Page 97 of The Girl Who Inherits the Dead

“You’re upset,” she starts, quiet. “You’re upset and that’s okay.”

He opens his mouth to respond, but she holds up a hand, stopping him short.

“Do you want me to never talk to you again? Or are you saying it out of self-sacrificing bullshit?”

He closes his mouth.

“I don’t like the self-sacrificing bullshit,” she declares, and there’s a ghost of a smile on his face, almost there, and she’ll take it as he stares up at her, still sitting on the bed, and her so close.

He reaches a hand out to her, tentative, settling it on her lower back. Like with just one tug in, he would pull her on top of him. Kiss her, overwhelm her, with her straddling him and him in control of all of it.

Of course, he doesn’t.

For a few wild seconds, she debates pushing towards him, making the move herself. Debates grabbing his hair and kissing him herself, see what he does.

If this morning is any indication, he’d kiss her right back.

She could have it back, she realizes with a jolt, with his arm strong around her and he stares up at her, eyes grey and beautiful. She could have him, just as devoted as before. Face this new world of magic and the dead together, with him right next to her.

And because of the fucking demon bond, he would do it in a heartbeat.

His lips part, at something on her face. “Are you okay?”

“It depends, are you going to go more into the self-sacrifice bullshit if I say otherwise?” she asks, and risks brushing his hair away from his forehead.

“If I promise not to?” he asks, voice low, like he’s reading into her mind.

“I’m just confused,” Delina admits, and it’s not the suave self she has in her mind, and for a few minutes she considers walking away from the conversation. “Things keep on changing faster than I can get a grip on them, and this is just one more of them.”

She doesn’t specify what ‘this’ is, and he swallows, his arm tightening around her back, and for a wild second she thinks he is going to do it, going to thoroughly mess up any sort of balance they’ve reached, and for a wild second she hopes that he does.

“We’ll practice more,” he says, instead, going for the obvious safer option. “It’ll be too good of an advantage for you to have a full demon in power on your beck and call than to not.”

Delina bites back the disappointment at that, and sees it mirrored in his eyes, so she pulls away, and his arms fall back down.

“Do you want to go get drunk?” she asks, and he blinks.

Of course,the moment they peek their heads out of the room, Gurlien makes them sit on the couch and walks Chloe through a barrage of diagnostic spells that do nothing to Delina but make her nose itch.

All they tell anyone is that Maison is, indeed, back to normal and Delina is a little lower energy than she otherwise would be.

All things she could have told them.

All things she could have told them, and Maison’s gaze on her is heavy, lingering, until she abruptly stands from the tests, her heart beating too hard in irritation.

“Am I in any danger if I go have a fucking drink?” she asks, probably sharper than is polite.

“It’s like…three PM,” Chloe starts, which isn’t helpful, before she cranks her head to look outside. “And it’s either going to rain slush or snow tonight, that’s not gonna be fun.”

“It snowed in Prescott. Sometimes.” Maison also stands, shaking out his hands, like the scan affected him way more. “You said there was a dive bar?”

Gurlien narrows his eyes at him, then at Delina. “Just because you saw her as a demon doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to sleep with her again,” he says.

Delina closes her eyes. “Look, I did a weird death thing and now I want a coping mechanism.”

“Alcohol’s not a great one,” Chloe says, but she’s already reaching for her bag. “Dive bar?”

“Dive bar.”

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