Page 41 of Demon

“Give me that towel,” I grumbled, snatching it from him.

His hearty chuckles slowed to a hiccupped giggle, crease lines pulling in the corner of his eyes and around his mouth. I stood for a moment, watching. He looked different when he was happy. His face was more peaceful, not the angry glare in his eyes, his darkened soul eased by the sudden burst of laughter. The cold, hardened mask he always wore made him look his age. But now, with the stupid grin on his face, watching me secure the towel around my body, gave him a boyish look I don’t remember seeing.

I cocked my head to the side, studying him again, like it was the first time I’d seen him. And if I had seen him like this that very first time, instead of the raging arsehole, maybe I might have felt this sudden pressure in my chest. This feeling that I wanted to grasp and not let go. This feeling that would likely destroy me and that I couldn’t hope for, because everyone and life let me down. I shook my head.

“What?” Demon asked, the hint of a laugh still in his voice.

“You know, sometimes you’re quite likable.”

“Really?”

“Maybe. When you smile. Maybe you should try it more often. Makes you look less of a dick.”

He smiled again. Big and wide, lighting up his face and shining in his eyes. OK, heart, that was enough of the gooey shit. I moved past him, stepping carefully on the wet floor, and still slipping as my damp foot moved across the old, smooth floor tiles of the dressing rooms.

“Anyway,” Demon’s voice grumbled from behind me, “you haven’t told me what’s up with using these showers.”

“There’s no hot water at home. The electricity and gas have been off since the weekend.”

“Five days? How come?”

“Stingy Stu hasn’t paid the bill again.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he hasn’t paid it. So, the gas and electricity have been cut off.”

“What the actual fuck?” Demon’s face straightened, his brow furrowing, darkness filling his eyes. The next time he spoke, his tone was cold. “Why didn’t you tell me, Ciara?”

“I have. I’m telling you now.”

“You should have told me the minute it had happened.”

“And what would you have done?”

“Spoken to that landlord of yours for a fucking start.”

“It’ll make no difference. Stu has been like this forever. He’ll pay the bill soon. He’s probably gone on holiday and spent the cash on that instead.”

“You pay your rent in cash?”

“Yep. Everyone in there does. Most of them couldn’t get anything legit because of bad rep, drugs, or because they shouldn’t be in the country at all.”

“You don’t look like any of them, Ciara,” Demon said softly now, his fingers stroking over the damp skin of my shoulders.

“Yeah, well, he never asked for documentation or my full name. They’re unlikely to find me.”

The words had slipped out. This moment with Demon in the changing rooms, my heart beating that little harder just being near him, and clearly the blood had run away from my brain.

“Who, Ciara?”

Fuck.

“No one relevant anymore.”

Demon raised his hand, the movement a little too sudden, and I winced, shutting my eyes and holding my breath instinctively. The touch was soft, the tips of his fingers gently teasing over the damaged flesh. Even months down the line, just touching it fired up hot tingles under the scar, the skin and nerve endings nervous in anticipation of further damage.

“Who, Ciara? Tell me. I know they did this to you.”