Page 85 of The Succubi's Choice

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After a week and a half of breathtaking nothingness, of no attention from anyone, she wakes up to find the Archdemon in her living room, writing casually on some post-it notes.

“I’m putting some runes up,” he says, not even looking up at her. “There’s been some attention on you yesterday.”

She pauses, still definitely in her pajamas that are not cute, before diverting to her fridge, grabbing her appetite drink, and flopping on the couch next to him. Not touching, she’s not that creepy, but close.

He gives her a sideways glance as if knowing exactly what she’s doing, before continuing to write on the post it notes. He’s using a sharpie, and it looks out of place in his elegant hand.

“Well?” She says, still sleepy, “what runes are you putting up?”

None of them look familiar, none of them look standard, and she’s gonna double check all of them after he leaves, but might as well see what he’s saying about them.

“This one’s so anyone wishing you or your roommate ill will can’t pass through the door jamb,” he says, handing her one. The post-it note is chilly against her hand, so she places it on the coffee table almost immediately. “This one is to send you a text if someone besides you or your roommates walk in when you’re not inside.”

“Jacqueline’s not actually a roommate,” Miri says, squinting at it, “but might as well include her.”

“She’s asleep here now, so I did,” he says, offhand, and Miri gives him a wide-eyed glance, before deciding to tease Gabriel mercilessly as soon as she can because Jacqueline is obviously not asleep on the couch and she doubts she’s sleeping on the floor.

“Probably smart.”

“This one is to notify me if you’re attacked in your house,” he says, like it’s not a weird invasion of privacy that she doesn’t know if she likes. “If someone gets through, if someone slips past these, I want to know.”

“So what, making you an emergency contact?” She tries for a joke, but it falls short. “You don’t think that’s weird? Shouldn’t it notify Gabe or something?”

Not-Thomas takes the post-it note from her, adding a few extra lines in quick, practiced motions. “What’s his phone number?”

Miri digs out her phone, and it’s so bizarre, that he adds some things that are definitely not numbers onto the tiny little post-it note. “What attention was there on me?” She asks, grabbing one of the couch blankets and wrapping it over her shoulders.

Again, the sidelong glance, one that’s almost kind and almost fond. “Some people don’t like my ideas, so they look for vulnerabilities,” he says, as if she is a piece in a chess game. “I don’t intend on making that easy on them.”

“Hmmm,” she says, and he scowls at her practiced nonchalance. “Is that why you haven’t spoken to me in a bit?”

“I’ve been astoundingly busy,” he says, starting to write on another post-it note. “Do you have a work car, something you can drive to locations?”

“What, are you gonna stop me from getting in car accidents with a post-it note?” She asks, sipping from the chalky appetite suppressant. It hasn’t quite been the same since she had the pheromone wine, and that facts irritates her to no end. “Were you just...planning on leaving these if I didn’t wake up when you were here?”

“Pretty much,” he says, lightly, like that’s not even more creepy than finding him there. “I should have come to do this earlier.”

Another rune, and this one she recognizes from anyone’s house that has even a remote magical presence. “No, don’t do that one, Gabriel would waste so much energy with the AC bill if we have a heating rune.”

“You’re literally always cold,” he says, puzzled. Like he can’t comprehend.

“Yes, but here I can put on more jackets and blankets and he can’t,” she says, gesturing with the fluffy blanket. “It’s a trade-off.”

He hesitates, then crumples the post-it note without even finishing it. “Your choice,” he says, as if inherently skeptical of it. “Are you carrying your gun more places?”

“I mean, I can, but I try not to,” she says, and he knocks shoulders with her, and the physical contact immediately draws tears into her eyes, and he puts down the sharpie and the pad of notes and places his arm around her shoulders.

After a second of resisting it and a second of trying to feel impervious to it, she caves, leaning against him, pressing the side of her body to the side of his.

“Are you that tired?” He asks, and she can feel the rumble of his voice as clear as she can hear it. “I know you just woke up, but...”

“No, I’m okay,” she says, not quite willing to pull away, her body feeling like it’s melting against his. He’s so warm, so infernally hot, so feverish, that it cuts through the blanket around her and pools in her stomach. “I’m okay if you’re okay.”

“This is fine,” he says, a small undercurrent of tension in his voice. “Are they really stopping you from doing this?”

“I told my handler that I just cuddled with someone all night for the orgy and that’s why I had extra power, and he almost bought it,” she says, leaning her cheek against his chest, where she can feel the rise and fall of every breath he takes. “I almost got written up for it.”

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