Any Way I Can Have You

 

Sincerest Form

I felt my form flicker as my adventurer sat down on the bed, methodically removing his armor and boots. Piece by piece, Rhett peeled back layers until he was left in just a simple tunic and trousers. He looked softer, smaller, than I’d come to know him while, for a month or more, we’d made our way through the labyrinth. Of course, I’d known the metal plates and leather bindings hadn’t been part of his body. I’d seen the dungeon’s monsters scrape and scratch and attempt to rend those coverings that kept his true body safe.

Well, its other monsters.

“Mim?”

The sound of the name he’d given me still seemed strange, after a lifetime of not having one. Of not having anyone who had any reason to call me anything.

Again, my form quivered anxiously, the mutable flesh rippling as if struggling to hold the shape it’d chosen. Which was fair. As a mimic, I’d never maintained a single form this long. But Rhett seemed to like it. I’d seen him admire it many times as we moved through the barely lit halls. Had seen his gaze linger on the statue I’d stolen it from in the first place, back when he’d been just another faceless adventurer and I’d been nothing more than one more danger waiting in the dark. 

Except Rhett hadn’t been yet another hero. I’d tried to lure him, like I had with others before, hiding as a chest that could have been filled with anything at all, the mystery and potential typically enough to tempt most. But he’d walked right past. 

So I’d transformed into treasure, a pile of gold and jewels, glittering and irresistible. Most gloryseekers who’d come before had fallen for that form. Even I knew how enticing I looked like that, all bold colors and sleek shapes. It begged a person to run their hands over and through it, to claim it — any part they could — as their own.

But Rhett hadn’t.

He’d just kept making his way through the dungeon’s dangers. I should have left him to it. Yet I’d followed him. Trying form after form after form in a desperate attempt to draw his attention. And with each new one, I’d wondered why. What was it about this hero that made me want to take and keep more of him than what it took to survive? I had to know. Looking at him now, vulnerable and laid bare on that bed, I still needed to know.

He tilted his head, his hazel eyes studying me in the soft lamplight. “You look confused.” He held out his hand to me. “Remember what we talked about? If you want something, you need to ask me. I can’t answer, until you ask.”

Right. The labyrinth had an ecosystem, a society of sorts. A hierarchical structure informed by instincts and honed by survival skills of strength or stealth. But, out here in the wider world, they used words. They talked. Less efficient but, I supposed, it had the possibility of being more precise. 

I swallowed, feeling the parts of me that had formed vocal chords. “Why did we leave the labyrinth?” Why had we come here? To this inn, where I could hear the sounds of humans and elves and other word-wielders through the thin, improbably penetrable walls. They were everywhere. Interacting with one another always. A constant stream of their noise had surrounded me, smothering me, at all times ever since we’d stepped foot into this town of his.

He frowned. “I told you; I’d gone to the labyrinth to defeat the horde of demons that had been destabilizing the dungeon and threatening the neighboring towns.” He lifted his shoulder, the one he’d injured in battle, in a ginger roll of the aching joint. “After we took them down, I had no reason to stay.”

I looked away, the corners of my lips falling and my brow wrinkling without my permission. 

“Mim?”

I shook my head, forcing my face to steady. To remain the beautiful, marblesque form Rhett loved.

“Mim,” he said as he stood, taking my hand in his, “we couldn’t stay there. You know that.” He pulled me toward the bed. “Even with the demons gone, we made too many enemies in the dungeon to stay. We’d never be safe there.”

Were we safe here? In this town, full of people and noise and spaces so bright and open and unknown it overwhelmed me. “I don’t belong here.”

His hand reached up to cup my face, forcing me to look into the fire that blazed behind his eyes. “I couldn’t leave you there. They would have killed you.”

I shut my eyes and tried to shake my head, still held gently captive by him. What did that matter? It was the way of the world. My world. One killed lesser creatures to survive and, in turn, were killed in kind. It made sense. 

“And I just…” I felt his hand slide from my face into my hair, touching the strands that mimicked the soft, flowing texture of his own while still maintaining the blocky, half-crumbled style and color of the statue. “I couldn’t stand the idea of living in a world that didn’t have you in it.”

I squeezed my eyes closed, even as my traitorous body turned to his, nuzzling helplessly against his wrist and forearm. “You don’t even know me.” He knew this version of me. Some copy of some crumbled copy of someone who'd existed at the dawn of the dungeon. But that wasn’t me. I wasn’t even sure I knew who or what that was. Who were you, when you could be anything?

“I know you.” His hand palmed the back of my skull possessively. “I have seen you battle for your life. For my life. I’ve seen you become whatever you need to be to survive, to thrive in a world that would crush anyone less clever, less adaptive. You are amazing.” His other hand came up to brush his thumb against the corners of my eyes. “And it kills me that you can’t see that.”

My own hand reached up to flutter beside his temple, afraid to actually touch. “Maybe I should steal your eyes,” I said as I felt my own shift, changing shape and color to match his, “so I can.”

He laughed and turned his face to kiss my palm. “If only your power worked that way.”

