I examine myself in my wardrobe mirror, then check the time. Another ten minutes before I have to leave to catch my bus. Stepping back into the living room, Rosier groans, coming to life.
“Good morning,” I say before taking another sip of coffee.
“Fuck you,” Rosier grumbles.
I snort. “Not a morning person, huh?”
Rosier sniffs the air. “What is that?”
“Coffee…” I would offer him some, but he wasn’t wrong last night, I’m not exactly happy he rejected my revenge proposal. “I can make you some… if you agree to my contract.”
Rosier’s eyes narrow. “You think bribery will sway me?”
“Worth a shot,” I mutter before walking back to the fridge to fix up a quick breakfast, my usual yogurt, berries, and granola.
It doesn’t take long for Rosier to lumber over, still very naked and still wearing my purple bonnet. He looks at my bowl, then back at me, a spoonful already in my mouth.
“This is yogurt. Do you guys have yogurt in Hell?” When he shakes his head, I explain, “It’s kinda like cheese. You guyshaveto have cheese in Hell.”
“Agricultural pursuits are not possible in the Hells. Nor do we eat through our mouths,” he adds as I chew my granola slowly. “The endless suffering of the Hells sustains us. Here, vice is our source of energy.” His brows furrow, as dark as his hair but comically straight, like they’ve been drawn on with a marker. “Shouldn’t you know these things, little witch?”
“Bite me.”
“Kill me, then.” He gestures down at his bare chest. “Shouldn’t be too hard even for a little thing like you.”
Maybe he’s messing with me, but I do wonder if devils can really die. The Veil is said to touch all realms, accept spirits of all sorts. Yet I can’t imagine fairies or devils dying the same as humans. You can’t exactly just clap and believe to bring back a dead family member. If only…
“I would rather not murder someone. That’s taboo you know. Shouldn’t a devil know that?”
Rosier scoffs. “Humans think fucking is taboo. Are you going to tell me everyone is celibate?”
He has a point–not a great one, but it’s something.
“Killing you also wouldn’t be a great idea since I still need a contract.”
Rosier rests his chin in his hands, his fingers covering his mouth as he mutters, “So irritating.”
“You’ll have to speak up.” I shove the last of my food in my mouth and bring the bowl to the sink to wash later. “I don’t get why you’re acting like this. I thought devils wanted contracts.”
“How would you like to have some bitching, sniveling weakling tied to your soul–always in your periphery for the rest of time?”
I glance over my shoulder, and somehow his eyes are even more molten than before. I’ve assumed the lack of contracts between mortals and devils came from our end, but maybe it’s the devils who have decided we’re not worth the trouble.
“As interesting as that question is,” I say, “, I have to get going, and I need you to stay put.”
“You dragged me here and now you’re leaving me?” His hand is now balled into a fist, pressed against his cheek.
“Yes, okay, I’m sorry, but I can’t just call off. You can…”
I look around my apartment, cursing myself for not buying a TV or some other mindless thing. I go to my bookshelf and try to find something that won’t give Rosier too many ideas. As if my collection isn’t almost exclusively gothic stories of women being ravished by rogues and gentlemen. Maybe if I give him one of the gentleman books, he’ll learn some manners.
I grab one of my nice-guy gentlemanly Regency books and bring it to him. “Here, educate yourself.” To my surprise he takes the book, studying its cover of a bosomy woman sprawled against a stern looking man. “Or… read any of the other books I have. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Hopefully with a plan on how to fix this mess I’ve made. I might have to beg Amber to help me or find someone who can send him back. I’m already in way over my head, and if anyone is going to help me get through this, it’s her. Hopefully she won’t be too upset.
I go to leave my apartment only for the door to slam shut, a tan hand looming over me. I look over my shoulder to see Rosier, glaring at me with narrow eyes, like I’m a bug he’s considering squishing but hasn’t decided yet. Goose pimples cover my skin, but I ignore them, lifting my chin and keeping my lips tight.
“Are you done now?” I grab his wrist and pull it from the door.
