Page 58 of Demon Food

He studied me for a tick but didn’t protest. He just plastered on an easy smile and said, “By all means. Take all the time you need.”

My head swiveled to the faucet of the bathtub when it twisted on without anyone touching it.

“There is always tomorrow. Maybe you’ll play with me then.”

I pinched my lips together, tapping my fingers on the crystal of the glass. See, that was the problem. I didn’t need to be playing with him at all.

“If I’m needed, you know where to find me.” He slipped his hands into his pockets as he meandered toward the door. “Out here cleaning up this torrential mess you’ve made of my desk with your violent eating.”

I cocked my head. “So, you’ll be burning things.”

“I will—” He interrupted himself with a genuine chuckle, and his teeth were brilliant. “Be burning things, yes. I don’t know how to clean, nor do I give shit about learning.”

It was getting harder and harder not to…smile. Which was exactly why he needed to go. Dangerous. This whole thing was so very fucking dangerous.

“No surprise there,” I said. “You are a prince.”

He winked. “And I will be your king, too, Snow Fox.”

17

ALEK

It was past noon the next day, and Feloré hadn’t come out of the washroom. I’d expected him to stay in there an hour or so, but all night long he’d been locked in there. Then all morning.

I would love to say I’d done anything productive with my time, but I had not.

It was impossible not to get sucked into his world of sounds. My attention would be stolen by a tiny sneeze, then by the time I realized it, hours would have passed. Hours on end where I just listened.

Some of his sounds were goddamn adorable. There was the sneezing and that one round of hiccups he’d had. There was the cursing he did under his breath when he tripped over his chain. I’d see it jerk under the door at the same time he’d hiss, Dammit or Stupid, shit chain.

Then there were the excruciating noises. Each delicate bead of water that dripped down his skin from the bath he took. Each full body stretch that ended in a satisfied sigh. Each click of his tongue piercing against the back of his teeth as he played with it.

I’d expected those noises. They held my attention in a tight fist that made my cock twinge, but what I hadn’t expected to hear were the tender sounds. Those were the ones that hurt my heart.

Like last night, right before sleep claimed him, he sniffled. And it was because quiet tears were slipping down his cheeks. The sigh he released wasn’t satisfied. It was hopeless, pitiful, and wrecked with pain.

And he’d said a name. He said it three times in one hour. Landry.

“I’m sorry, Landry,” he’d whispered against the cushion of the chaise. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

I wanted so badly to rest my forehead against the door and say, Who is he? Why do you cry for him? Come out and tell me. Come out and trust me.

But I knew better. I didn’t even trust myself.

I couldn’t tell how much of my longing to be near him was driven by the monster inside me. Did I like his face because his expressions were fiery and enchanting? Or did I like it because I wanted to lick it?

And did I like his voice because it was raspy and filled with curiosity? Or did I like it because of my desire to hear it screaming my name?

I couldn’t tell. I supposed two things could be true at once.

I sucked hard on my cigarette as I pushed myself from the bed, only to jerk to a stop at the sudden sharp pain lancing into my ribs. Good gods. I winced as I carefully lifted my shirt to peek at the wound, which, shiiiiit.

I’d never had a laceration last this long. It was like it wasn’t even trying to heal. At least it wasn’t bleeding. Even if it was doing what I could only describe as oozing from the middle while it remained swollen and puffy around the edges. I didn’t know what it meant or how to fix it. Burn it again? That seemed…barbaric.

It would heal with time, surely. So long as I didn’t do anything to make it worse.

With care, I pushed myself from the bed, my feet asleep and prickling with sensation as I hobbled into a walk. Feloré’s chain lay roped across the floor, disappearing beneath the washroom door.