My power. He made it sound impressive, instead of just instinctual. This part of myself that often felt bigger than me like some genetic legacy that controlled me more than I could ever control it. “I like looking at you better anyway,” I said as I trailed my hand down his neck and over his chest. He always felt so solid. Even outside his armor, his body felt steady, like he was so sure what he was that he could be nothing but that. That felt powerful. In a way I would never understand but desperately wanted to. “I like touching you.”

He lifted the hem of his tunic over his head and tossed it to the floor. “Touch as much as you like.” He leaned forward to press firm lips against my neck.

I laughed, letting claws form at the tips of my fingers as I gingerly dragged them over his chest and abdomen. “Be careful what you ask for.”

He sucked in a breath, making the muscles there flex and twitch beneath my fingers. “I trust you.”

A hero who trusted a monster. It shouldn’t have been possible. It flew in the face of everything — every instinct and unwritten law — that had dictated my life. Yet here we were.

He leaned forward to press firm lips against my neck. “I want to touch you too.” 

My thoughts stalled for a moment. I wasn’t built like him. I glared at the dress that draped over me before ending in a cracked and jagged rock-like pattern at my feet. Yes, it flowed and felt as much like cloth as my brain could manifest but, at its most elemental form, it was flesh. It didn’t come off, like his clothes did.

He lifted my face to meet his gaze. “I told you, I know you.” He let his hands drift lower, over my shoulders and down my arms. “You are you, no matter what you look like.” I gasped as his hand suddenly gripped my hips and pulled them against his. “So stop trying to look for ways to make this work. Just let it.” He swayed our bodies, pressing them together in a way that left me shivering and breathless. “Feel it.”

A needy whimper escaped my lips as I felt his hardness against me, felt my own body soften and melt like molten wax, eager to accept every thrust and grind he gave. “Tell me what you want.” The pleading words wept from me. I would give him anything. Would become whatever he wanted, so long as he didn’t stop.

“I told you,” he said as he continued his torturously slow tease, “I want you.”

“But,” my broken voice sputtered as nerves started to creep into my thoughts, cooling the heat he was stoking inside, “how?” 

He leaned in and sealed his lips over mine, stealing the confused words from my tongue. “However you’ll have me.” Kissing my lips, his breath was hot and heady against my fevered skin. “There are so many ways I want to make you feel good.” His hands smoothed down my body, learning it, molding it, with his every touch. “All you need to do is tell me which ones you want.” I groaned as my body arched up to meet him, to stroke him back, needing more. 

But, when his hands jerked, I froze. Choking on icy shame, I forced the still cloth-like bits of me to untangle their fiercely un-fabric-like grip from his fingers. “I-I’m sorry.”

He kissed me again, until my eyes fluttered shut and my mouth forgot how to form words. “You’ve nothing to apologize for; I was just surprised.” He licked into my mouth, his tongue tasting me, consuming me, in a way I’d never known before. “I love it when you touch me. Wherever. However.” He pressed his hand against my belly, letting it sink into my giving flesh, letting me envelop him. Letting himself get lost within me. He let out a low, hungry growl. “Look how much you want it. How much you need it.”

And I did. My life before him had been all about consuming, taking everything I wanted and making it part of myself, feeding off it. And, while I wanted that — needed that — with Rhett, I wanted to give to him too. I wanted him to take me too. To feed each other until there wasn’t a part of me that wasn’t part of him, part of us.

His hand slid lower, playing within the forgiving folds of my form. It shouldn’t have felt so good. I didn’t feel pleasure the way humans did, yet my body heated, writhed, craved, under his reverently curious attention, drawing him deeper into the sea of desire I was already drowning in. He leaned down so we could swallow each other’s heady sighs as he caressed my flesh, pushing deep with fingers fumbling with the force of his hunger. “I need you too, Mim; tell me how I can have you.” Mumbled, half-formed pleas trembled along my strained throat. His tongue laved, hot and wet, along that taut column as if he could taste my cries. “Do you want me to take you?” He nipped at the skin stretched sensitively thin. “Or do you want to be the one who takes?”

I didn’t know. I’d never done this. I pulled his face to mine and pressed a helpless sound to his lips. “I need you.” That was all I knew for certain. “All of you.” Everything he could give me. Anything I could get.

He simply nodded before reaching for his trousers, yanking them down with clumsy but determined hands. I gasped in wonder as his cock sprung free, jutting insistently against me, hot and heavy, hard yet so satiny soft. I rubbed myself against him, reveling in the sensation.

His hands gripped me tighter, to plead for mercy or to pull me closer, I wasn’t sure. “Let me in, Mim.” His voice sounded ruined as his body all but shook with tension. “Please.”

So I did. On a sigh so relieved it bordered on pain, I let myself go. My form relaxed, released, welcoming him in. We shared a sweet, harmonious moan as his hard, unyielding body sunk deep and sure into my soft, quivering give. I watched in awe as his eyes rolled back and his cheeks flushed while he lost himself within me with each wild, reckless thrust. “Mim.” My name became a prayer, a spell he cast on us both. “Mim.”

“Rhett.” I met him, move for move, each sensuous stroke making my flesh swell and stretch for more. On instinct, my body reached for him, finding symmetry in him as it sought for stimulation. “I need you.” My brave adventurer. My fevered flesh lengthened, pushing and prodding against his, seeking any give that could match my own. He let out a keening cry as I found it, pressing against his hole. “Rhett, may I?”

