Page 22 of Gift for a Demon

Melchom could see the anticipation and dread already mingling and making his human’s mind go in circles. That was exactly how he wanted him.

CHAPTER 5

DAVE

Dave was bored, which was the wildest thing he’d noticed since his life had taken this… turn. But hours must have passed since Melchom had locked him in his chambers, and there was nothing—nothing but his own head to get lost in and grow even more paranoid. Were those shadows? No, they were not, but his anxiety had already shot through the roof twice because he had no chill.

Then again, he’d rather think about hypothetical shadows on the walls, or debate about the merits of not actually touching the pretty tiaras, than other things.

Jordan.

The life he’d lost, without preamble.

The kids he cared for.

Would Jordan have called the daycare to let them know he wasn’t coming back? His job had never been his favorite thing in the world, but even though he joked and said it paid the bills to anyone who asked… He’d ended up falling for all those blabbering kids.

Now he was never going to play with one or blow raspberries against their chubby little cheeks.

He guessed the minions were Hell’s version of children, but there was no way he’d get anywhere near one if he could help it.

They couldn’t reach him, could they? If he stayed in Melchom’s good graces, and he never left the room, there was no reason for him to do anything. Then again, maybe he should still figure out how to get that lock of hair.

For emergencies.

Dave wasn’t stupid enough to believe he could place all his trust in the demon—even if he was hot, and he had weird moments that made Dave think he wasn’t a complete monster. He was still a demon, and Dave had his mind set on not becoming the cliché gay character in a horror movie.

Not having anything to do was weird, though. At home, he could distract himself by attempting to cook or bake something, or watching TV if there was something decent that wasn’t a remake or way too complex to follow.

At this point, he’d even be okay with dusting or fixing the shelves, but there wasn’t a speck of dust, and even if the shelves could be organized better, Dave wasn’t going to risk the demon’s wrath.

He didn’t know what to do, only that he needed something.

Maybe he could work another deal with Melchom when he arrived—let him have things to do around the room, and he’d give Melchom… something.

It was hard to tell what the demon would be interested in or what Dave would be comfortable offering—not that he had the luxury to consider his comfort.

He was not fully convinced yet that he’d be getting new clothes. There had to be a trick, something Melchom had seen in his head, or a game he’d thought of to mess with him further.

Dave groaned, letting his body slump against the mattress. It was a comfortable bed when he had the bodily autonomy to lean on it and could actually remember it.

Perhaps he could try talking to Melchom. The demon would be impressed, if nothing else, and Dave would have something to do other than stare at the ceiling. Not that he knew a lot about how mind communication worked, but distance didn’t seem to matter, right? The minions might have been closer to his cell, but he couldn’t picture a bunch of demons just waiting outside of the room all day long. He didn’t think Melchom would’ve been a fan, either.

When are you coming back? He used his loudest inner voice while picturing Melchom standing right there in all of his almost naked glory.

He really should stop thirsting about him, but…

No, not going there. Dave shook his head and tried again.

And again.

He gave up by his tenth attempt, letting out a groan. Maybe mere humans like him just didn’t have their brain wired for it.

He slid under the covers. It was weirdly not cold, coming from someone who wrapped himself up in blankets in the middle of summer, but he still didn’t want to be completely exposed for the demon.

The demon he couldn’t stop thinking about, his thoughts going in circles about what he felt or didn’t feel when he was close.

“Summoning me, Dove? Really?”

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