Page 77 of Gift for a Demon

Jordan had been a ray of sunshine he hadn’t thought he’d find. He’d taken Dove under his wing, introduced him to everything and everyone. Jordan had bought him his first dress, had pretended to be a referral for job interviews, had cooked for him when he was sick. He’d had this ability to give a positive spin to everything—even when Dove had been strapped to a hospital bed or running around to escape whatever voice had gotten in his head.

Dove would’ve never walked away from Jordan. He followed him like a moth.

Perhaps that had been the problem. But he would never know, never have those answers. It was hard to put a positive spin on any of the other mirrors after that.

But… if Melchom, his demon, took him to Jordan, if he got those answers… Maybe Dove could rest easy. Maybe he would stop questioning everything. After all, if Jordan had sent him to Hell, banishing him to a life of servitude to a powerful demon he didn’t know… Who said Melchom wouldn’t turn on him, too? Who said there would ever be anyone who wouldn’t leave?

At least, anyone who wasn’t his new puppy. Thinking of Gaz sent a pang through his chest. It felt like a thread, pulling him down, perhaps toward her. He should know more about the way these things worked.

Dove sat down against one of the thousands of walls, pulling his knees to his chest. The sky here was full of white doves flying in flights, without a worry in the world. The sight made him smile.

There was something in his head that was good, that was just right. He was glad for it. Calmness washed over him as he stared at them, wondering if one of them would ever fly down to him and let him pet them.

Melchom had given him that sky. Dove’s smile grew bigger. He didn’t know what it meant for him, or the two of them, moving forward. What Dove knew was that he found himself wrapped up in warmth, a type of warmth that felt a lot like that time Melchom had carried him around all afternoon. Melchom had given him some kind of excuse—a reasoning that hadn’t made any sense, something about not getting Dove out of his sights because his minions were spewing nonsense. It hadn’t mattered then. It didn’t quite matter now, either.

Dove wished he had more control over the way time ran when he was in his head. He wished he could always be material. He thought that Melchom wouldn’t leave then.

His head soon grew lonely, another cell he found himself trapped in.

That was when he started crying. The tears flowed freely without an order or logic behind them. He cried for what had happened in Melchom’s chambers, for all the fear he’d felt, and the pain, and the anguish as he’d waited for Astaroth to strike again. He cried for Melchom because he was now King again, but he’d never looked sadder. For the pain etching all of his features while he’d been feeding off Dove.

He cried for his old self too. The kids at the daycare. The friendships he hadn’t built and the dates he hadn’t gone to. The dreams he’d never fulfill.

He cried for… everything. For his mother, too, because she was never allowed to see him past his father’s lens. The family members that had visited in the summer who never heard from him again. The neighbors he’d baked cookies for when he first rented his own place.

Dove?

There was urgency in the voice.

Melchom’s voice.

Only Melchom could visit him here.

Dove glanced up. The demon was kneeling before him, one arm reaching out but not quite touching. Dove smiled. Outside of the shitty lighting—was that something Melchom could fix now that he was King?—his demon was even more gorgeous.

His ivory crown shone, the jewels there glinting. He really looked good. If Melchom had been human, Dove would’ve been salivating over him. He still was.

I love you, Dove murmured, cutting the distance between the two of them. He didn’t care if he got snot all over him.

Melchom’s eyes widened. Dove laughed.

You do?

He thought it all looked like it belonged in one of those romcoms he sometimes watched. He didn’t care.

Why are you here?

You’re here. Melchom’s mood soured. Dove felt it like an arrow piercing through his gut. The pain made him curl down, letting his forehead rest against the demon’s chest.

There was a heartbeat there. He wasn’t sure he’d noticed before.

I don’t know how to leave.

Your brain is not ready to wake up yet, Melchom explained. It’s fine.

It wasn’t fine. His demon wasn’t that good of a liar. There had to be something else, some reason why he couldn’t stay here like this. But he knew Melchom wouldn’t say, and it was… It was okay. Melchom could be idiotic sometimes, but Dove would show him.

I think I need to talk to Jordan, he said—repeated.

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