow.
Her footsteps rush in and she squeaks, covering her eyes. “Sorry, uh, what's up?”
“These won't work. The battery is shaped differently,” I grumble. I'd toss it at her, but she still has her hand over her eyes.
“What kind do you need?”
