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In the vast span of my existence, I have encountered countless human women, many very pleasing to the senses. However, I could not individually recall a single one. None captivated me beyond the fraction of time they spent in my purview.
Until Dela.
She lingers in my mind when I am not in her presence. Her full lips with their pale-rose hue—natural, not falsely painted, like most modern human women favor—and their pronounced bow shape. Her eyes, as blue as the clearest earthly sky, are always wide open and never shuttered. Looking into them brings a lightness unlike anything I have experienced and cannot resist returning to. And, in the moments when I am alone, free of the noise of the worlds above and below, memories of her voice flow through my mind, flooding me with an unfamiliar combination of peace and longing.
I did not think myself capable of those…feelings.
“Here you go.” The music of her voice pulls my focus from futile thoughts.
I hold up a payment card as she sets the takeout cup in front of me.
Her hair shimmers as she shakes her head. “This one’s on me.”
“I have ample financial assets.”
The upward curve of her mouth increases and her eyes twinkle as if filled with stars. “It’s a friendly gesture, Raz, not charity.”
I was born in the fiery depths of hell, yet hearing her speak my name, even in its shortened version, creates a different kind of heat within me. “Friendly.” I repeat the word no one has ever used in regard to me.
“Yes. If that’s overstepping, I?—”
“It is not.” I try once again to arrange my lips in a position she will interpret in a pleasing manner. “Thank you,” I say, lifting my cup from the counter.
The delicate brown arcs above her eyes rise. “Anytime.”
Behind me, an orc called Dakgorim loudly grumbles his displeasure that I have not relinquished my position in the line.
“Choose a time,” I say, ignoring an additional huff from the orc.
Dela’s head tilts slightly to the right. “A time?”
“A convenient time for me to purchase a beverage for you, when you are not performing the duties of your employment.”
“You want to buy me a coffee when I’m off the clock?” she asks, a rouge deep enough to rival my color rising on her cheeks and quickly spreading down her neck and into the neckline of her yellow shirt.
The sight of it nearly causes me to crush the paper cup in my hand. My desire for her is irrelevant. Speaking out of turn in an environment where she is not permitted to respond freely or to escape has made her uncomfortable, yet again. “I wish to return your friendly gesture. My nature requires balance be maintained.”
“Oh,” she says, her countenance falling. “Then I guess our natures are completely opposite, because when I give, it’s freely. I never expect something in return.”
Though I doubt she intended her comment to scathe, it does just that. Shame is not familiar to me. Though made to mask the true intent of my offer, my statement about balance was accurate. Even in delivering the darkest of reckonings, I have felt no regret. Vengeance is my reason for existing, and I have always behaved within the boundaries of my agreements. But today, I acted onmydesires. Perhaps not forbidden, but a mistake.
Further words are unnecessary. I was foolish to have spoken so many already. Even my nod before turning is more than I should give.
Next time, I will hold my tongue. But later, when I am alone, I will call up the memories created today. Visions of her tinted cheeks, the way her lovely lips curved for my eyes only, and the sound of my name in the song of her voice.
Dela
My feetand lower back are screaming at me by the time I toss my barista apron in the laundry bin at the end of today’s nonstop-busy shift. Since I have no plans to change jobs, I should invest in a better pair of sneakers for work. A high-quality pair.
I can afford them. Even though I had to start over in every aspect of life when I moved to Fate’s Falls, I have money in the bank. Enough to buy whatever I need and still have a safety buffer. My boss is generous with our pay and the customers tip well. Going to work is never a hardship—except on my body some days. But that can be remedied with new shoes. A massage would help, too, if I could work up the nerve to go to the spa in town.
My hesitation isn’t because the local masseuse is a multi-armed naga. The monster part doesn’t bother me at all. It’s the idea of lying in the dark, completely vulnerable. Seven months after waking up from what Doug intended to be my final sleep, I’m still kind of wobbly in the trust department.
I’ll get there. My therapist says I’m doing great, and she’s right. The past still bites me in the ass sometimes, but those bites become smaller nibbles every day. I’ve never been mentally and emotionally stronger. I like who I am now. And it only took being murdered by my human ex-boyfriend, returned to life by a reaper, and welcomed by a community of monsters to get to this point.
Life is too precious to waste a step of it wearing mediocre shoes.
“Bye,” I say, tossing the black sneakers in the trash can. Well, in the direction of the can, which, unfortunately, is on the other side of the doorway. “Watch out!” My warning comes too late.
