Page 5 of Cooking Up a Demon (Ghostlight Falls #5)

Chapter Five

Five

I ’m going to puke.

There’s no way around it. The butterflies in my stomach are intent on churning everything up. I pace the store again, checking and double checking that everything is where it should be.

It is. I’ve been over the store a hundred times, tweaking and adjusting with every pass. My heart is racing, and my palms are sweaty.

Delia was here earlier, helping me set up the last of the sideline items and generally trying to talk me down. But she left for her job at the baseball stadium, and I am trying not to freak the fuck out.

Trying and failing.

“It’s fine. It’ll be fine.” It doesn’t feel fine.

The grand re-opening of the bookstore is in fourteen hours, and every cell in my body is screaming at me to run. That I am absolutely insane for trying this. That nobody is going to come in, and I’ll spend the day sitting alone in the bookstore.

It doesn’t matter that dozens of people have stopped me around town to interrogate me on when the bookstore was opening again. To comment on the name change from Ghostlight Falls Books to For the Plot, which I thought was cute. Now I can’t help thinking it’s incredibly stupid.

I probably shouldn’t have reached out to local news networks to see if anyone would be interested in doing a story about the store to get some buzz going. No one confirmed they’d show up to the reopening and even if they did, the store would probably be empty.

Oh god, what was I doing?

I snag the bottle of tequila Delia gave me to celebrate the reopening off the counter and head into the backroom. There’s a single-serve container of orange juice in the mini-fridge. I gulp down enough to give me space to add the tequila straight to the bottle.

The second I do, smoke starts forming.

“No. Not tonight. Not now. Not my tequila!” I wave my hands at the smoke, trying to dissipate it before the demon can arrive. And then cry out when my hand hits something hard.

“Witch.” The demon says, grabbing my hand in his large clawed one. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s firm enough I know I’m not getting away either.

“Come on! You cannot tell me I summoned you with tequila and orange juice. That’s ridiculous.”

I yank on my hand, trying to free it from his grasp.

He doesn’t let go. He brushes his large thumb over my wrist, the claw scraping gently against the skin and giving me shivers.

Which I ignore. And was totally from fear of him cutting me open and not because the heat and abrasiveness of his skin feels good. Absolutely not.

“You call, I come. That is the bargain, witch.” He finally releases me, but the heat from his touch sears into my skin.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. My name is Bea. It’s not human, it’s not witch, it’s Bea.”

“That is an insect.” He scoffs and I grind my teeth.

“It also happens to be my name. Deal with it.” I flail my hands at him. “And I so did not summon you.”

“I don’t like it. What does it stand for?” His brow furls and I want to growl at him. Knowing it would sound like a kitten compared to his growling abilities, I keep the sound inside.

“Beatrix.” I bite out.

“Acceptable.” He props his fists on his hips like he’s won some battle instead of finding out my name.

“Oh, I’m so glad my name pleases you.” My tone is sugary sweet, but I’m pretty sure my glare would scare a lesser being. Unfortunately, I’m dealing with a giant demon and not some spineless human who would know enough to run from me.

“My name is Kallax.” He states the name proudly, as though it should mean something to me. When I don’t respond, his shoulders droop a little.

“I’d say nice to meet you, Kallax. But we both know it’s not. Now why are you here and how can I make you go away?” I shove my hands into the pocket of my hoodie and try not to feel bad about the way his shoulders sag.

Be so fucking serious, he’s a demon who keeps showing up, stealing my food and beverages, and stealing days off my life completely unrequested. Like, I have a reason to be upset by this.

“You needed me, so I am here. I’ll go away when you don’t need me any longer. That is my bargain. So tell me, Beatrix, how may I serve you?”

For one insane second, heat flashes through my body as I think of all the ways someone could serve me.

And then I get control of myself because this is a demon we’re talking about here and under no circumstances could I be lusting after a demon.

Even if he’s half naked, with abs for days, and leather pants showing off an almost alarming bulge.

Instead, I think about the store and the opening the next morning and all the ways I could fail. And just like that, the butterflies are back. I didn’t even realize they left.

I grab for the bottle of tequila and, since the orange juice is gone now, take a swig straight from the bottle.

“Bleh,” I say, sticking out my tongue and shudder at the burn of it as it goes down. It is a decent quality tequila, but I am not one to do straight shooters.

“It’s fine. Everything is fine. It’s all fine.” I chant, more to myself than Kallax. And then I take another swig because I’m fairly certain it is not all fine.

“Yes, you seem perfectly fine.” The sarcasm drips off every syllable. I point at him with the bottom of the bottle and scowl.

“I am fine. It’ll be great. It has to be.

” I storm out of the back room and into the main section of the bookstore.

The large, dark bookshelves that created all kinds of nooks and blind spots have been replaced with half-height shelves that give me a clear view from one end of the store to the other.

Everything is light, airy, pastel, and makes me happy.

I’m happy. Perfectly happy.

Except, for these damn butterflies trying to batter their way out of my stomach.

“You seem stressed. I could help you with that.” The demon, Kallax, says. He’s following me out of the back room, and I can feel the heat radiating off of him at my back.

“I think I’ve had enough of your help. I can’t believe I’m losing days off my life every time I try to make a damn drink or cup of soup.”

I take another drink of my tequila and spin around to glare at the demon at my back. Unfortunately, I’ve done about four shots of tequila in a matter of minutes on an empty stomach, and the room keeps spinning after I stop moving.

“Woah, there,” Kallax says, gripping my shoulders and holding me steady. After a moment he releases me and pries the bottle of tequila out of my hand. “I think you’ve had enough of this.”

Seeing as I’m swaying on my feet and the room is a little unsteady yet, he’s probably right. I want to argue with him. Just because I don’t want to agree with him.

“You’re not the boss of me. I can get drunk in my own store if I want to.” I don’t want to. I really, really don’t want to. Why am I arguing against my own best interest?

“Of course you can, love.” Kallax says as he herds me to the front of the store. “And after tomorrow, I’ll let you get as drunk as you like. But tonight, you need rest.”

I lean heavily against the counter as he moves around the store, making sure lights are off and doors are locked. When he wraps an arm around my waist the next time, I don’t fight him. I’m drunk and exhausted, and it feels nice to lean against him.

He’s warm and solid as he supports my weight. I can’t help myself, I run my hand down his side and across his abs. I expected him to feel like stone, but he doesn’t. Not really. And he’s almost unbearably warm.

Or maybe that’s the tequila talking. Either way, I give into the heavy pull of my eyelids for a moment and rest against him.

“Come on, time for bed.”

I blink my eyes open and nearly stumble as my bedroom comes into focus. “What? How?”

Kallax doesn’t answer my questions. He just nudges me toward the bed. When I don’t get in, he swoops me up and gently places me in the middle before moving down to take my boots off.

“Sleep.” He tugs the blanket out from under me and tucks me under it. It’s nice; to be cared for. I’ve forgotten.

“This doesn’t count,” I mumble, closing my eyes. “You can’t take my days.”

“As you wish.” There’s a warm brush against my forehead and then everything goes dark as I succumb to sleep.