Page 25

S tay.

The word hung in the room, a simple command that struck me with the force of a physical blow. My wrist burned beneath her touch, her fingers pressing against my pulse point where no doubt she could feel the sudden spike in my heartbeat.

I had planned to give her space, to retreat as I'd done last night. To maintain the careful distance I'd been trying, and failing, to establish since the moment I'd felt the bond snap into place between us.

But she'd asked me to stay.

Demons are creatures of possession and dominance. We take. We claim. We mark. But to be invited? To be wanted rather than feared or obeyed? The sensation was unfamiliar enough to leave me momentarily speechless.

"Of course," I managed, my voice rougher than I intended.

I settled back into my seat beside her, hyperaware of every place our bodies nearly touched, her elbow almost grazing mine, the edge of her knee centimeters from my thigh under the table.

The breakfast continued around us, but I registered little beyond the burning awareness of her proximity and the lingering echo of that single word.

Stay.

More intimate, somehow, than if she'd pulled me into a kiss. More dangerous too. A kiss I could have resisted, could have filed away as mere physical attraction. But this reaching for me not in passion but in need, in trust, was a weakness I hadn't anticipated.

Rita leaned across the table, pulling Rosie into conversation, something about Jan's sudden change of heart and speculation about what had triggered my mate's father to finally grow a spine.

I nodded at appropriate intervals, offering bland responses when directly addressed, but my attention remained fixed on Rosie.

The warm morning light caught in her hair, illuminating strands of copper and gold amid the deeper red.

Her pulse fluttered visibly at the base of her throat, a delicate rhythm that stirred ancient instincts.

I wanted to press my lips there, to feel her lifeblood rushing beneath my touch.

I wanted to sink my teeth into that soft flesh and mark her as mine for all to see.

Mine. The word reverberated through me, a primal claim I had no right to make. Not yet. Not when she still didn't know what she truly was to me.

I'd run last night because I'd come too close to telling her everything.

I'd run because I was a coward.

Because if I told her the truth, that fate had bound us irrevocably together, that she was meant to be mine for eternity, she'd think it was just another trick. Another demonic contract. Another way to take away her choice .

And I couldn't bear to see fear or revulsion replace the warmth in her eyes when she looked at me now.

"..Don't you think, Aldaine?"

I blinked, realizing Rita had addressed me directly. "I'm sorry?"

The woman's eyes twinkled knowingly. "I was just saying that you and Rosie make quite the striking couple. I've never seen her so radiant."

"Rita!" Rosie protested, a blush spreading across her cheeks. The color was enchanting, making the constellation of freckles across her nose stand out in sharp relief.

"What? It's true. He looks at you like you hung the moon. Don't think I haven't noticed." She winked at me conspiratorially. "You hold onto this one, Rosie. Men who look at women that way are rare creatures indeed."

I should have denied it. Should have played it off with a casual joke or deflection. Instead, I found myself meeting Rita's gaze steadily. "She makes it easy," my voice quiet.

Rosie's sharp intake of breath was audible only to me. From the corner of my eye, I saw her fingers tighten around her coffee cup.

Breakfast concluded shortly after, with most guests dispersing to prepare for the day's activities. Some mentioned planned excursions into town, others discussed the bridal shower the next day. Through it all, Rosie remained at my side, her presence a constant, burning awareness.

When the dining room had emptied save for a few lingering guests, she turned to me, eyes bright with a mixture of emotions I couldn't fully decipher.

"Would you like to go for a walk?" she asked. "There's a beautiful garden path that leads down to the edge of the forest. It's quiet." The last word carried weight, an unspoken acknowledgment that we needed privacy for whatever would come next .

"Lead the way," I rose from my seat and offered her my hand.

She hesitated only briefly before placing her palm against mine. The simple contact sent a jolt of electricity up my arm, the mating bond humming with approval. I curled my fingers around hers, savoring the softness of her skin, the delicate bones beneath.

We slipped out through a side door onto a stone terrace bathed in late morning sunlight.

The air was crisp with autumn's approach, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and distant woodsmoke.

Rosie guided me down a set of shallow steps to a gravel path bordered by late-blooming roses and carefully pruned hedges.