“Mim,” he groaned as he ground his body down hard onto mine. “God, yes, more.” He bit his lip as he took me inside himself. “How can this be more than I ever knew existed and still not enough?” Our tangled bodies moved to a frantic beat only we knew, leaving us able to do nothing more than cling to each other. This world of his, that had felt too wide and wild, condensed — collapsed under the unrelenting desire consuming us both. Every thrust filled me even as I filled him, creating a friction so sweet I wasn’t sure I’d survive it. 

Just as I was sure I couldn’t take anymore, I felt Rhett’s body stutter. His back bowed tight, even as the rest of him shuddered limply. A guttural groan tore from his throat as I felt his arousal rush hot and thick from him, into me. My inhuman body felt it, tasted it, devoured every sticky drop. Took every damned bit he gave me and made it my own, let it fill and feed me until I swore, even after a lifetime of consumption, I’d never felt so full.

Sated — for maybe the first time ever — I let myself slip, slow and languidly slaked, from him. My body pooled and poured itself beside him, coalescing into whatever form it chose to take. I liked limbs; they helped me hold onto him. Lazily, I looked at the way veins of gold and jewel-toned glints ran over my marbled arm as it stretched over his still heaving chest. Wherever my flesh met his, the color seemed to melt into his match, my mimicry making it hard to tell where he ended and I began.

He stroked along the pliant limb, leaving Rhett-tinted trails along my silken skin. He sighed, sounding sleepy and so very pleased. His gaze caressed me, lingered over the way my mobile body molded itself to his, before pressing a kiss against my temple and smiled down at me. At the most me I’d ever felt in my life. “So beautiful.”

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Between the Lines - Part Two

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CHAPTER EIGHT: BETWEEN THE LINES - PART TWO

Well, that had been a disaster. Azel shut his apartment door and sunk back against the wood. What had made him think it would go well? He wasn’t exactly the kind of partner a person — especially an accomplished and amazing one like Harri — would introduce to their family. He sighed and tugged at his horns in frustration. He was a poor, jobless demon with nothing but a mountain of debt and a pretty face; yeah, what mother wouldn’t want that for her daughter?

He rolled his eyes as his phone buzzed. What now? He checked his text messages, seeing one from Xara.

XARA: Hey, Az, wanted to give you a heads up. The credit check we ran for your employment background showed several IRS audits and a lot of debt payments that haven’t been dealt with yet. I mean, I know you, so you’re hired regardless, but you should definitely look into that.

Azel groaned and shut off his phone. Perfect. Maybe he should just swallow his pride and take Harri up on her offer to give him an advance. It wasn’t like he could afford to not finish out the contract, no matter what Xara had told him. He needed the money too much.

And, especially after seeing her with her mom, Azel didn’t think he could walk out on Harri, even if he didn’t need the money. He didn’t want to just be one more person in her life who let her down. One more person who only stood by her when it was easy. No, he’d see this through to the end. He’d make sure she came out okay.

Though how he was going to do that… he had no fucking clue.

He sat down on his couch and stared at all the bills and statements haphazardly spread out on his coffee table. Maybe he should start by figuring out his own shit. Get his own life sorted out. He was never going to convince anyone that he was good enough for someone like Harri like this. He needed to be better.

So he gathered all his papers together and started to sort. It took him all night, all morning, and well into the afternoon to organize it all into bills that had been paid, bills he needed to pay, and bills that were past due. It was still staggering, seeing it all organized in front of him. But it felt… strangely better knowing the numbers. 

He’d always been a little afraid that tallying up the total would make it all feel too real and that, by avoiding it, he was somehow staying one step ahead and out of its reach. 

He was beginning to think it was more like being a man who didn’t notice he was drowning. And the longer he took to save himself, the worse he was making it on himself. Now he knew how far he had to swim. He just had to do it. And, while it still felt daunting as hell, it no longer felt insurmountable. 

And that was something.

By the time Xara texted him about his first shift at the shop, he’d done some online digging on the IRS website as well as figuring out what kind of payment plans were available for some of his default-ier dues.  

XARA: Az, you good with starting Monday? I can get you on schedule for the 10a-6p shift, if that works for you

Azel texted her back that it worked perfectly for him and thanked her again. He was about to start a real job. He had at least the beginnings of a real plan. It finally felt, for the first time in a long time, like things were looking up.

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Between the Lines - Part One

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CHAPTER EIGHT: BETWEEN THE LINES - PART ONE

This was a terrible idea. Harri had suspected it the second she’d agreed to do it. But, now that the moment was here, she knew it. Without a single doubt.

“So,” her mother said as she spread her cloth napkin across her lap, “how long have you two been seeing each other?”

They were all seated around a too small, glass table in the corner of her mother’s favorite upscale French bistro. Harri really hadn’t wanted to come, but Azel had pointed out that, if they really wanted to convince Nate, they needed to convince her family and friends. If they kept seeing and treating Nate as her boyfriend, Nate had no reason to stop either. So, despite her reservations and with extensive prepping, they’d come.

Azel, as if sensing Harri’s stress level, reached for her hand under the table and smiled at her mother politely. “Not very long. Only a few weeks but I know having the people in Harri’s life hear about us through other people was…” He paused, as if weighing his words carefully, before reciting the explanation they’d discussed ahead of time. “We didn’t think it was a good situation for any of us.”

