Page 16 of Claiming a Demon

I swallowed hard, the backs of my eyes burning. I love my dad. Not that I didn't love the rest of my family, we all cared about one another. But the bond my dad and I had was different. He basically set my career into motion, and every time I came to visit, we’d disappear for a few hours in the kitchen to experiment with new recipes. Losing him would kill me.

“What happened?” Zach cajoled gently.

“He, uh… He took a turn. Mom says he’s okay now, and they got it under control before it got too bad, but for a little while we didn’t know if he’d come out of it. If it happens again, he’ll need to be moved into a healer facility and monitored closely.”

“Why doesn’t he go now?”

I grimaced. That’s what I said when I went to see him. No one listened to me. My mom is big on healing at home and my sisters all shot down my suggestion as cruel. I knew they were all worried. A good portion of demons who went into those facilities never came back out again. But on-call healers couldn’t always be there at a moment’s notice. If they didn’t get to Dad quickly, he could go past the point of rescuing. At least at the facility, he’d be watched 24/7.

“My family thinks it hasn’t progressed enough for that.”

“You don’t agree.”

He wasn’t asking. He said it matter-of-factly, like it was written on my face. It probably was. I was still struggling to keep myself together, and I doubted I was hiding my emotions well.

“No. I think it’d be safer to have him in there. But it’s not up to me. I left when I knew he was comfortable, but I haven’t been able to focus since. I can’t even do my job that well because my mind isn’t where it needs to be.”

I sank in on myself. If I lost my dad, I wasn’t sure I could continue to do my job anymore. Cooking was our thing to do together and it would hurt to do it with him gone. But it’d also hurt to lose that connection to him. That was why I panicked. Everything was mixed up in my head and I couldn’t make a decision to save my life. Everything felt too heavy and I couldn’t cope.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ZACHARIAH

The heartbroken look on Mal’s face nearly killed me. I didn’t even think about it before I was on my feet in front of him, pulling his head against my chest and hugging him close. It was no wonder he was so upset earlier. I would be distraught if one of my dads was sick. Mal hesitated for only a second before his big arms wrapped around me. He hugged me tightly, like he could barely hold himself together and needed me to anchor him. I was happy to do it. I needed a minute anyway. His story was heartbreaking. We stayed that way, just holding each other, until I felt like I could look him in the eye without bawling like a baby.

Leaning back a little so I could see his face, I tipped my head at him. “Have you told your friends?”

Mal said he was close to them, but he shook his head in denial and sighed. “I didn't want to admit it out loud. They know the survival rate for things like this, and I couldn’t handle it if I saw the knowing looks on their faces. He has to come out of this. I can’t–”

His voice cracked, and I could see the emotions choking him. I pulled him back against me, careful of his horns as I basically smothered him with affection. I didn’t have a clue about paranormal diseases or their survival rates. All I knew was Mal was struggling, and he needed this. He shifted backwards, pulling me with him until I was sitting in his lap, his head tucked against me. Butterflies exploded in my belly at the intimate position, but I pushed it aside. He needed comfort right now, not a twink with a crush fawning over him.

I wasn’t sure how long we stayed that way. I refused to move until he was ready, and he never made any indication that he wanted me to let go. My fingers absentmindedly ran through his hair, my gaze unfocused as I thought about ways to make him feel better. The first being figuring out how to get his family to listen to him. I didn’t know their dynamic, but if Mal was this scared, then he had to have a reason. They needed to listen to him and at least hear him out.

Inviting myself into someone else’s family drama wasn’t really my style. But protecting the people I cared about was. If this was so bad that Mal was panicking, then I wanted them to at least consider what he had to say. I wasn’t sure how, but I was going to get them to listen to him.

His grip on me eventually loosened, but he still looked so sad when he let me go. I put my planning on hold, focusing on helping him here and now.

“Tell me what I can do to make you feel better.”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Just being around you helps.”

That made me melt, and I had to seriously rein in the urge to kiss him. My crush was reaching epic proportions, and I didn’t want to chase him off while he was going through something. I trailed my fingers over his face, my heart squeezing tightly in my chest when he leaned into my palm.

“Want to have a sleepover? If being around me helps, I’m all for you sticking around. We can watch tv and make dinner together, and I can keep you distracted for at least one night. Sounds like a plan?”

“Are you sure? It’s your day off. You shouldn’t have to take care of me.” He looked tentatively hopeful, which was cute.

I smiled softly. “I’m sure. I like being around you, too.”

* * *

I did my best to keep Mal distracted for the rest of the afternoon. It was easier than I thought since he’d never seen any of my favorite reality tv shows. Those, plus my amazing commentary, kept him relaxed and distracted. I even saw a few smiles peek out when I went off on a rant about how the people on the screen were making stupid choices. Reality tv is so fun. It’s easy to judge when you aren’t there in the moment, and I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt over it.

Aside from when we cooked dinner, Mal stuck close to me. We cuddled on the couch with me tucked against his side and I absolutely loved it. If things weren’t so rough right now, I might’ve given in to asking him out. I’d kept that question from popping out of my mouth for every massage session we’d had so far, but this parody of domestic bliss was making me feel antsy. I wanted more, and I wasn’t sure how long I could keep that to myself.

“Are you sure you want me to stay here? I feel okay now. I can go home.”

“‘Okay’ isn’t ‘good’. I want you to feel good before I set you free in the world again. So until you feel good, you’re stuck with me,” I called from the bathroom. I was doing my nighttime skin routine to distract myself from the fact that there was a very handsome demon getting into my bed. I had ‘we’re just friends’ on repeat in my head, delaying going into the room until I couldn’t anymore without him realizing something was up.

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