“But you recognised me when I walked through the door?” he asked, trying to get his bearings.
“Yes.”
“And you’re a daemon from another realm but also a professor of theological history and mythology?”
“Yes.” I leave out the part where I rule my kingdom of the daemon realms for fear he might combust. “Any other questions?”
He finally meets my gaze from beneath long painted lashes, and I gulp. Where does he get that beauty from?
“Why?”
I look away, blink for a moment, and try my best to think up an answer. “Well . . . in truth, you weren’t supposed to be there and I’d had a long day and . . .” I wipe a stressed hand down my face. This isn’t going at all well. “It’s not uncommon for an occasional human to become enthralled by a daemon, but it’s been a while since it’s happened to me. I may have taken advantage of your state that night. I apologise for my behaviour.”
“Sorry . . .” He looks lost for words. “You’re sorry for the best orgasm I’ve ever had?”
“Well, maybe not sorry for the skill, but certainly for the lack of communication.” I drop the entire glamour and watch his eyes widen in surprise and adoration and something else. Lust.
He stands up, having lost the anxiety riddling him earlier, and leans over the desk, the open button on his shirt allowing me a full view of his soft skin beneath. “If you’d like a repeat, I’m open for it.”
Just like that? “Is there nothing you’d like in return? Don’t humans usually require some sort of ... reciprocation or payment?”
He frowns, a deep scowl settling over his features. “I’m not a prostitute.”
“Oh, umm . . . that’s not what I . . .” Before I could finish the sentence, he storms out of the office, leaving the door wide open in his wake.
Shit.
He’s buying a coffee at the Starbucks on campus like he does every Monday morning, and every time I watch from a bench perfectly situated to gaze at the queue from a distance, something inside me stirs. Something that feels like longing and dark desire mixed into a volatile mixture ready to explode.
He brings the lidded cup to his pink lips and takes his first sip, then lets out a small sigh of satisfaction before he hustles toward the Farlow building for his early morning lecture. I don’t follow. Not today. I have another engagement I have to rip myself away from my newfound addiction to attend.
A half hour later, Rhysus looks up at me from the diner’s corner booth with a smirk on his human mask. “Don’t you smell delightful, Your Majesty.”
“Don’t,” I growl, keeping my voice low. I move the second plate of pancakes with bananas, maple syrup, and whipped cream toward me as I slide into the red bench seat. “How have you been?”
“Busy.”
For the first time, I look past the smirk to the tired eyes and the drained soul behind them. My general is exhausted. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Our borders grow more unstable every time they attack the shield. And this research for the department is taking so much of my time, I can’t think straight.” He shakes his head and runs a hand through the blonde hair. “Enough of that crap, though.” He looks at me beneath chaotic lashes with a knowing smile. “I know that scent. You’ve found him, haven’t you?”
“I ... don’t know,” I whisper. Despondent but honest. “He feels stronger than most, and I feel more ... connected to the little human. But how do I know?”
“You’re asking the wrong daemon, Your Majesty. I am unfamiliar with mating.”
As a tanton daemon from the outlying districts, he’s less likely to find a mate in the same way as me and my kin. The curse is strong with the tanton. But not unbreakable.
Pain flashes across his face before his mask slips back on and that smile returns. “Maybe you could simply spend more time with him and find out. Ask him out on a date?”
I suddenly find the pancake stack the most interesting thing in the room, despite my lacking appetite.
Rhysus sighs. “What did you do?”
I recount our past conversation, shame drenching my features. “I should have handled it better, I know.”
“Let me get this straight. You accused your potential mate of being a prostitute and tried “purchasing” his services instead of asking him on a date?”
“It sounds worse when you put it like that!”