Page 34 of When I Accidentally Summoned a Demon

Floor-to-ceiling shelving leans slightly to the left, effectively labeled. The boxes are in a row along the back wall—eight of them, card stock brown, each marked in black ink: SMUDGE KITS—Q3 RESTOCK and ALTAR SUPPLY—MIXED LOT.

I carry all eight with no difficulty.

When I emerge from the stockroom, Vesper is at the register with a woman holding a slab of labradorite and an earnest expression.

I am carrying all eight boxes. This attracts more attention than I anticipated.

The woman at the register stops speaking. A younger customer near the candle display looks up from her glowing rectangle. Even the mortal man behind the coffee bar pauses with a ceramic mug halfway to his mouth.

Vesper does not. She finishes whatever explanation she is giving about the stone, rings up the purchase, and gestures toward me with two fingers.

“Center island, Big Guy.”

I set the boxes down carefully beside it.

“You know,” the man behind the coffee bar says, “most people make two trips.”

I straighten. “That would be inefficient.”

His mouth twitches.

Vesper’s customer laughs as she gathers her bag. “Thank you again. And cleanse it before you use it for the first time,” Vesper tells her. “Smoke, moonlight, sound bath. Whatever works for you.” The woman promises she will and heads toward the door.

Only once the bell jingles behind her does Vesper turn toward the man with the mug. “Oh. Right.” She waves me closer. “Vale, this is my long-suffering manager, Robby Benson.”

I glance at him. He is an older man, likely in his late forties, with a trim beard, salt-and-pepper hair, and sharp but friendly blue eyes.

“Long-suffering?” I ask. Robby lowers his mug slowly. I cannot help the genuine confusion pulling at my brow. “Who could possibly suffer for long with such a wonderful human being as you, Ves?”

Robby’s jaw drops slightly, and his focus snaps toward Vesper. Then, he examines me again before turning back to her. His lips move silently. Ves?

Vesper heaves a sigh and waves her hand, a gesture I recognize as “let it go.” I am clearly missing some mortal context, but Vesper simply reaches into the nearest box and pulls out a bundle of dried sage as though nothing unusual has occurred.

Robby recovers almost instantly. “Oh, Vesper is wonderful.”

He sets his mug on the counter, rounds the end of the coffee bar, and sweeps one arm around her shoulders. With the easy familiarity of someone who has clearly done this before, he squeezes her against his side.

An unfamiliar pressure closes around my chest. My first thought is the tether. But I dismiss it. No pain. No strain on the bond. This feeling…it is hot and constricting, something primitive tightening behind my ribs as my gaze settles on Robby’s arm.

Around Vesper.

I understand, intellectually, that there is nothing improper about the contact. Vesper does not stiffen, nor pull away. She looks more amused, accustomed to Robby’s theatrics, and regards him as more…fraternal.

I also understand that I possess no claim over whom she permits to touch her. This knowledge does absolutely nothing to make me enjoy it.

“Vesper just knows I’m far better at organization.” He snorts. “You would not believe how disorderly this place was before her savior arrived.”

He releases her and flutters one hand beneath his chin before dipping his head in a theatrical bow. I recognize the gesture immediately. Flaunting—mostly in jest, judging by Vesper’s expression. Still, the word savior settles unpleasantly in my chest. It should not. Robby is speaking about shelves. I know this.

However, Vesper unintentionally pulled me from an execution. When she discovered exactly what she had summoned, she did not condemn me or harm me. She brought me into her home. Fed me. Protected me. Trusted me near the small beastie she treasures above everything in this realm.

The word “savior” belongs more naturally to her.

“But—” Robby lifts one finger, cutting directly through my thoughts. “Vesper is still the ultimate power behind VV’s.”

VV’s. I presume this is an abbreviation of Vesper’s Vessels.

Vesper groans, kneading her brow. “Robby.”