Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 14761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 74(@200wpm)___ 59(@250wpm)___ 49(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 74(@200wpm)___ 59(@250wpm)___ 49(@300wpm)
“It doesn’t matter.” I shrug, trying to play it off, but my shoulders are too stiff for the lie to be convincing. “I tried to blend in, but it’s so exhausting carving off bits of yourself so people around you will be more comfortable.”
“It is.” There’s understanding in his tone, and more of that soft empathy. “I’m sorry. I let my curiosity reign instead of thinking of your feelings.”
I shrug again, but this time it feels a little more honest. “I like your curiosity. What do you want to know about being a demon?” This, at least, I have the knowledge to answer. It doesn’t matter if I’m a bad demon; I’ve gone through the same training as all the others. More than that, I’ve had to spend so much time observing my peers and our instructors and Ralph, trying to figure out how to bend myself into a form they’d approve of.
Caleb’s curiosity truly is a delight. He’s smart too. He asks questions about how our society is set up, how my powers work, what kinds of emotions are edible, and even what they taste like. He’s baffled by the knowledge we are formed as babies instead of birthed by other demons. When we circle back to how we’re raised, he sits back with a choked laugh. “It’s honestly kind of depressing that demon culture is healthier than anything we have as humans. No child goes hungry? They’re all cared for? The elders too?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “The elders are the most powerful of us all. Sure, eventually they fade away, but even during that fading, only a fool would cross one of them.” I smile. “But, yes, our children are cared for. They’re our future.”
“Yes, exactly.” He’s even more handsome when he’s excited about something. His hands and expression are animated, and his zeal practically saturates the space between us. “I do a lot of volunteer work for communities who can’t afford wellness visits, but it’s absurd that they should have to pay anything to keep their children well. We petition and call and march, and the people who make the decisions just keep doing the cruelest thing possible in any given situation.” Just like that, the light goes out of him and his shoulders slump. “We truly live in broken times.”
“I’m sorry.” And I am. I know human history in the broadest of strokes. The more detailed education is given to those destined to spend more time among the humans themselves. A sleep paralysis demon doesn’t have to know much at all to generate enough fear to keep from starving.
It feels like only minutes later when Caleb glances at the clock and sighs. “I’m really enjoying talking to you, but you said we only have until sunrise, and that deadline is fast approaching.” He blushes again. “Like I said before, we don’t have to do this. Before you ask, I do want to, but I don’t want you to be pressured.”
Does he realize how absolutely charming he is? Probably not, based on how awkward he’s suddenly become. I belatedly recognize that suggesting I sit on his chest probably had connotations I don’t fully understand, so I try for a compromise. “What if we started with a kiss?”
He brightens immediately. “A kiss sounds lovely.” During our conversation, we ended up sitting cross-legged facing each other, but he stretches out and then moves to his knees. Something pops as he does, and he grimaces. “Old injury. Don’t worry about it.”
I absolutely do not want to put him in a position—literally in this case—that hurts him. Before he can say anything else, I scoop him into my arms and kind of topple us onto the bed. He immediately tenses, and I curse myself for being impulsive. “Sorry. Again. I was trying to help.”
Caleb inhales and exhales a few times. “Gemma, we seem destined to keep apologizing to each other. You surprised me. That’s all.” He reaches out and tentatively cups my face. It’s like when he held my wrist, but so much better. My whole body buzzes in response to his thumb tracing over my right cheekbone. He pauses. “Um, before I kiss you, I really need to know how old you are. I hope you understand.”
I do. Immediately. A breathless laugh escapes me. “I’m not a youngling by any definition of the word, yours or mine. I’m seventy years old, Caleb. Demons reach majority at fifty. I promise I’m an adult and consenting to this the same way you are.” I lean into his touch. “I’ve never had sex with a human before, but I’m not new to sex as a concept or act. It’s just . . . different with demons.”
He keeps stroking my cheek, his lust growing in slow waves that make me dizzy. “Different how?”