Her mother sniffed and lifted her fork to pick at her Waldorf salad. “Well, I’m glad that it sounds as if neither of you are rushing into anything.” She looked at Harri pointedly, making her feel six years old again. “I’d hate for you to do anything you can’t take back.”

Harri’s hand — her whole body — tensed, as she felt all the complicated emotions she felt around her mother rise inside her. Shame. Anger. Disappointment. And a deep need to seek her approval and love. Again, she felt Azel squeeze her hand, a silent sign that, even if she didn’t think she did, he knew she could do this. He had her back.

So she straightened her shoulders and met her mother’s gaze. “I knew that you might be worried—”

“Might be?” Her mother scoffed behind a perfect bite of her salad.

“—and we wanted to put your mind at ease.”

“At ease!” Her mother’s incredulity made her voice literally crack.

“Yes,” Harri continued, working hard to keep her own voice calm in the face of her mother’s very un-calm tone. “I’m happy now. Happier than I’ve been in a long time—”

Harri shut her mouth at her mother’s raised hand. “I’m sure you are.” She leaned forward and laid her hand over Harri’s clenched fist. “I remember what it was like to be young and on the cusp of your real life.” She pouted and gave her daughter a patronizing look. “It can be scary to take that first step into adulthood, so if you need…” She looked Azel up and down, pursing her lips. “...time to sort yourself out…” She shook her head, her perfectly arranged hair not moving even a strand. “We’ll all be here for you, dear. You know that.” She sat back and picked her fork back up. “Just don’t keep us waiting too long, if you know what I mean.”

Nate. She meant Nate. Harri knew she meant Nate. Azel knew she meant Nate. Hell, the diners at the surrounding tables likely knew she meant goddamed Nate.

“Harri is an adult.”

 Both Harri and her mother turned to Azel. Her mother raised an imperious eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Azel sat up straighter, his ill-fitting sport coat stretching over his broad shoulders and tucked-away, covered wings. “With all due respect, Mrs. Wren. But Harri is not only of age, she’s educated, successful. She’s the most responsible, most capable, smartest person I know.”

Harri stared at Azel. This wasn’t their script. Wasn’t the clean, pat answers she’d told him to say. Where was this coming from?

Azel ticked off his fingers. “She has a good job. A good home. She has friends and is always willing — sometimes too willing — to help out everyone around her as much as she can.” He met her mother’s steely gaze unflinchingly. Something she didn’t think she felt up to most of the time. “Even now, she arranged this meet-up — took time out of her busy life to do something she knew would likely be deeply awkward — to make you feel better.” He lifted their joined hands and laid them on the table, in front of her mother. Harri stared at their hands, feeling his strength, his confidence, his conviction in her, flow from him into her. It felt good. Better than anything she could have ever imagined. “By every metric that matters, your daughter is an adult, one who has proven she can make the best decisions about herself and her life.”

Her mother’s gaze narrowed on their entwined hands. “Maybe not every metric.” She held up her hands to cut off whatever either Harri or Azel might say. “Look, I’m sure you’re a perfectly fine…” She waved her hand dismissively over Azel. “But she is my daughter; I think I know a little bit more about what’s best for her.” 

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” That thought just kept haunting her. Did anyone in her life truly understand her? Did Harri herself?

She looked at Azel, at the surety radiating from him. Did he know her? It felt like he did. Or was it that he accepted her, however she was, however she needed to be in that moment, without judgment or reservation? Was it that he let her show him who she was, instead of expecting her to be someone else? 

“I just don’t think you’ve thought this through,” her mother continued. “I’m sure you both are having your fun now, but where is this going? Really? How does this all look in five years? Ten? Twenty?” She too precisely cut her salad into smaller and smaller bites. “How will your lives fit together? Do you plan to bring him to family events, like weddings and funerals? Are you prepared to attend work or social events together, where image matters? Where will you live? Will your landlord even allow someone like him on your lease? How will you get married? How will you even be able to attend services together, much less be married in our church? How will you have children? Is it even possible and, if it is, will they be normal or will they be…” She looked Azel up and down again. “I’m just saying these are questions you should have answers to.”

Harri didn’t know whether to stare slack-jawed at her mother’s rudeness or to grind her teeth in rage. “Like we said, it’s only been a few weeks; I don’t think we need to be asking those kinds of questions quite yet. But,” she said, feeling more than a little hurt along with being incredibly offended on Azel’s behalf, “I would hope that anywhere I was welcome, my partner — whoever they might be — would be welcome as well.” She stood up, tossing her napkin over her mostly untouched lunch. “Azel agreed to come here with me, so you could meet him, so you could see who he is outside the gossip being whispered in your ear, and hopefully feel more comfortable with all this.” Harri shook her head. She’d known this was a bad idea. “I would have hoped you could have met us with the same goodwill.” Harri should have known her mother wouldn’t. 

Thank God none of this was real. She hated putting Azel through this. Making him sit here being demeaned and dismissed by her mother. Over her. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like, if they were actually dating. To be sitting with the person you wanted to spend your life with and see this as your future. No one was worth that, certainly not her. 

