Page 25 of Gift for a Demon

“Scared?” Dave felt bold enough to taunt.

He started at the base, noting the softness in the unruly strands of hair that didn’t stay in place inside the twisted braid.

“Careful, Dove.”

The words should’ve been scary, but Dave barely registered them. He was too busy tracing the thin horns. They were hard to the touch, reminding him of the marble countertops in a fancy store he’d accompanied Jordan to once. He’d promised he’d have a kitchen refurbished with stuff from there one day.

Dave shook his head. There was no point in revisiting the past.

Instead, he let the tip of his finger reach the pointy end of the horn. He was surprised Melchom wasn’t teasing him more or trying to scare him, but Dave wouldn’t look down. It would only get him lost in the demon’s eyes, the specks of darkness he shouldn’t be uncomfortably attracted to.

The tip of the horn was as sharp as he’d thought, scratching his skin. Dave’s eyes widened, pulling his hand back before blood could come out. Pain didn’t scare him, and a part of him was curious about what it would feel like and what would happen. What would Melchom do?

But something stopped him, a force bigger than himself taking over the reins and keeping him away before he could find out.

Dave was trying to figure out where it came from when he felt his airway constrict as he was shoved against the wall, a few items rattling behind him on impact. Looking down, he saw Melchom had grabbed him by the neck. The pressure wasn’t enough to kill him, but it was enough to kickstart all his instincts.

“Who have you talked with, human?” The words were growled out, no teasing or amusement behind them.

Dave flinched. He hadn’t missed the disgust in that single word. Dove sounded much better—like he mattered and was more than a discarded thought or a passing annoyance.

Dave had grown used to the hint of enjoyment in Melchom’s eyes, too. He’d been using it to calm himself down, to allow himself room to tease and push back, to feel he had an ounce of control.

If that was missing, he was lost again, staring at a future where he was in an unknown place, subjugated to a creature that wanted him to doubt everything, to wallow in fear. And he was giving him exactly what he wanted.

The more Melchom’s fingers squeezed his trachea, the more his heart rate picked up. Melchom’s nostrils flared in that way when he was taking in all the pheromones that Dave exuded.

Spots appeared in his vision, his breath shortening and quickening. There was no point, but Dave’s hands still flew up, wrapping around Melchom’s wrist. Knowing the demon wouldn’t budge apparently didn’t keep his more primal instincts from trying. It just added to the despair building up, to the hopelessness clutching around his heart and holding it with a tighter grip than Melchom had on his neck.

He was sure he was about to pass out when the demon let go of him, letting him slump against the ground.

Dave felt like he was on fire, his lungs screaming at him to breathe while his throat seemed unable to work right. Tremors ran through his body. “Why?” he managed to croak out, eyes glued to the floor.

If Melchom wanted him to be scared, he would be—no challenging him, no being the fiery human he so supposedly liked.

There wasn’t an answer to his question right away, only ragged breaths he wasn’t too keen to overanalyze right then.

“Astaroth wasn’t right about you.”

“O-okay.”

Melchom would never just tell him who that Astaroth person was, or what they’d said, right? Dave might as well preserve the oxygen he was still recovering from the unexpected assault. Where had that come from? And what did he even mean, who had Dave talked with? The only things Dave could’ve talked with were the minions if he’d ventured into the bathroom—which he hadn’t—and they weren’t his biggest fans. Not to mention, it wasn’t like he could easily keep things secret when everyone around him could read his mind.

Go to bed.

The booming voice in his mind startled him. It forced him to look up, to watch Melchom’s unwavering expression.

“You can just use your words.”

“Or I can make you do it,” the demon warned. “I told you, you’re not in a position to make demands.”

“Then make me.”

Was he glaring too much? Laying it on too thick? It wouldn’t matter, would it?

It was Dave’s luck, which he’d thought he had some of when he’d landed with a demon who didn’t jump at torturing him and would hold a conversation. But no, he’d landed the one demon who would be more paranoid than Dave at his worst moments, only he literally had all the tools to not be.

Dave fumed.

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