Page 52 of Gift for a Demon

Not that he’d had complaints before. He’d had friends who complained about it and wanted to build muscles and look bigger or more menacing. Dave had always liked his slim frame and the androgynous look it helped him achieve. Yes, it was partly due to society being shitty, but that wasn’t the point now.

Melchom snorted before biting around Dave’s jawline. And, fine, maybe that felt good. Good enough to forget what he was complaining about.

“Do you really want to turn everything into a fight, Dove?”

“Well, n-no,” he spluttered, resting his hands on Melchom’s pecs for… purpose. No other reason. “I’m just saying…”

“Just accept the break I’m giving you today,” Melchom suggested.

That smirk was the thing that kept him from being convinced he’d be getting an actual break, though. Melchom always did that, leaving him with more questions than answers.

“Not a break from everything.”

“Of course not.”

Melchom moved them then, placing him on the bed before taking the towel from him. Dave frowned. He liked that towel.

It was weird that the demon didn’t laugh or retort something. He guessed it must be true he was leaving his head alone. For now.

He wasn’t sure he fully understood why, though. Since when did the demon care that Dave was in pain, or confused, or on the edge of a meltdown? It hadn’t mattered before.

Dave sat up on the bed.

“I liked it before.”

Changing tactics for the win. He considered asking Melchom what had changed, or maybe get some intel. Melchom didn’t talk to him when he did that, though. He talked when Dave proved to be a perfect sex toy. He could do that—focus on the steamy parts and let the bad demon’s defenses crumble.

“What did you like, exactly?” Melchom looked intrigued, his head cocked to the side.

He wasn’t joining Dave in bed, though, and that wasn’t going to work. Dave rolled his eyes. It seemed he had to do it all himself—including coaxing a giant onto the piece of furniture. He usually didn’t have issues getting men to crowd him against a mattress. Was he losing his touch? No, that was ridiculous.

Dave frowned, that train of thought stilled. It really was weird not to have a response to his thoughts now.

“Come and find out,” he breathed out, lips parted.

His heart was racing, and a knot was forming in his throat. Was it really a good idea to offer him access? Probably not. But he… It was comforting—when it was Melchom.

Even with both of them horizontal, Melchom still towered over him, looming. “You want me in your head?”

“Yeah.” Dave ignored the case of dry throat he’d come down with. “Just you, right?”

For a few seconds, the demon stood eerily still. “Just me.”

Dave saw that flicker in Melchom’s eyes before he noticed a tiny zing in his head. It wasn’t painful—not even uncomfortable—but the awareness made him gasp. He hadn’t noticed it before, but he didn’t want to question it too much. Maybe he was just simply growing more attuned to having his brain prodded at.

“Do I just think things?”

“You can try.”

It felt indulgent, but Melchom was dreaming if he thought the teasing tone would discourage him.

So Dave pictured it.

No one could fault him for having an—at times overactive—imagination. Most of the time, it had complicated things.

Not now, he mused before he started bombarding the demon.

Bombarding was probably a strong word, but Dave focused on the memories he wanted Melchom to see, as if they were 3D screens he was lunging in the demon’s direction.

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