“She’s the most responsible, most capable, smartest person I know.” He’d said such wonderful things about her. In a moment where she’d felt like none of those things, he’d said them with unwavering certainty. Seen who she wanted to be, who she tried very hard to be. She owed it to him to do her best to live up to that, as much as she could.

So she reached for her purse and pulled out several bills, enough to cover the tab and tip. “Enjoy your lunch, Mother. Please let me know, when you’re ready to try this again. Until then,” she said, reaching out a hand to Azel as he stood up too, “we have nothing more to say.”

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Brass Tacks - Part Four

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CHAPTER SEVEN: BRASS TACKS - PART FOUR

They walked in silence back toward Harri’s apartment. Azel’s wings itched to stretch out and wrap around Harri’s shoulders to shield her from the biting breeze. But he wasn’t sure that would be welcome, so he clutched them tight against his back, hunching his shoulders and holding himself as still as possible so he didn’t accidentally brush against her as they made their way.

“I’m sorry about all that.” Her words were so soft he almost lost them on the whipping wind.

He shrugged. Like she’d said to the servers. “It wasn’t your fault.” Wasn’t the first person to react to him simply existing like that. Wouldn’t be the last, he was sure. He shoved his free hand into his pocket. “That was kind of you to tip them.” It was incredibly kind of her to stand up for him too, but he didn’t know how to say that without… Crying? Falling at her feet? He didn’t quite know, but he was sure it would be embarrassing, for them both. 

She scoffed. “No one gets paid enough to deal with people like that.”

Azel nodded. Didn’t he know it. And it always seemed to be the lowest paid among them who were always forced to. “Which just makes your gesture mean more.” He was sure those two guys appreciated it. He knew he would.

Which made him feel somehow more conflicted. About everything. If he was honest, a part of him, the poor, struggling part, chafed at her ability — her easy, carefree, reflexive propensity — to, once again, throw her money around to make problems disappear. And to have her do so yet again at his expense… It made him feel greedily envious, and graspingly inadequate, and just… small.

Why had she done it anyway? Because that holier-than-thou hymn-hummer insulted him? Why did she care? She’d literally spiked him with holy oil; now she wanted to be offended that some pathetic pew-warmer said mean words to him. It didn’t make sense.

Neither did his reaction to it. Her anger on his behalf had been humbling and humiliating, yes, but also… hot as hell. She was the last person in the world — or any other for that matter — he would have ever wanted to see him being yelled at, being insulted and belittled, like that. He’d felt so helpless, knowing that there was nothing he could do or say that would change that stuffed pantsuit’s mind or make the situation better. So he’d just sat there, trying to make himself as imperceptible as possible. 

And then, out of nowhere, Harri had appeared, standing taller than her 5’ 2” stature should be able to, right between him and the big bad. Her furious indignation had lit her up from the inside out, making her look glorious. Like an avenging angel in cashmere and pressed pants. He hadn’t been able to look away from her.

And the taste of it! All that confidence and righteous indignation, like crackling lightning, was somehow both chilling and searing, yet so very sweet. It was satisfying in a way he’d never experienced before and couldn’t get enough of. He could have gorged himself on her defense of him forever, drank deeply of it from her fiery lips and licked its lingering taste from her skin, and still stayed hungry for it. For her. 

For someone so impossibly out of his reach, he had to remind himself. He needed to remember that. His fingers brushed Xara’s business card in his pocket. She’d been right; he should cut his losses and run. Take the job Xara was offering and forget this whole thing with Harri.

Except, as they approached her apartment, the look on Harri’s face, the way her gaze anxiously darted up at her ex’s window, fucking gutted Azel. She’d just goddamed smited that simpering piety pusher like it was nothing. Even if he hated it, it’d been audacious as hell to poison a literal demon one night then schedule a meeting with him a few days later. Woman was fearless.

A small smile teased his lips before a frown stole it. Yet that smarmy, khaki-wearing, minivan-made asshole next door scared her. It wasn’t right.

Azel kicked a fallen stick along the sidewalk leading up to her building. “Need me to walk you to your door?” It was the least he could do for her. And then, if he was smart, he should walk the fuck away and not look back. 

She shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine.”

She didn’t sound like she even believed that. But Azel simply nodded and held out the delivery bag. “Here.”

She wrinkled her nose at it. “Take it.”

He shook his head resolutely. “No free meals, remember? You paid for it.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping tiredly. “I really don’t want it; I think that whole experience ruined me for breakfast foods.”

He snorted. Yeah, he got that, but he wasn’t exactly in a position to waste food like that. He let his arm drop to his side with a shrug. “I’ll pay you back then.”

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to do that. It’s just fucking pancakes, Azel.”

But it wasn’t and they both knew it, so he didn’t say anything.

“Sorry,” she said, pressing her fingers to her temple. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He shrugged. “It’s fine.” 

“No!” she said, her voice rising again. “It’s not.” She sighed and licked her lips. “I don’t want to be mean or cold or distant. I don’t want to scare servers or make scenes in cafés. I feel like I don’t even recognize myself anymore.”

It was strange. Because, yes, Azel knew that the Harri standing in front of him now — certainly the one who’d stood up for him in the café — appeared different than the lonelyhearts woman he’d met in that bar. But, having felt her emotions every step of the way — the longing, the betrayed sense of justice at the way people too often treat each other, the strength and resilience to have lived with that day after day and still keep going — she felt the exact same. She was simply acting on those feelings more. She was choosing to act on them differently. Allowing those secret inner emotions to rise to the surface, showing in her words and actions.

