Page 6

Each loss only made me hate my demon hunter husband that much more.

After dropping a strainer filled with loose tea in each mug, I carried them to the table. On the second trip, I fetched honey, two saucers, and two spoons. There was something soothing about the ritual of making tea that never failed to make me feel slightly better, despite my deplorable circumstances.

“While the kettle heats, we can get yer business done. Are ya my checker today?”

The man was at least Jack’s size, which meant he cleared six feet or more in height. Although he was seated, I could tell his height because our eyes met easily as I stood next to the table. His longish hair was pulled back in a ponytail streaming down to mid-back. It was charcoal black with a bit of silver showing at the temples, suggesting he was my age or older.

I was surprised. They usually sent younger ones to chat me up. The young ones were eager to tattle on me for whatever favors the demon hunter council promised them.

After spending the first year being mean and surly to visitors, I eventually forced myself to be nice. Revealing that I was still angry gave too much of my true feelings away, so it became my best kept secret. I even kept it from my visiting daughter because I didn’t want my teenager rebelling against her father on my behalf. Also I didn’t know what Jack might do to control her. Given the ease with which he’d betrayed me, I couldn’t take any chances.

I returned to sit at the table as I waited for the kettle to boil, I caught myself imagining what my new visitor would look like with his hair undone and falling over his very wide shoulders. I imagined it would be as long as mine, but then I hadn’t had a real haircut since I got here. Dye also was forbidden to me for some strange reason, so now I looked the way the Goddess intended.

When the silver grew below my shoulders after three years, I’d had the then sixteen-year-old Fiona cut the old half straight across with a pair of kitchen shears. Half my old hair fell to the floor that day, and along with it all the memories it carried. Fiona scooped the cut strands up and put them into the trash while asking me why I looked so sad when my hair looked much, much better.

There was no answer to give her that she’d have understood at that age. My imprisonment had become too normalized in our life. One day years from now, I’d remind her of that haircut and explain how it had felt to see a gray-haired stranger when I looked in the mirror. If she showed compassion for those feelings, I might also admit to her that I was ashamed of myself for not using my powers to change my fate.

Maybe she’d figure out that the reason I restrained myself was her. Or maybe she wouldn’t. Ya couldn’t tell what a young person was thinking most of the time. She was twenty now and I still couldn’t tell.

My visitor’s grin over my silent musings annoyed me, so I pulled myself back to attention. I met his gaze and waited until he finally answered my question.

“Maybe I am your checker today. No one used that term when they sent me to come talk to you.”

The teakettle chose that moment to whistle loudly. I held up a finger for him to pause his comments as I rose from the table to retrieve it. After filling both our mugs with hot water, I returned the kettle to the stove and dug for a package of cookies in a nearby cabinet. I rarely indulged in eating sugar because it messed with my energy, but Fiona enjoyed them whenever she stopped by.

Since I had not invited this man, I didn’t bother with a plate when I brought the cookies back to the table. I just slid the now open package in front of him so he could help himself when he was ready.

“My name’s Aran. I’m sure ya know that already, but introductions make me feel normal, so I indulge myself with every new person. Now, who would ya be?”

He glared over my cheery greeting like I’d offended him somehow. I decided it was a peculiar reaction, but who was I to judge what his day had been like before I saw him?

“Why are you incarcerated, Aran?”

Before I attempted to explain, I removed the tea strainer from my cup, set it on the saucer, and added some honey to my tea. I gave the brew a slow stir to make him wait a bit longer.

“How is it ya don’t know about my situation?”

His shoulder lifted and fell as he shrugged. “They say you’re here because you control a demon who obeys you.”

I lifted my hands and looked around. “If I controlled a demon like they say, don’t ya think I would have burned this bloody house to the ground by now?”

He brought his cup to his very nice lips before he spoke again. I was too mesmerized to look away. That was what seven years of celibacy did to a woman. It caused me to fantasize about one of my jailers. Wasn't there a syndrome for that nonsense?

He smiled as he lowered his mug. “I’m a good listener, Aran. Why don’t you tell me the truth?”

Was he really implying that I was a liar? I laughedat his nerve. “I didn’t expect to be playing twenty questions with a stranger over tea today. Ya’ve caught me unprepared.”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “The council told me their side of your story. I came to hear your version.”

Yes, I was sure that was true to some degree, but the real question waswhyhe wanted to hear what I had to say. The man wanted something big from me. Even though I had no clue what that could be, I could feel him working his courage up to ask for it.

I sipped my tea as I gave him what he asked for. “Oh, my side of my story is very simple. I’m stuck here because the man I married betrayed me. However, being betrayed is an old, old story, ya know, as well as a boring one. Don’t ya find it hard to talk about personal things with a stranger? I know I do. Or are ya intending to eventually tell me yer name and why ya’re really here?”

While he mentally wrestled with my insistent curiosity, I let my gaze travel over his face. I think my staring made him more uncomfortable than my verbal challenges because he lifted one dark eyebrow in surprise. The man who had yet to give me his name wasn’t nearly as handsome as I recalled Jack being, but it had been many years since I laid eyes on the man I was still legally bound to.

Fiona hadn’t even shown me any pictures. She said her father had asked her not to. I had my suspicions as to why Jack made that request of our child, but I chose to remain in denial until my suspicions were confirmed.

My mysterious visitor’s mild scowl hinted at the sort of masculinity I’d found vastly intriguing when I was younger. The brooding sort offered a challenge that appealed to me—unfortunately. That was probably how I ended up with Jack. No one brooded better than he did when he didn’t get his way.