It was a heavy night.
But in the heaviness, something lifted. Sharing our darkest times helped shine tiny sparks of light into the dark. The light was still flickering and fragile, but I knew that as long as we were together, we could face it all. Whether in the darkness or the light.
Chapter thirty-one
Diablos
No sleep for the demons, and no sleep for me, either.
Dagon and I spent most of the night talking. I felt lighter than ever in my life. The suffocating pressure of my intrusive thoughts didn’t go away. It was still there, and it would probably always be.
But for the first time, I felt something else blooming in the darkness: a powerful, trustworthy presence.
Dagon’s presence.
I felt the love he had for me. It was like my soul touched his, and it knew that Dagon saw and accepted all of me. He didn’t look at me with pity or like I was crazy. He simply tried to understand. To support me. And that was everything.
And I realized that every time he said my full name, he was helping me reclaim it. He was taking my curse and turning it into devotion. Plus, now that I knew my man was a literal demon, I found my name next to his quite fitting and maybe even beautiful.
I still needed time to process it all. Not just what I'd shared, but also what Dagon did. We'd knocked down our walls, bared our wounds, and let the other see. Never, not even in my wildest dreams, did I imagine I could do this.
But Dagon…
My demon was proof that anything was possible.
At some point near dawn, when the room had gone gray and Dagon's breathing had finally slowed, I had reached for the glass of water on the nightstand. I hadn't even thought about it. My hand had found the glass, my fingers had wrapped around it, and I had, without meaning to, straightened it so the label faced exactly forward. Then turned it half an inch to the left. Then back. Then forward again.
Right.
I'd realized halfway through the third adjustment that Dagon was watching me.
I'd frozen. The shame had risen up my throat like bile – he's seeing it, he's really seeing it now, he knows what I am – and I'd started to pull my hand back.
He'd reached out and stopped me.
Not to stop the ritual. Just to lay his palm over mine on the glass. To hold it there with me. To let me finish.
When the glass had felt right, he'd kissed my shoulder and said, "Drink. Then sleep if you can."
That was it. That was all.
No commentary. No mocking me. No "I noticed." No "are you okay." Just his hand over mine on the glass until the compulsionwas finished, and then water, and then his body curled around mine in the gray dawn.
He had seen the ritual. He had not interrupted it. He had also not pretended he hadn't seen it.
Something in my chest had cracked open at that. A door I hadn't even known was locked.
He didn't ask me to hide it. He didn't ask me to perform it for him either. He just let it be what it was, with him beside me. That's how I'd fallen back asleep feeling lighter in his arms.
“We have to go, Di. I know you didn’t get much sleep.”
“I’m fine. That’s what two power cups of coffee are for.”
Speaking of, I had the second one in my hand. I wasn’t leaving the house without coffee. I would walk around with my ceramic cup and my life-potion brew, not caring how ridiculous I looked.
Dagon chuckled but didn’t say a word. Smart man.
Since our moment in the bathroom and our talk last night, I noticed we kept reaching for each other more – a gentle caress over the arm, a chaste kiss on the head, shoulders brushing, hands tangled as we walked. It was like we couldn’t bear being away from each other.