And, for the life of him, Azel would never see that as a bad thing. Trying to find a way to say all that, he sighed and tilted his head thoughtfully. “Maybe you’re not yourself anymore.” She jerked her gaze to look at him questioningly, defensively. “Maybe you’re not who you used to be, behaving and believing exactly as you did before. But who said you’re supposed to be the same person forever? Maybe you’re who you need to be in this moment?” 

She shook her head. “What do you mean? I’m supposed to be mean and cold and scary?”

Azel clutched the bag in his hands, feeling and hearing the paper bag crinkle as he fidgeted so he couldn’t reach out to comfort her like he wanted to. “I think you’re scared right now. You have an ex who won’t leave you alone, yet who also has left you alone, isolated you from and pitted you against your family and friends. Your whole life has been turned upside down. The people you thought you could trust don’t feel trustworthy any longer. The places and activities you thought were safe don’t feel that way anymore.” He scoffed, fisting the bag in frustration at wanting to — needing to — defend her with the same fervor she’d defended him. “You’re not mean, Harri; you’re mad. And you have every right to be.”

Her face went slack for a moment as his words whirred in that buzzing, fascinating, little computer in her brain. “But I don’t want to be.”

He clenched the bag in his hand so hard his talons pierced the thick paper as he fought the urge to smooth her furrowed brow. He didn’t understand why he wanted to make her feel better so much. He really shouldn’t — it wasn’t his place as her… employee, her fake boyfriend, whatever the fuck he was to her — but he needed to. “You don’t have to be. Not forever,” he told her softly. “Right now, everything in you is telling you to be wary, defensive, because, if you can’t tell who or what to trust, you can’t trust anything.” Was that why she’d poisoned him? “But, in time, you’ll learn how to have faith again, both in other people as well as in yourself.”

She smirked a little. “Is it weird to be getting advice about having faith from a demon?”

He chuckled, his stomach clenching over that tiny, light curve of her lips. “Yeah, I’m probably not the most qualified person on the subject.”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged, her expression widening into a genuine smile. “I really needed to hear someone say that; it was pretty perfect to me.” The relaxed, grateful look in her eyes eased a strange tension inside him that he hadn’t even been aware of until it was gone. “Thanks.”

He stared back at her, grinning himself, feeling almost dumbstruck by her words. By her, really. “You’re welcome.” He liked seeing her like this, lighter, freer. Because of something he‘d said. It made him feel… useful, powerful, wise. He blushed a bit at the fluttery thought. “Anytime.”

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Brass Tacks - Part Three

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CHAPTER SEVEN: BRASS TACKS - PART THREE

Harri had been hiding in the café’s restroom stall for far too long, spending nearly fifteen minutes just watching and listening to the many varied feet shuffle across the scuffed tile. She needed to leave. It wasn’t as if she could stay here all day. As it was, Azel might have already assumed she’d just ditched him and left.

Part of her hoped he had. She didn’t know how she was going to face him. 

God, she was pathetic! So paralyzed by the fear of looking weak or useless that that was precisely what she ended up being.

She practically jumped at a knock on the stall door. “Sorry, are you almost done in there?”

“Yes!” she yelped, leaping to her feet and straightening her clothes. “Sorry; I’ll be right out. Sorry.” Still feeling shaky, she straightened her clothes before walking out of the stall and toward the sink.

“Finally!” the woman sighed before rushing into the vacated stall.

“Sorry,” Harri murmured again, even as the water from the faucet drowned out her voice. She knew she ought to check the mirror. Ought to at least try to make herself more presentable. But she simply couldn’t bear to look herself in the eye. So she snatched a handful of paper towels and headed back into the café.

Only to stop short, when she saw Nate standing in the empty walkway in front of the restrooms. She stiffened, debating if she ought to just head back to her stall.

“Harri!”

Too late. She fisted the crinkled, slightly damp paper in her hands. “What are you doing here, Nate?” Was he freaking stalking her?

Nate frowned, looking hurt at her accusatory tone. “You know I like the coffee here.”

He did. As a caffeine-fiend and a coffee snob, they’d come to this café often, when they were dating. Whatever. “Well, hope you enjoy it.” She tried to move past him, but he stopped her with a hand around her elbow.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, “I know you need your space, but I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He let go of her arm to duck his head down and shuffle his feet awkwardly in front of her. “It looked like you two were fighting.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake! Nate would have to be here for that, would have to witness her being — rightfully — chastised like some recalcitrant grade schooler. She clenched her jaw. “I’m fine. Great! We’re great. Everything’s great.”

Nate looked up at her doubtfully, knowingly. “I’m sure.” He tilted his head, placatingly. “But, if for whatever reason, you weren’t…” He shrugged. “I know we’re not what we were before, but you still mean a lot to me. And I hope you know that I’m always here for you, if you need me.”

She sighed and pressed her thumb against her throbbing temple. “Thank you.” The perfunctory, polite words felt like ash in her mouth. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I should be getting back.”

“To him.” The quiet, harsh words sent a sharp, apprehensive shiver down her back.

