Page 20 of Demon Heart: The Complete Series

B y the time I got home, I was ready to smack the shit out of the demon if I saw his face again. Use him like a punching bag, teach him a lesson for tying me up, thinking he could treat me like that.

“Fucking demons,” I muttered, making myself a much-needed cup of chamomile tea.

“You okay?” Darcy asked, sitting on the kitchen table.

I scowled down at him. “Didn’t you notice me getting kidnapped?”

“You were kidnapped?”

Man, Xavier was good.

The tea could’ve done with a splash of whiskey. “I guess you were too caught up in Bruce Springsteen.”

“He’s The Boss.”

I grunted, taking my tea to my armchair.

He ran after me, his little feet pattering on the floor. “Who kidnapped you?”

“Our new demon friend.”

Darcy released a super squeak similar to a dog whistle. “He did what?”

“Kidnapped me. Keep up.”

“How? Why? The knob!”

I plugged in my hand massager, the relief better than sex.

I explained what happened, actually cooling down rather than reaching stratospheric levels of fury.

“Bit elaborate,” Darcy said. His nose twitched. “Why were you at the palace?”

Whoops. Now what?

“You don’t have to tell me, Roman,” he countered. “Your business is your own. I’ve always assumed your job wasn’t normal and pretty secretive.”

“It is.”

“I know. Keep up.”

“Touché.”

“You know it.”

“I really can’t tell you.”

“Then say no more, Mr. Gold. No judgments here.”

“You’re such a sweetheart.”

“I know.”

I gave him some treats.

“But you’re okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Click the TV on, see if the riot is on the news.”

A split screen showed guests arriving at Westminster Abbey for King Lawrence’s birthday memorial service in the left half, and absolute chaos from the street in Wood Green on the right.

Many of the buildings were ablaze, the street still packed with people, both fighting and injured.

The scorpion demons were nowhere to be seen.

“Bloody hell!” Darcy said. “Glad you got out of there.”

“Me too.”

“Not good for the anti-demon movement.”

“Absolutely not.”

Eventually, after two more cups of tea, the riot story moved to a different channel while the service for the late king got underway.

Hymns, blessings, readings, the queen watching on with shades covering her eyes. Princess Piper got up to share memories of her dad, many sniffles punctuating her speech.

“He loved to fish,” she said after taking a wobbly pause.

“His favorite spot was at Balmoral, and he always tried to take me and my brother along whenever he could. I didn’t particularly enjoy the act, but it wasn’t about the fish, the bait, or knowing how to cast a line.

It was about spending time together, the quiet moments between the catches, the talks about our favorite books, art, the future.

” A second pause. “He loved Wilfred and I so much, held so many dreams for us while also granting us the freedom to reach for our own stars. I miss those fishing trips so much. I would give anything to be by his side again, waiting for a nibble.”

“So sad,” Darcy said.

The camera flicked back over to Queen Margarite, her expression unchanging, not one drop of emotion so much as twitching in her face. Being queen, I suppose it was hard to show emotion in public.

“What do you think’s going through her mind?” Darcy asked.

“Who?”

“The queen.”

King Basile’s impending demise . “It must be so hard for her.”

“Defo.”

The service finally came to an end an hour later, the queen and crown princess bearing tall candles to be placed at the public shrine outside the abbey. A place for King Lawrence’s subjects to light their own candles, sign an ever-changing book of condolences.

“Beautiful,” the rat declared. “Long, but fitting.”

“Yeah.” With the distraction over, my mind focused on tonight, on how to end Keith and those blackmailing silver pricks. Xavier’s help was clearly off the table, so I had to go in for a full cleanup.

That potential video was the hurdle.

Yeah, potential was a good word for it. It could all be nothing but a fake out.

Fingers crossed.

I left Darcy to watch a Hugh Jackman movie, taking my hand massager to my room. I needed some quiet time to recuperate and scheme.

As soon as I parked my backside on my bed, there was a knock on my front door.

Oh, someone had bypassed the entrance door downstairs. I wonder who that could be.

Ha! Sarcasm at its finest. I knew which eight-legged prick would be standing there.

My eye on the peephole confirmed my not-so-mysterious suspicions. Xavier stood there clutching a bunch of red roses. Clothed again.

I opened the door, ready to deliver an uppercut. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been thinking?—”

I slammed the door in his face.

He knocked again.

I opened the door, completely flustered. “What do you want?”

“To apologize.”

“Go fall down a well.”

“Harsh.”

“Pertinent.”

He smirked, which got him a door slam.

“Please, Roman,” he said. “I’m really sorry about what I did to you.”

I glowered at the door. “Go away.”

“If that’s what you want.”

I flung the door open. “Roses? Really? Knocking on my door as if you give a fuck about privacy and respect. You crawled in and bit me, chained me up. Why don’t I close this door again and you can sneak in on your tiny eight legs?

