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Inadequate

Gwen

W hen Gwen had regained some semblance of consciousness, she saw them.

Protruding angrily from the tender-looking wounds on Ambrosius’ forehead were two very tall, cyan horns.

Unusually smooth—though Gwen had no other horns to compare them to—and stained with inky blood.

A quick glance at Ambrosius’ face confirmed that his eyes were closed.

Naturally, Gwen couldn’t help herself.

Her hand lifted from bed to touch the unusual horns.

She nearly hissed at the unexpected heat that nipped at her fingers.

“Has anyone told you it’s inappropriate to touch someone at rest?”

Gwen stole a glance at his face.

The demon’s eyes were still shut, but she could feel his hand tighten against her lower back .

“You’re practically still inside me,” she snorted, running her fingers along the curved surface.

“Can you feel this?”

“As easily as you can feel someone touching your fingernails,” he huffed.

“I…” she trailed, biting her lip.

It was odd that she could sleep with a demon, but couldn’t summon the courage to ask the question bubbling in her mind.

The hand on her back lowered, and she squeaked when his fingers pinched the curve of her ass.

“Just ask, you silly girl.”

“ Fine ,” Gwen pouted.

“You said you weren’t a devil in the more … traditional sense. If that’s true then why…”

Slowly, Ambrosius’ dark lashes lifted, revealing the three eyes that Gwen had surprisingly grown fond of.

She found herself lost in the mixture of cyan and near black browns as those eyes stared at her face.

Whatever he was searching for—either with his vision or his ability to read minds—he must have found something in her that made him sigh in tired relentment.

“When I was young … for lack of a better word … I didn’t have these,” Ambrosius flicked his eyebrows up.

“And then one day, I did.”

Gwen frowned, glancing at the horns.

Ambrosius’ other hand curled against her back, fingers tracing along the band of her bra.

For once, Gwen didn’t press, as she knew he would clam up.

Instead, gently trailing her fingers across the weird keratin.

“I wasn’t even called Ambrosius then. I had a different name … one I’ve forgotten.” Ambrosius ran his tongue along his lower lip.

“But I remember I was very different. Malihinis came to the island and started sharing their … beliefs with the humans and, well … suddenly, I was different. Then more people came, and I kept changing. ”

Malihinis.

Strangers.

She hadn’t heard that word in decades, but the implication was there, and it left Gwen surprised.

When she had threatened to hit him on behalf of her ‘aumakua, Gwen hadn’t expected Ambrosius to understand her.

‘ Aumākua were ancestral spirits who took on the form of animals, plants, or even rocks in order to protect or guide their living families. Her language— their language—was endangered for a reason. Gwen was still clueless when it came to demons, but an awful thought came to mind.

“You’re like this … because of colonization?”

Ambrosius’ eyes flashed, cyan shining in the darkening room.

“Are you surprised? Even your name was chosen to please them. I loathe humans, my bittersweet. For many, many reasons,” he said with such malice, Gwen couldn’t help but shiver in fear.

“This is just one of them. And while I’ve come to accept that humans will continue to influence what I am, I refuse to let it happen uncontested. I’ve fought hard to keep this form from changing anymore.”

Is this why you have to be in control all the time?

Because humans hurt you?

Are demons just spirits who were harmed by our oppressors?

Are you like this because of us?

Without realizing it, Gwen had curled herself further into him.

She wanted to apologize, though Gwen wasn’t certain for what or why.

Certainly not for being difficult about the whole warlock thing, but…

Because she cared about him.

The thought frightened her more than anything she had witnessed since meeting him.

Yet Gwen couldn’t tear herself away.

She hadn’t planned on sleeping with him, but that simple act had changed her.

Changed them—at least things had changed for Gwen.

Not knowing where Ambrosius stood made her feel even more wobbly.

Unlike previous boyfriends, Ambrosius wasn’t so easy to understand.

He was complicated, stubborn, and guaranteed to piss her off again.

If that wasn’t difficult enough to navigate, there was also the whole demon daddy thing she had to contend with.

Gwen still didn’t know exactly what he had planned for her.

For them.

What are we?

The thought echoed in her mind, making her dizzy.

“I won’t touch them again, I promise,” Gwen murmured into his neck.

“How sweet ,” he taunted.

“Shut up. I’m trying to be nice. ”

“If I wanted nice, I would have taken the first doe-eyed, weak-willed human off the street. No, I knew what I was getting when I chose you,” Ambrosius hummed against the crown of her head.

“Why did you choose me?” Gwen asked, fingers playing with the lapel of his vest.

For a moment, she could only hear her own heart in her ears.

Gwen tried to taper it, but with every breath, it felt more and more uncontrollable.

When his hand tangled in her hair, pulling gently to tilt her face up to look at him, Gwen was certain her heart had stopped beating.

“Because I saw this in you. I saw a soul with the potential to become every wicked little thing I could imagine. Someone who could channel my will in my absence. You were aching to be freed of your mortal coil. The moment you stepped toward my door, I knew what you were. My bittersweet.”

It was a strange sort of praise that made Gwen grow warm.

While she still didn’t exactly understand how he could have seen that in her, Gwen found that it didn’t matter.

How his power worked, how it worked through her—did it really matter?

Gwen liked it—she liked him and how he felt against her.

Maybe they didn’t need a name just yet, maybe whatever this was couldn’t be defined?

Then why is a part of you so desperate to call him ‘boyfriend’?

Why do you want him to be yours?

