Page 23 of My Demon Mate

“For what reason?”

“No supplies,” I mutter, a touch of sadness in my tone. “When I was packing my stuff to go away with you, I was thinking about getting the essentials so I could leave as quickly as possible. Grabbing my meager drawing supplies after how I was treated when my father beat on me was the last thing I was thinking about.”

“Oh Everest. I am sorry,” Raven whispers, kissing my cheek, some of his strength seeping into me. Also his anger. I can feel it through our link, a red hot inferno that he’s barely containing. He’s trying to hide it from me, but he’s not doing a very good job. I’m sure it’s because he’s not used to someone knowing his emotions like he has mine for years. It really warms my heart that he’s trying to comfort me right now instead of flying off the handle. While I want Raven’s aggression when the time comes, right now, I want his arms around me, telling me everything will be okay.

“I didn’t have much,” I continue, swallowing past a lump in my throat. “Just a few pencils I found at the library and a sketch pad that was only a few bucks at the dollar store. But they helped me, you know?” I chuckle. “Of course you know. You’ve been in my head. You know how much drawing means to me.” Raven nods, kissing me lightly on the cheek. I give him a shaky smile. “I should have taken some of those supplies with me, is all.”

“What do you need?” Raven asks, tilting his head.

I shrug. “Not much. A simple sketch pad and pencils are enough. When I can scrounge up enough money, I want to get some of those graphite sketching pencils. They’re great to draw with.”

Smiling to myself, I tip my head back and close my eyes. I only drew with them once, when I was in art class in high school. It was one of the times I remember being truly happy at school. Art class was my escape, the only class that I didn’t worry about failing.

When I open my eyes, I gasp. Raven has an open case in his hands, chock full of all the things I need to draw—a sketch pad, the graphite pencils I was just talking about, charcoal sticks, pastel sticks, an art knife, blending stumps and more. I can’t wrap my mind around everything I’m seeing.

With shaky hands, I reach out to the case, running my fingers over the contents. “Is this … did you get this for me?”

He smiles, a sparkle in his coal black eyes. “I just did, yes. I should have thought of it before I brought you here. I am sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” I breathe incredulously. “Sorry for what? Raven, this is so thoughtful. I’ve never had anyone get me anything close to this before. Once when …” My voice trails off and my throat closes around an unexpected lump. Certain things I try not to think about if I can help it and certain things are buried deep in my brain until something pulls the memory from the recesses of my mind. This is one of the latter.

Shaking my head to push the thoughts away, I smile at Raven, though I’m not sure how it came out. “Thank you. I couldn’t have asked for a better gift.”

Raven searches my face, looking at me hard and long. I try to keep the emotions to myself, but I don’t think I succeed. He sighs and slides me off his lap. “Will you tell me what is wrong? I can feel your sadness.”

Biting my lip, I clutch the case to my chest, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill over. “Yes,” I whisper. “Can I draw while I talk?”

“Anything you want, my sweet Everest.”

“Can I draw you?” I look up at him, my eyes bouncing around his face, wanting to memorize everything. He nods. “Your horns too?”

Raven chuckles, stealing a kiss before he nods again. “You are incorrigible.”

After Raven gets comfortable in a position facing me, he whispers something in his native tongue and his horns wink into existence. I can’t wait to go to Xendail to see them all the time. They’re so fucking hot.

I open the case and smile down at the supplies, not sure where to start. Sure, all sixteen of the graphite pencils are the same, but it’s more about having the option to choose which one I want. When I’m used to collecting pencils people leave behind, having a choice is a big fucking deal.

Once I select a pencil and open the sketch pad, I take a long look at Raven, trying to memorize the proper angles of his face. Then I put the pencil to the surface and drag it across the page. Holy fuck. The glide is smooth, the pencil crawling across the paper with no resistance. I’ll never be able to go back to regular pencils and dollar store sketch books again.

We’re quiet for a few beats, only the sound of the pencil scratching across the paper filling the silence. I smile at the thick line that makes up the shape of Raven’s chin. It’s such a strong chin, such a good portion of his body. I want to see what he looks like in his other form and draw him that way too.

I’m stalling and I know it. I told him I’d tell him what was wrong, but I don’t to talk about those memories. Although it’s a good memory, it’s slightly marred because I was left behind.

Knowing I can’t avoid it any longer, I look up at Raven to see his eyes boring into me. I sigh sadly and get back to my sketch. “I’ve always been an artistic kid. When I was younger, I’d draw everywhere I could. Little doodles in the dirt, on the walls, with my fingers in spilled ketchup. For the last two, I’d get a whooping from my father, but that didn’t stop me.”

Raven growls and I smile, knowing he’d have killed my father back then if he’d known how I was abused.

“It’s okay,” I mutter, glancing back up at him quickly so I can continue to draw. “My mother wasn’t the strongest woman, but she tried to help. After I was caught drawing on the mirror with soap and was sent to my room after a paddling, my mother slipped into my room with a flimsy notebook and some shitty colored pencils.” Again, the lump forms in my throat, not dislodging until I swallow at least three times. “It wasn’t much. The pencils were hard to draw with and the paper kept ripping, but it was mine. I cherished that book.” I chuckle, thinking about how I carried it with me everywhere, even the bathtub.

Then I sober, thinking about what happened to the gift my mother got for me. “Then my father found it. He’s never been a kind man. I don’t remember him saying a nice word to me or treating me like he loved me. Hell, he’s never even told me he loved me. Any way he could bring me and my mother misery, he did.” I blow out a long breath, losing myself for a moment in the curve of Raven’s lips, how they tip up when he smiles softly at me. I brush my finger over a bit of the sketch, smudging it slightly.

“I left the little book in the living room one day when I went to the bathroom. As a kid, I played in the water a lot, since I had to make my own fun. I had no friends, you see?” Raven nods, mouth set in a hard line. “Don’t frown, you’ll mess up the sketch.” Raven rolls his eyes but fixes his face into a neutral expression. “Anyway, I was in the bathroom too long, and my father stumbled across it. He saw all the colors and my shitty little pictures of rainbows and butterflies and he didn’t like it. Called me a little queer and beat me with his belt. I’m not sure if it was the rainbows or just me having something that made me happy that made him think I was gay. Even I didn’t know I was gay then. But yeah, he didn’t like it and he beat me. Then he beat my mother for buying it for me, since I rarely left the house. He knew I couldn’t have gotten the items on my own.”

“That is awful,” Raven mutters, hands clenched tight. I pause for a moment, staring at his hands. I’m not sure if I was seeing things, but I thought they were red. Probably not. It might have been a trick of the light.

“Yeah, it was.” I grin sadly, moving on to drawing Raven’s eyes—my favorite part about him, even though they have no color to them. Maybe that’s why. The deep blackness of them are not of this world. It reminds me that Raven was sent to me and me alone. He’s mine. “But there’s a happy ending of sorts.”

“What is that?”

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