Page 18 of Where Exorcists Cannot Lie

He whispered the rest into my ear. Then tongued it for good measure.

I gasped. All at once, any traces of tiredness evaporated from my body. I reached across Inuel’s chest towards his bedside stand.

“What are you doing now?” he said, sounding half-perplexed, half-amused.

“Duh, lighting a lamp, of course. I need to see. You don’t seriously expect me to miss any of it, do you?”

From that moment onwards, we spent the nights in Inuel’s bedroom, and our sleeping-to-fucking ratio set at about six to four. Reducing my resting time had never bothered me less in my life. Quality beat quantity within the healthful, nourishing energy of the retreat, at any rate.

Our nightly endeavours differed from those of the past—with no active powers, we couldn’t indulge in aura merging or spiritual exchanges like we used to before. Yet somehow, it didn’t matter. It felt more raw, honest and passionate that way. Still magical, even without actual Magic in play.

Inuel still refrained from knotting me. Never even expressed the inclination once. I couldn’t guess the reason, but it sufficed for me to know that he had one. So, despite my burning desire, I couldn’t bring myself to ask him to do it. I remembered how shocked and aroused I’d been the first time he’d suggested I took his knot and how fast I’d grown to love it. Prior to that, I hadn’t been aware of an Alpha Demon’s ability to knot their partner. This particular bit of knowledge didn’t appear in the scientific publications I’d encountered during my studies.

We continued with daily meditation and did some things separately, not living in each other’s pockets. But I enjoyed every moment we spent together more than I probably should.

I got a taste for it—the domesticated, cosy life with Inuel. I was content. Fine, I was more than that. But assigning the feeling its proper name felt like a perilous thing to do. Happiness, I’d learned the hard way, could be as tricky to preserve as water in cupped hands. One moment you had it but the next it slipped through your fingers, no matter how tightly knit.

What the fuck was I thinking, playing house with a demon? That, I couldn’t answer. One thing about Inuel Morhh remained a constant—he messed with my reason like no other.

I didn’t need to look very far for proof. It sufficed to recall how we’d first met in that dodgy inn back in Ghadarra. He’d spent most of his time brawling with lowlifes, balls-deep in the black market of illegal charms and talismans—and anyone willing besides. Hadn’t I considered blasting him with a temporary power restriction that day for his many offences? I’d had the paperwork approved and all. And what had I ended up doing instead? Letting him fuck me into oblivion in one of the seedy rooms of the establishment and then taking him home under the flimsy pretext of overseeing his probation.

What we had in the sanctuarium felt right and lovely. But I never once thought Inuel entertained any notion of continuing with it in the outside world or binding our fates together. He hadn’t wanted anything long-term with me before, so why would he now? I decided to cherish what we had without wasting time thinking about thereafter or readying myself for when the goodbyes arrived. The absence of plans and declarations between us spoke volumes. By a mutual unspoken agreement, it seemed, we lived on borrowed time in our little bubble, reconciled with the knowledge that once it burst, we would shake hands, wish each other all the best and part company.

Given that I forbade myself to ponder the future, I reflected on the past.

While a Mage and a demon didn’t constitute a standard coupling, it wasn’t unheard of or outrageous, either. In cases of compatible Magic, the Guild had been known to support such relationships since they came with enormous benefits for both parties in terms of spiritual cultivation. Not to mention the bonus of a demon in allegiance with our side. And non-Mages? They cared not one bit.

So that hadn’t been our problem. Had it been me? Had I scared Inuel away with my neediness, my compulsion to touch and cuddle? My urge to feed him?

Since adolescence, I hadn’t been the loner type. Of course, I enjoyed being on my own on occasion, but I thrived on companionship. I had a small but well-curated circle of friends and maintained good relations with my parents, even though they had split up and lived in separate countries. Early on, I’d had a clear image of what I wanted—a partner I could share my life and home with. Someone who would dote on me and who I could look after in turn. I craved intimacy and closeness to the extent that the men I gravitated towards—unbothered by the lack of it—failed to understand.

I was a homemaker. A snuggler. A lover of herbal infusions, quilts, quality sheets and candles. In a word? Too much for anyone to handle. Over time, Inuel, the manliest man I’d ever dated, must have found those traits downright repellent. Overwhelming. Suffocating. And, he’d taken off, leaving nothing but dust in his wake.

That reasonable interpretation of the past— one I’d always believed—stood in stark contrast to our current circumstances. It didn’t explain Inuel’s sudden and mindboggling willingness to drain pots of camomile and orange blossom tea, peel apples for my crumbles and initiate blanketed snuggling sessions after fucking me into a stupor.

Ecstatic as it all made me, it also gave me a tension headache.

Once again, I had to admit defeat regarding Inuel Morhh. While I had not a single clue what we were doing, I still hung on for the ride.

The kitten appeared from gods knew where one evening during the last week of our stay.

It turned up by the sitting room door, crouched down on its little paws in a stalking pose—ears up, bushy tail engaged in a swishing motion, its rear end raised and wiggling. Getting ready to pounce and claim its territory.

I put down the book I was reading and exchanged a look with Inuel, who reclined on his settee opposite mine.

Whereas in theory, only Mages—and demons, apparently—could enter the sanctuarium barrier, certain animals possessed enough internal energy to gain passage and slip through. As far as I knew, such spiritual critters were rare and recruited amongst felines, bats and birds of prey. Regular fauna like our chickens, whose squawking I could hear through the open window, had to be brought in under the charm of an amulet, as I had with my gelding. But the little silver-grey tabby in our sitting room had no need for any such assistance. That alone evidenced an abundance of spirit.

It darted across the floor but came to a halt after a few leaps, skidding on the tiles in a comical way. Then it froze, orienting his head in my direction in the first instance and in Inuel’s the next. It took a sniff of the air, wrinkling its pink, snub nose, its eyes glinting like emerald almonds. Its entire demeanour radiated indecision.

Inuel’s amused gaze met mine and I bit down on my smile.

While the kitten carried on with determining whose presence called to him the loudest, Inuel winked at me. One of his dark eyebrows arched up his forehead in a clear challenge.

I snorted. He could be such a competitive child sometimes, as I’d discovered while playing cards with him.

At last, the kitten solved its quandary and ended the bizarre standoff. It strutted towards Inuel like an arrow, climbed the upholstery and pounced onto his chest. Having circled its chosen spot twice, it coiled itself, yawned and settled right in.

Ridiculous.

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