“Yes.” It hadn’t been a question, but she warily answered him anyway.

Her eyes widened as she saw his fists clench, his knuckles flashing white with the force. The sight, aggressive and angry, was so different from the sweet, easygoing man she’d thought she’d known. Something hard and almost hungry flashed in his eyes. “If you ever need me to, I’ll take him on. I’m not scared of a demon like him.”

That was it! She did not need another hotheaded protector on her hands. “No, you definitely. Will. Not.” She shoved a pointed finger in his face. “Do you hear me? I neither want nor need anyone picking fights on my behalf.” What the hell was wrong with everyone?!

“I’m just trying to look out for you, Harri.” He grabbed her hand with both of his, patting her soothingly, looking and sounding more like himself. But it was as if Harri could still sense that other side lurking beneath his easy smile. “You’re too nice for your own good. You need someone to—”

Furious, she snatched back her hand. “I need everyone to stop acting like they know what’s best for me and let me decide for myself.”

Nate frowned, his eyes widening with worry as they looked over her. “Are you okay, Harri? Really?”

Jesus Christ! “I am fine!”

His frown just deepened as he continued on as if she hadn’t spoken. “Because you’ve changed. And not in a good way.” He studied her, his lips pulled into a grim line. “You’ve become… mean, cold, distant;” he said with a sad sigh, “everyone thinks so.”

Harri stopped short. Had she? She thought about her actions over the past few days. The way she’d talked to — the way she’d behaved with — Azel. Maybe something was wrong with her.

“I think it’s because of him.” Nate gritted out that last word like it was poison on his tongue. “You weren’t like this before him. You were never like this with me. He’s changed you. Made you into someone else.”

Then why, when she was around Azel, did she so often feel more honest with herself, even when she didn’t really want to be? Why did it feel like Azel was the one person she could, for better or worse, just be with? Maybe it was because of the contract, or because everything between them was fake, but she didn’t feel like she needed to try so hard to fit with him, to impress or gain approval from him. She didn’t need to be on her best behavior, be the best, most helpful, most polite and fun and sociable and compliant version of herself. She could just be herself. 

It was nice. Freeing. And she didn’t think she wanted to go back. Wasn’t entirely sure she could. So she leveled Nate with a cold stare. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” Maybe no one did. And, with that, she pushed past him and headed back to the table.

But, just as she entered the café proper again, she froze at the heavy tension gripping the space.

“Ma’am, I need you to lower your voice—”

“My voice!” a highlighted blond haired woman with a severely tight and high bun practically shrieked. “I will not lower my voice. I came here with my daughter to pick up brunch after church, only to find a devil seated not six feet away.”

The poor, frazzled server held out his hands, straining to calm and contain the situation. “Like I said, your order is almost done; how about I get you a cup of coffee while you wait—”

“I don’t want coffee;” her shrill voice rang out, “I want this hellspawn banished back where it came from.”

“Ma’am—”

She slammed her hand on the table, making Azel’s body twitch before the bound wings clenched tighter against his back. Thrusting an accusing finger in his face, she wagged it like a crucifix. “I know what you are. With that face and those…” She waved her hand at the whole of him. “…wings. Tempter demon.” She sneered and spat the words at him. “I won’t let you lead my daughter astray.”

Azel gave the woman an irritated, confused look. “Lady, I don’t even know who your daughter is.”

The woman’s face flushed a deep, furious red. “She is a pure, innocent girl and I know what filth like you—”

That was more than enough! Harri strode to the table and stepped between the woman and Azel, forcing the woman to step back. “What is going on here?”

The woman, suddenly robbed of her big, dramatic moment, looked flustered as she took in Harri. This close, with the woman’s pastel pantsuit and fashionably understated jewelry, she looked like any one of the nice, well-to-do church ladies her mother and aunt liked to brunch with. Right down to the confused, disappointed look she gave Harri, for not behaving like a carbon-copy-to-be version of herself. 

By all rights, she ought to be. Harri had grown up in this woman’s world. Had been raised by people just like her, who’d been raised by people just like them. Looking down at her own white linen, impeccably pressed shirt and perfectly pleated grey woolen slacks, properly paired with a simple strand of pearls, Harri knew there was a high probability the woman owned an almost identical outfit as hers. By all outward appearances, they were the same.

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” 

The phrase came back to her, straightening her spine. Shooting the woman her mother’s most censorious stare, Harri crossed her arms over her chest. “Is there a problem here?”

The woman’s lip wobbled, the movement seeking, signaling the need for, sympathy in what certainly appeared to be an ally. “This— this— creature was threatening my daughter.”

Harri raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

The woman clutched the tastefully jeweled gold cross dangling at her throat. “We were just here to pick up our brunch order on our way home from mass and that thing tried to seduce her.”

Harri fought a disbelieving scoff. She knew Azel well enough to know that accusation was bullshit. She narrowed her gaze and repeated, “How so?”

“I pointed out where the restrooms were,” Azel grumbled behind her.

How very seductive. Harri tilted her head to glare condescendingly at the woman, whose flaming cheeks looked ready to combust. “And?”

The woman all but stomped her foot as her arm flew out to gesture at a cowering preteen in a pretty, cozy sweater dress who was trying as hard as possible not to be perceived. “His very presence is a danger to someone at such an impressionable age.”

