Page 11 of Claiming a Demon

Troublemaker (aka Felix): Got any of those fancy snacks you had last time?

I pursed my lips, trying to remember. Sometimes I made stuff beforehand because even at home I liked to cook. I couldn’t always remember exactly what I made, though.

Mal: Be more specific

Troublemaker: Like a little toasted whatever with shrimp on it.

Ah. Shrimp crostinis. I forgot I made those the last time Hen and I hosted. It was an experiment before I suggested it to Mikhail for an appetizer. I often used my friends as guinea pigs for my recipes. So far, they had no complaints about that.

Mal: I’ll stop by the store to pick up what I need. Let me know if there’s anything else.

I had a few hours from when I was done here before I had to be back, so I could quickly throw them together. I didn’t mention to Hen where I was going when I left today. He wasn’t the type to ask, either. None of them knew I was coming here, or that I’d been here in the past. Not that I was embarrassed to tell them, though I assumed there’d be teasing comments about it. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t told them, other than I wanted to keep this little pixie and his magic hands to myself. It felt a little selfish, but when he popped into the lobby and flashed me a bright smile, I pushed away the feeling. Zach was my little miracle worker, and I didn’t want to share him.

“Hey! How are you?”

I shrugged one shoulder, masking the wince that came along with it. I’d helped unload the deliveries the other night and one box in particular probably should’ve been handled by two people. I was stubborn in getting it myself, and I regretted it in the morning.

“That bad, huh?”

Surprised, I frowned at him. People didn’t normally see through my mask. I spent too long perfecting it to keep my sisters off my back. When I gave Zach a suspicious look, he snickered, pointing at my shoulder.

“Your body says more than your face does. If it didn’t hurt to do that, you wouldn’t have been so careful about it. Come on, let’s go sit in the meditation room for a little while. I’ve got the room pretty much set, but it's good to clear your thoughts before a massage.”

I followed him to the large room in the back, which had the same ambiance as before. Low light, soft music, and quiet. It was a little uncomfortable at first. I felt too much strain on my system to really relax, but Zach sat down next to me and took a few deep breaths, giving me an encouraging look when I mimicked him. After I relaxed a little, Zach disappeared to finish setting the room up, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I was running a grocery list through my head when he came back. He led me to the same room we'd been in the previous week and left me to get changed in privacy. Last time I’d only taken off my shirt, since I wasn’t sure what was going to happen. This time, I stripped down to my boxers. I was more comfortable with Zach and I didn’t want to discourage him from helping my legs, which were protesting me standing around right now. I settled myself under the sheet on my stomach like before, looking over my shoulder when Zach poked his head in again.

He shut the door quietly behind him, that calm energy that was so opposite the man I met, putting me at ease as he moved closer. He kept his voice low and soothing as he spoke.

“So I noticed the shoulder. Is there anywhere else we should focus today or is it a general whole body kind of pain?”

“Uh…” It felt weird to tell someone where I was feeling pain so they could fix it. I wasn’t a complainer. I mostly kept that kind of thing to myself unless someone asked specifically.

Like he could tell I was uncomfortable, Zach switched tactics. “Okay, how about this? What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a line cook in a French restaurant downtown.”

He paused from fussing with the sheets, spinning around to look me in the eye. “Wait? Seriously?”

His calm mask slipped a little, and I had to fight back a grin at the look of excitement in his eyes. It felt awkward discussing it while lying down, so I pushed up to my elbows to see him better.

“Yes. It’s called la Rue de Perle. Have you heard of it?”

His mouth fell open, his eyes as wide as dinner plates. “Yes! It’s impossible to get a reservation there! I tried for a present for my dads’ anniversary, but they were booked out for months.”

I loved hearing how successful the restaurant was. We weren’t sure it would be, given the struggles it had when it opened and the hostility humans still had towards paranormals. But the food spoke for itself and it rose in popularity to become one of the best fine dining experiences in the city.

“I can talk to my boss, see if I can get you a reservation. There are always cancellations.”

He squealed, doing a little dance, before he sobered and cleared his throat. “Sorry. Wrong place for that. I’ll freak out later. Let’s get started. Since you’re a chef, I’m assuming you’re on your feet a lot?” When I dipped my chin in agreement, he bobbed his head. “I figured. I’ll start with your back and shoulders and make sure to give some attention to your legs and feet, too.”

He nudged me into lying back down and the smell of him washed over me as he stepped up to the side of the table. Lavender and vanilla, like a sweet dessert. I sighed, letting my mind rest as his hands roamed over my back, gently kneading away the pain.

I was dozing when Zach moved on to my legs. He kept the sheet draped over me, only moving it enough to expose one leg, and pushed his thumbs gently into my calf. I may have accidentally groaned, and he paused, his calm voice breaking the quiet.

“Does it hurt? I can go lighter if–”

“No. It’s good.”

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