“That’s a lot riding on one soul, Ambrosius. Especially someone like me. I’m sure I’ve failed to meet your expectations,” she said.

Gwen knew what she was doing even before the words left her mouth.

The fear of getting hurt again had risen above all other emotions, and now a part of her was desperately trying to create distance between them.

If she kept him at arm’s length, then it wouldn’t hurt when he inevitably didn’t want her anymore.

The same way all the people in her life had decided she wasn’t worth being around anymore.

Because Gwen was too …

Gwen.

“Maybe… but there’s a beauty in failure, and you’ve been entertaining, if anything else.”

“I’m amusing? ”

“Yes,” he grinned.

Gwen moved her hands to push off the bed, but Ambrosius’ grip was firm.

She scowled at him, to which that terrible grin only grew feral.

He was frustratingly hot for a fucked-up demon.

“But you’re also interesting, undeniably unique, and worth knowing.”

Praise—the kind that Gwen had unknowingly been desperate to hear for so long.

It hit her so hard that she was completely unprepared for the impact.

The emotion was too much, so Gwen kissed him.

Nonsensical. The way he made her feel was completely nonsensical.

One moment she was trying to keep him away, and now she wanted nothing more than to crawl into his mouth.

To be cradled within a jaw of razor-sharp teeth and a powerful tongue.

Gwen felt completely out of control, and needy as she pushed her own tongue behind rapidly sharpening teeth and—

Ambrosius jerked back.

A moment of panic swept through Gwen.

Had she misread something?

Had she been too much just now?

“Fuck,” he said, eyeing something behind her.

“ Fuck! ”

“What—”

Gwen let out a yelp as Ambrosius suddenly rolled them.

By the time her back hit the mattress, Ambrosius was already standing.

Gone were the horns, gore, and disheveled hair.

The demon looked no different than he had before their encounter, cane in hand.

Gwen pushed herself up, skates now firmly on the floor.

The stickiness of their encounter was now missing from her skin.

“I can give you ten minutes, but you won’t be able to stay for very long,” Ambrosius said.

“The store can barely tolerate two souls. I doubt it can handle three.”

“What—”

“Read the scroll—and don’t sass me, Gwendolyn. You’ll find it’ll be much easier to read now. The doll, on the other hand, might be where your real trouble begins, hmm?”

“But—”

A rough kiss was pressed to her mouth, silencing her questions before Ambrosius was suddenly near a vacant wall.

Gwen could have sworn that had been where she had entered.

There should have been a door with a teal handle there.

Where could it have gone?

“Remember to be good for Daddy , my bittersweet. I’m counting on you. ”

Gwen cursed as Ambrosius suddenly melted into the wall.

Why was he so damn evasive all the time?

Frustrated, Gwen spotted her discarded backpack crumpled near the bed.

She snatched the strap, lifting it onto the bed.

If reading the scroll meant getting a fucking straight answer for once, Gwen begrudgingly would do it.

Opening the backpack and reaching inside for the scroll, and promptly knocked her hand against something.

It felt like hair—much more than the doll had.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, I’m not doing this right now,” Gwen grumbled.

She wiggled her fingers past the hair and wrapped her fingers around the scroll case.

Once free, Gwen quickly pulled the parchment loose.

The moment she had, the dim candlelight in the room flared and revealed perfect text to her.

My bittersweet,

If you’re reading this, it means the clock has started ticking.

You wanted to know why I needed a warlock.

The answer, to put it simply, is because I’m trapped and the Antiquarium is my punishment.

It’s a place even more mysterious than I am.

Every item is haunted by a restless spirit that I must govern.

I am to spend eternity selling every single bonded object in this place, only for them to come back, and the cycle starts anew.

As part of this punishment, I can’t move outside of the Antiquarium unless I have a tether to the outside world.

You, my gorgeous girl, are that tether.

That day I manifested inside of your apartment, was the first time I had been outside of the Antiquarium in centuries.

For a moment, I was able to breathe again, so you can imagine my disappointment when you simply wanted to waste away inside.

Our bond is still weak.

I can’t move as freely as I would like.

In order to do so, our connection needs to be stronger.

You carry the Mark of a Demon, and I have given you the Aspect of a Demon, but in order to fully cement our bond, you must fulfill the Soul Covenant.

Which brings us to the doll.

If you complete the doll, you will be bonded to me forever.

I know you hate the thought, but it is not without rewards.

Like I said, I can be generous to those who are good to me.

And you were awfully good to me just now, weren’t you?

My mouth is watering just thinking about it.

I can’t teach you how to wield your particular talent for feeding, but I can gift you things you may find useful.

Things that make it easier to go unseen, things that allow you to keep those who wish you harm at a distance.

And maybe things you haven’t seen in quite some time …

When you go home, lay this scroll in the spider nest and wait.

They’ll know what to do.

Your first gift will be waiting there.

Perhaps if you like it, you might consider finishing the doll.

The Antiquarium will disappear in three days.

I can already feel it loosening its hold in this place.

Where it will turn up next, I don’t know.

I could be in California or I could be in Bangkok.

But make no mistake, my bittersweet.

Even if you refuse me, I’ll never leave.

One way or the other, I will be there.

Lurking over your shoulder, hiding beneath your bed until you are old and gray.

And even when you become just a memory, I’ll still be there.

You will never be rid of me.

So, what will you do, Gwen?

Will you accept my gifts—accept me?

Or will you continue to live in the shadow of your humanity?

Like I said when we met, It’s entirely up to you whether you accept it or not.

But you have to choose. -A.