See if you can avoid my stamping.” I gripped the door, ready to slam it again.

But I held back, the air suddenly deflating out of my bravado.

“Look, I get why you did it. You were being cautious after seeing me go into the palace. But you could have just asked me rather than stalk and kidnap me.”

“Would you have told me the real truth?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry.”

Why did he have to come across so sexy-cute? “Get inside.”

His eyes brightened. “May I really?”

I stepped aside. “Get in before I change my mind.”

He entered my hallway, the cellophane wrapping on the roses crinkling. “Thank you, Roman.”

What a shift from scary captor to friendly flat guest.

I folded my arms, body language deliberately defensive. “I’m an idiot for letting you in.”

“I won’t hurt you. I didn’t hurt you.”

True. He didn’t. “I can’t really say I feel betrayed because I don’t know you. But I do feel crapped on. And I still might hurt you.”

The demon held out the pretty roses. “A peace offering.”

“You’re assuming I like roses.”

“Look at the red,” he purred. “Isn’t it the most vibrant hue you have ever seen?”

And they smelled divine. But I shrugged, keeping up the indifference.

“Shall I put them in water?” he asked.

“Why are you here?”

“To apologize.”

I grunted, unsure if I should drive my dagger into his neck.

“Are you hurt?” he said.

“What?”

“From the riot,” he clarified.

“No. I’m fine. Hands are on fire, though.”

“I’m sorry I left you behind.”

“If you say sorry one more time, I’ll explode.”

“Messy.”

“Don’t joke with me.”

His face contorted into serious angles. “This is no joke. I’m here to mend bridges and tackle our problem.”

“Oh?”

“You helped me, now I help you. I’m not going to run away.”

A strange flutter came to my chest after hearing that. “Why?”

“An eye for an eye, Roman.”

Bit extreme. “Well, thanks for coming back, I suppose.”

“Please take the flowers.”

“I liked it better when I was slamming the door in your face.” I took the flowers. “I’m not big on these things.”

“Peaceful gestures?”

Was I making a mistake here? Had I just opened myself up to something bad? Although, if he wanted to get in here, locking doors wouldn’t stop him.

“At least you found a T-shirt,” I said.

White, clinging to his muscles, erect nipples pressing against the fabric.

“Yes,” he replied, glancing down at himself.

“Shall we have a cup of tea?” I suggested.

“That would be nice.”

“I—”

Tiny feet running, a chorus of angry squeaks.

“Get away from him!” Darcy cried, my knight in white fur.

Xavier stepped back, trying to hide his amusement.

“It’s okay, Darcy.”

“My teeth might be tiny, but I’ll still tear you apart.” He attacked Xavier’s boot.

“Heel, Darcy,” I said.

“Never!”

“You’ll only wear yourself out.”

The rat spun, dashing up my leg, pausing at my waist, tiny paws clinging to my sweater. “Arsehole,” he squeaked at Xavier, then climbed to my shoulder.

I rubbed his tiny head with my finger. “He’s not wrong.”

Did the demon just swallow a laugh? “I really am sorry, Roman. Darcy. I went about things the wrong way.”

“Damn right you did,” Darcy retorted.

“Forget about it,” I interjected. “Line drawn.” If Xavier were anyone else, they’d be dead or missing some fingers. But I needed him for tonight, and I wasn’t about to look that gift horse in the mouth.

“I won’t forget,” the rat added.

Honestly, neither would I. “One more false move and we’re done.”

“So done,” Darcy said. “I’m done now, but Roman’s the boss.”

“I’m not the boss.”

“Then why are you so bossy?”

Xavier smiled as I poked my friend gently in the side. “Cheeky.”

“Truthful.”

“Oh, I see. You’re looking to cut the white chocolate treats from your diet.”

“Is that a threat?”

“More like a promise if you keep skipping down this path.”

His laugh was like a squeaky toy lodged in the throat. “I’d like to see me skip.”

I laughed with him, the tension easing until I met Xavier’s enticing eyes again.

“Let’s talk,” I said, making a bit of a squeak myself.

“Can you put me back with my movie, please?” Darcy said.

“Why can’t you go yourself?”

“Please,” he whined. “My poor little legs are worn out from defending your honor.”

“My fluffy hero.”

I put him back and gave him some treats.

“Thanks. I’m right here if you need me.”

“Noted.”

Xavier waited for me in the hallway, his hands in the pockets of his slim-fit jeans, showing off his powerful thighs, outlining the generous size of his cock.

Maybe he should think about wearing a different style of jeans.

“Tea?” I asked again.

“Yes, please.”

He followed me into the kitchen.

“Have a seat.” I gestured to one of the two chairs at my table, alert to any move he might make on me.

“I’d rather stand,” he responded.

“Suit yourself.”