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CHAPTER THREE: OPENING BID - PART TWO
Azel held the apartment building’s door open for Harri, watching her walk out into the snow bright day. She was nervous. He could see it in the tension gripping her shoulders and in the way she clutched her cardboard travel mug tightly with both hands.
Not to humble brag, but it wasn’t a reaction he was used to getting. Even without using any demonic intervention, humans were naturally drawn to creatures like him. Sure, there were those who desperately shied away from him, out of defiant willpower or fear of falling.
But she wanted this. Wanted him. Not only could he feel it, her palatable attraction pulling at him like a magnet, but she’d willingly agreed to his deal. They were actively creating a contract. So why was she so skittish? Why did her desire to run seem to rival the ones beckoning — begging — him nearer?
He’d have to figure that out. After all, that was part of his job now, right? To find ways to lure her closer. To at least make it look like they were in love.
Speaking of which. Azel snuck a glance up at the set of windows next to Harri’s, smiling as he spotted the slight, unnaturally peeking part in the curtains. Yeah, he’d known the ex — Nate — was watching, both now and in the hallway, could feel the man’s jealousy burn the closer Azel got to Harri.
Good.
Grinning, Azel stretched out his wings, letting their impressive span spread to block the wind as they encircled him and Harri. “You look cold.”
“I’m fine.” She shook her head as he snorted at her shivering. “Really, I am. I just need to get used to it.”
He shrugged. “If you say so.” He would never understand why people said they were fine when they really weren’t. It truly was the most useless word. Fine. Whenever said, it hardly ever actually meant fine. But he supposed that wasn’t really his problem. It gave him the excuse to wrap his wings around her, blocking them from the ex’s view, letting the man stew in thoughts of what they might be doing.
Harri looked around herself at the thin, leathery bat-like wings surrounding her with wary fascination. “You’re the one without a coat,” she pointed out, frowning. “Aren’t you cold? I’d think winter would be harder for you.”
He chuckled as he watched those curtains swiftly shut, before looking out at the glittering, freshly fallen snow covering the ground. “Hell isn’t all fire and brimstone, you know.” He took a sip of his coffee. “There are plenty of places that are barren, tempestuous, or even frigid.” He shrugged, his chest puffing out smugly as he thought about the nosy man stewing behind his curtains. “Demons are built to be able to survive in all kinds of unlivable conditions, so I don’t ever really get cold or warm. I can feel the weather, obviously; it just doesn’t really affect me one way or another.”
She frowned. “So then why did you have a coat on before? In the restaurant.”
He shifted his shoulders slightly, causing his wings to twitch a bit. “How’s your coffee? Did I get your order right?”
Harri looked down at the steaming cup still held in her hands as if she’d forgotten it. She took a quick sip before taking another slower, more savoring one. The steam fogged up her glasses, hiding the delicious delight in her eyes. “Yes, you did; it’s great. Thanks.” She took one more sip before peeking up at him with a wince. “Was it rude of me to ask? I’m sorry.”
With a wry smile, he shook his head. “You’re fine.” He sighed and pursed his lips, feeling his fangs prick the inside of his mouth. “My wings make people uncomfortable and I can’t really hide them.” He shrugged. “But I can make them… a little less visible.” A little less in everyone’s face. He had a closet full of oversized coats for every season and hats to cover his horns. Having been in the human world this long, he’d found there were plenty of times and places where it just made his life easier to be… less. Less out in the open. Less demonic. Less himself.
He arched an eyebrow at Harri’s subtle glances over her shoulder at his wings. He could feel her curiosity almost like a caress. She wanted to touch them, to touch him, but he knew she’d never ask. She was too shy, too reserved, too polite. He wondered what it would take to make her a little less so. To let herself be a little more brave. “You can touch them, if you want.”
She pursed her lips together tightly and gripped her cup with both hands. “I don’t—” She shut her eyes. “I mean, I didn’t mean—” She shook her head. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
He wanted to let out a laugh. As an incubus, he’d literally been created to fulfill people’s most unspoken desires. He was a being of lust and temptation, whose mere existence stirred the most profane longing inside a person; he’d never met anyone — not a nervous virgin or crusading priest — so reluctant to touch him before. And to be so on his behalf, worried more for his comfort than their consequences or conquests… Yeah, that was a new one. He felt the seductive curve of his lips soften as he stared at her. “I wouldn’t have offered, if I wasn’t okay with it.”
Her gaze flickered down, her lashes shielding her eyes, as she worried her lip in a way he knew meant, at some point in her life, Harri had. He frowned, knowing people — especially women — often offered parts of themselves to others less because they truly wanted to than because they knew it would please their partners. That kind of pressure could make the intimate act of coming together feel terribly isolating.
He swallowed hard and shot her a sympathetic glance. “Just to reiterate, I will never touch you or do anything to you — or ask anything of you — that you don’t ask for first.” He shrugged. “But, for me, as long as it pleases you, there is nothing — no act or touch — I won’t welcome.” His kind literally fed off the pain and pleasure, the lack and overwhelming release, of others.
“Nothing?” She narrowed her gaze skeptically. “So if it pleased me to stab you, you’d be okay with that?”
Arching an eyebrow, he gave her a teasing look. “You wouldn’t be the first.”
Her eyes widened in horrified shock. “Seriously?”
He chuckled at her reaction. “Most people who make demonic deals with those like me are people who have desires they don’t think they can share with other people. Mostly because of shame or fear.” He lifted a nonchalant shoulder. “But, sometimes, some people want things… best shared with those better equipped to survive them.”
She frowned at him worriedly. “And you enjoyed it?”
He gave her a reassuring smile. “I… enjoyed their enjoyment.” He laughed when she made an unsure, noncommittal sound. She was kind to worry for him, but it was beyond unnecessary. He was what he was, and the complexities of that was something he didn’t think he could adequately explain and he was sure she — as a fragile human mortal — would never really understand. So, instead he chuckled and tilted his head. “So not planning to stab me then?”
She shook her head vehemently. “I don’t think I’d enjoy that at all.”
No, he was sure she wasn’t the type to. “But you’d enjoy touching my wings.” It wasn’t a question.
She bit her lip and looked behind her shoulder again with more open longing. As if she’d somehow become much more comfortable with her own smaller, simpler desires, after having heard the larger demands others had made. He’d never been one to judge people’s desires, always figuring that one wanted what they wanted, and better to explore that with him — who got as much if not more out of the deal — than with some unsuspecting person. And, if it helped Harri accept her own wants more, that was fine with him.
She shrugged, still so adorably unsure. “I’d like to, if you’d like it.”
He nodded. “I’d like it.” Probably more than he should. Yes, there was an internal, infernal part of him that salivated at the prospect of both momentarily fulfilling while eternally fueling her temptation. After all, few knew better than he did that wanting one thing often led to wanting another and another and another in an endlessly craving cycle.
But he also felt his body tingle at the promise of her skin on his. He imagined her tentative hand shyly stroking him, her fingertips warm against his chilled wings. He could picture the fascination that would flood her eyes. Could practically hear the delight that would rasp her voice. He could feel his own unwise want well up inside him, making him feel bolder than he ought to be. “I’d like it a lot.”
And why shouldn’t he? He was a demon, after all. Pleasure was a perk of his job, and shouldn’t everyone be so lucky to love what they do for a living? “So what do you say, Harri? I want you to touch me;” he leaned in, closing his wings around them, as he whispered in her ear, “what do you want?”
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