Page 46 of My Demon Mate

Before I met Raven, I would have cared. I didn’t like to admit it, but the whispers and the jeers behind my back always made me feel like shit. For days after, I would try to figure out ways I could make myself smaller and not piss anyone off by being who I am. Now? Fuck them all.

“Help you?” the officer asks, narrowing his eyes at me, completely ignoring Raven.

“Um …” I place my hand on the counter, looking around at the beat up police station. This officer is the only one here that I can see, so I wonder if he can just give me the news here so we can be on our way.

“What you want, boy?” the officer asks with his voice full of aggravation. “I ain’t got all day.” Raven growls low in his throat, and Officer Shade sinks back in his chair, properly chastened.

Looking down at the impatient officer, I say, “I’m Everest Carver.” Like he doesn’t know that. Because of who my father is—was–everyone in this town knows who I am. “You called me yesterday to come in.”

“Why didn’t you come in yesterday?” he asks with attitude.

Raven answers for me. “We were not in town yesterday. If we were, we would have. I am sure Everest told you as much when you called.” His tone is hard, warning the officer to be careful.

Taking heed of the warning, Officer Shade nods and picks up his radio from the desk. He lets Sheriff Drake know I’m here. Once the sheriff says he’s on his way, Officer Shade puts down the radio and comes over to the swinging divider, opening it for us. “He’ll want to speak to you in private,” he mutters, waving in front of him to the interrogation room.

I’m not sure how much more private he wants to be, seeing as there is no one here besides Officer Shade, but whatever. Better not to argue so we’re not here longer than we have to be.

Even though Raven said they have nothing on me, I’m the person closest to the deceased, so I can see why I was called. After the fight I had with Jack in public, I’m sure I’m a suspect, even if Raven doesn’t think so.

I sit in one of the rickety chairs at the shitty table and cross my arms. It’s cold in here. The officer looks down at me with disdain. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Not able to help it, I give him a droll look. “Where would I go?”

He scoffs, turns on his heels and leaves the room before Raven can say anything to him for his snark.

While we’re waiting for the sheriff, I look around the room, but there isn’t much to see. The one way mirror—what I mistook for a window from the outside—is scratched and dented, some of the reflective material chipping on the surface. There’s another chair across from me that looks sturdy, not rocking on its legs like mine and Raven’s. That’ll be where the sheriff or whatever officer is interrogating someone would sit in comfort.

I wrap my arms around myself to keep my warmth. There was a documentary on the news about how officers use the cold temperature as a tactic to get someone to talk or confess their crimes. But that won’t work on me. After the torture I went through with my father, they’ll have to try harder to get me to roll over on Raven.

He reaches out and takes my hands in his. Raven’s palms are almost blazing. “Fuck, that feels good,” I say, curling my fingers into his. “Why are you so warm? It’s freezing in here.”

His breath ghosts over my ear when he leans down and says, “All demons run hot.”

An unexpected laugh leaves my lips. “Well, thank god for that.” I pause, then hike an eyebrow. “Or do I thank Lucifer?”

“You’re terrible,” Raven mutters, but he has a small smile on his lips.

Fifteen minutes later—when my fingers are practically popsicles, despite Raven’s warmth—Sheriff Drake walks in. He kicks the door shut behind him as he looks down at some file in his hands. I don’t speak or ask what he’s reading. He probably wouldn’t answer me anyway. He looks up and frowns when he sees I’m not alone but doesn’t otherwise acknowledge me.

He sits, flipping pages up in his file so he can read more and pointedly ignores Raven and me. I stare at him, waiting for him to get on with it so I can go home and cuddle with my demon.

Finally, the sheriff stops pretending to read and looks at me with pure hate in his eyes. I’m not sure what I’ve ever done to him to make him loathe me. Other than being gay, I’ve done nothing to him. I’m quiet, keep to myself, work hard, and go home. Being gay probably is enough to make him hate me, though, just on principle.

“Where you been the past few days? You ain’t been at work neither.” he asks shortly. It’s not where I expected him to go with the conversation.

“Um … I was out of town. At Clinbridge Cove. And I quit Mitch’s place.” I don’t tack on that I quit the night he was murdered and witnessed said murder. I say just enough to answer his questions.

“Uh huh,” he mutters, threading his fingers together behind his head. “When did you go there? Last night?”

I shake my head. “No. The day before.”

“And who can verify that?”

“I can,” Raven says, voice booming in the small room. I smile inwardly as the sheriff starts slightly. He covers it by moving the file he was reading to the edge of the desk.

When his hands stop shaking, Sheriff Drake looks at me. “Proof, besides him?” He thumbs over to Raven but doesn’t look at him again. The abject fear in his eyes makes me happy.

“We had a reservation.” I look at Raven, who nods. Pulling out my old, shitty phone, I scroll through my email and find the check-out paperwork the property manager sent to me. I’m not sure how Raven doctored it, but I won’t ask. As long as there is an alibi, I don’t care.

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