Harri rolled her eyes as the poor girl shuffled her feet anxiously. “Forgive me, but the only thing your daughter seems in danger of is dying of embarrassment at her mother’s atrocious behavior.”

A collective gasp seized the café, even as it wheezed out in a few stifled giggles. The woman’s already stony, likely botoxed face steeled. “How dare you!”

“How dare you insult my…” Harri’s mind stalled a second as it searched for the right word. Friend? No, that didn’t seem right on a multitude of levels. Fake boyfriend? Accurate, but hardly appropriate. “…date,” she settled on, strictly maintaining her tone in the hopes that it would help mask the slight pause.

“Date?” The woman’s lip curled in distaste. 

Another harried server rushed up to them with a large delivery bag. “Ma’am, I have your order now.”

The woman sneered and recoiled from the bag. “I don’t want that,” she snapped. “It could be contaminated.”

“By what?” the server asked, confused.

The woman motioned wildly at Azel. “Him.” She sniffed, disgusted, at Harri. “And his harlot.”

Harri stiffened, fury now overtaking her annoyance. “Excuse me?”

The first server grabbed the delivery bag and held it out to the woman, like a peace offering. “Why not take your order and—” 

The woman shook her head. “I’m not paying for that.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve been coming here for years; I’m a very loyal customer but, if I had known that you serve their kind here…” She sniffed indignantly. “I am never coming back again. And,” she added, this time actually stomping her boutique-bought, appropriately low-heeled shoe, “I want my money back.”

The server’s face fell as he continued to hold the bag out, as if in desperate hope it could somehow end this interaction. “Ma’am, it’s already made and, I promise you, we follow every health and safety guide—”

“I am not paying for that,” the woman insisted. “And I’m not leaving without getting my money back. I want to speak to your manager.”

“Ma’am, I am the manager on duty and I—”

“Great!” she snipped, turning all her attention on him, much to his dismay. “Then I want a full refund. After,” she added, with an imperious sweep of her hand, “those two are escorted out.”

“Us?” Harri scoffed. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”

The woman looked down her disapproving nose at Harri. “You are wrong.”

Azel grabbed Harri’s arm as he stood up next to her. “We should just go; we were pretty much finished here anyway.”

That wasn’t the point. Harri gritted her teeth. She was sick and goddamned tired of being pushed around and belittled by people who thought they were better than her. “You said you’ll leave after you get your money back?” Harri scoffed. “Of course that’s all you care about.” Leave it to rich people to think they could nickel-and-dime their way to dignity. “Fine! I’ll pay for it.” She dug in her purse and slapped her credit card down on the table with a loud smack that seemed to echo inside the crowded café. “If it means I — and everyone else in this restaurant whose day you’ve ruined — never have to see you again, it’s well worth the price.” She turned back to the woman and leveled her with a ruthless glare. “Now leave.”

She and the oh-so proper church lady glared at each other, frozen for a long moment before the woman huffed and turned on her heels. She gruffly collected her daughter, who was still sputtering weakly about breakfast and bathrooms, and hurried toward the door. As the woman pushed it open, she shouted over her shoulder at Harri. “Your mother should be ashamed.”

Harri cringed, remembering that Nate was probably still spying on her somewhere in the café. Her mother very likely would be. And Harri was sure she’d hear all about it later. Joy. 

With a resigned sigh, she picked up her credit card, the action feeling silly after her grand, climactic gesture, before turning to the two servers. They jumped, their saucer-like eyes looking at her panicked, as if they thought she was going to yell at them too. She winced. Maybe she and that puffed-up woman in all her Sunday worst were more alike than Harri would like to admit. Swallowing hard, she forced a polite smile and a softer tone. “Let’s head to the counter, so you can ring all this up.”

The two nodded dutifully and meekly headed to the front of the store. As she followed them, she could feel the whole restaurant staring at her in utter and unbearable silence.

“You’ve changed. And not in a good way.” Nate’s disapproving words echoed back to her. “You’ve become… mean, cold, distant; everyone thinks so.”

What if everyone was right? What if she had been better before? When she’d bitten her tongue and just gone along with what other people wanted? When she’d always done what was expected of her and no one had been mad or worried or scared of her.

“Here you are, ma’am,” the manager murmured demurely, handing her a receipt. “I apologize for all that.”

Harri quickly signed the slip of paper before handing it over. “It wasn’t your fault. Add whatever tip you think is fair on the tab.” 

The manager shook his head as he took the slip. “You don’t have to do that.”

“You deserve it,” she said, knowing it was the very least they were owed. She nodded to the other server as well. “Enough for the both of you.”

“Thank you,” the other server said with a slight yet still nervous smile. “And here,” he said as handed her the delivery bag. “It’s our brunch special; we’re famous for it. And you did pay for it.”

“Thanks,” Azel said, taking the bag from him. “I’m sure we’ll enjoy it.”

Nausea swirled in her stomach at the idea of food at this moment. And though she was sure her mood soured it, she smiled at the servers again. “Thank you.”

They simply nodded. No You’re welcome or Please come again. Not that she blamed them. She let Azel take her by the elbow and lead her out of the café, feeling suddenly drained.

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