"I used to hide out here as a teenager," her voice soft with remembrance. "The gardener, Mr. Finch, would pretend not to notice me curled up with a book in one of the alcoves when Jan was on the warpath."

I tried to picture her younger self, seeking refuge among the flowers, and found my chest tightening with an unfamiliar ache.

"It sounds like you found allies where you could," I squeezed her hand.

She nodded, a small smile playing at her lips. "Mr. Finch and Cook. The staff saw more than my father ever did. Or at least, they saw and weren't afraid to acknowledge it."

The path wound deeper into the gardens, through an arbor heavy with purple wisteria, past a small ornamental pond. I could feel Rosie gradually relaxing beside me, some of the tension from the breakfast confrontation easing from her shoulders.

Finally, the manicured gardens gave way to a wilder space. A small clearing at the forest's edge where a bench had been placed beneath the spreading branches of an ancient oak. The bench faced away from the house, offering a view of the woods and the rolling hills beyond.

Rosie led me to it, dropping my hand as she settled onto the weathered wood. I sat beside her, careful to maintain a sliver of space between us despite every instinct screaming to pull her closer.

For several minutes, we sat in silence. I could sense her gathering her thoughts, working up to whatever it was she needed to say, and I waited, forcing myself to be patient despite the restless energy coursing through me.

"Why did you really run last night?"

The question, when it finally came, was direct but gentle. Without accusation. Just a simple query that deserved an honest answer I wasn't sure I could give.

I stared out at the tree line, watching a red-tailed hawk circle lazily overhead.

"It's complicated," I finally answered.

"Try me."

I turned to look at her then, really look at her.

The morning light filtered through the oak leaves, dappled her skin with shifting patterns of gold.

Her green eyes were clear and direct, holding mine without fear or artifice.

In that moment, she was so beautiful it was almost painful to behold her.

"There are things about me, about what I am, that you don't know," I carefully chose my words. "Things that might change how you see me."

She laughed, a soft, rueful sound. "Aldaine, you're a demon I summoned from a book I bought at a old bookstore. I don't think there's much that could shock me at this point."

If only she knew.

"It's not that simple." I ran a hand through my hair, frustration mounting. "What happened between us, what's happening, it's not just the contract."

Her expression sobered. "I know that. "

"Do you?" I was suddenly desperate for her to understand, even if I couldn't bring myself to speak the full truth. "Do you understand what it means to be involved with someone like me? The danger of it? The permanence?"

She shifted toward me on the bench, eliminating the careful space I'd maintained between us. Her knee pressed against mine, and she reached out, her warm fingers coming to rest on my forearm.

"I don't," she admitted quietly. "Not completely. But I want to."

The simple honesty in her voice threatened to undo me.

"Last night," I began, the words feeling torn from somewhere deep within me, "I almost told you everything. Almost showed you what you truly are to me. But I was afraid."

Her eyebrows rose in genuine surprise. "You? Afraid?"

"Even demons know fear, Rosie." I covered her hand with mine, unable to resist the contact any longer. "Especially when we stand to lose something precious."

Her pulse jumped under my fingers, her breath catching audibly. "And what would that be?"

"You," It was simple. "Your trust. Your choice in all this."

She was quiet for a long moment, her gaze searching mine.

"Whatever it is you're not telling me, I can wait until you're ready.

I just," She paused, swallowing visibly.

"I need you not to shut me out. Not to run away again.

Because whatever this is between us, it's not just the contract for me either.

I know it's fast, maybe insane, but I've started having feelings for you, Aldaine. "

The admission hung in the air between us, honest and vulnerable and more powerful than any summoning spell could ever be.

"I've only known you a little while," she continued, voice growing stronger, "but I feel like I've been waiting for you my entire life. And that terrifies me, but not enough to stop. "

Something inside me, the last thread of restraint, snapped cleanly in two.

In one fluid motion, I pulled her to me, one hand tangling in her hair, the other gripping her waist. Her gasp was swallowed by my mouth as I claimed her lips in a kiss that was nothing like the gentle exploration we'd shared before.

This was hunger, raw and unfiltered, the full force of a demon's desire no longer held in check.