Page 1 of The Misfit Mage and His Darling Demon

1

Walter

My entire body trembled in Bez’s grasp, his chest pressed against mine, a hand firmly planted between my shoulder blades keeping me in place while his other hand rested delicately at the small of my back. I kept my thighs tightly wrapped around Bez’s waist, my hands hooked at the joints of his wings. Even with my eyes squeezed shut, I could feel his smirk. It caused a tug in my own trembling cheeks.

Our minds, bodies, and emotions were very much our own, yet something primal coursed through us. The Diabolic essence he’d shared with me created this synchronized spark.

That said, whatever joy he had in this moment didn’t pass to me. I gritted my teeth, annoyed and uncomfortable. He moved too quickly, too aggressively—I could barely catch my breath.

“Bez…” I gasped. “You need to slow down.”

“Relax. I’m almost there.” Bez slid his hand further down, then gripped my butt.

“Don’t you dare get any ideas.”

“What? I’ve always wanted to join the mile high club.”

Bez flapped his wings rapidly. I opened my eyes, squinting from the furious wind carried between the two of us in the night sky as he soared faster, which helped add to the scowl I gave.

“Fine.” He huffed. “Just want to get a firm grip on—what is it you mortals call it, a slice of pie?”

“The expression is cake,” I said, feigning frustration because his touch did excite me. “You know this.”

He’d referred to my ass as cake multiple times. Attempting to introduce Bez to social media in an effort to catch him up with the millions of things he’d missed out on when trapped inside the orb was a huge mistake on my part.

“Ah, yes. Cake.” His red eyes glimmered. “Such a lovely cake you’ve got. I must ensure my dessert is properly secured.”

With that, Bez took a sharp turn, zigging and zagging through the sky. The jostle churned my stomach a hundred different ways as he seemed to follow the street patterns below—completely unnecessary considering we flew high above even the tallest Chicago buildings.

“Here.” Bez descended.

I craned my neck, taking in the bright city lights so luminescent it was as if night couldn’t pierce the busy streets. High beams from oncoming traffic caused a glare in my glasses, and the sound of every car raddled in my head, a nauseating cacophony of blasting music, honking horns, and accelerating mufflers.

Bez hovered above, outpacing the flow of traffic on the highway leading deeper into the city. He hated noisy cities—even when dimming his senses, any venue with too many people made him irritable. Yet, the second he got home today, he demanded we leave the house for some impromptu outing toChicago. If I’d known he was going to fly me all the way there, I would’ve protested harder.

Bez landed in an alleyway downtown. My legs wobbled as he released me, so I kept my hands on his shoulders until I found my bearings. He didn’t allow me a chance to rest or catch my breath, though, pulling me out onto a less crowded street near some secluded restaurant.

I took in the elegant stonework of several buildings and the prominent turquoise clock of the historic Marshall Field.

“Whoa. How in the…” The drive from Galena to Chicago was three hours, yet according to the time, we’d gotten here in under thirty minutes. Still, I would’ve preferred flying on my own, broom in hand, saturated with my mana to maintain a gentle breeze and at an appropriate speed. Not Mach whatever matched a jetliner, forcing me to hold on for dear life. “What are we doing downtown?”

“We’re here for a night on the town—something to celebrate.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “Celebrate what?”

“Our anniversary, of course,” Bez said plainly as if it should’ve registered.

Our what?No, no, no.

“Six months today.”

This wasn’t our anniversary. Not possible. I’d never forget the date, any date—I’m incredibly good at remembering specific details, one of the few skills I had going for me. Though, I’d been totally engrossed by work lately, doing my best to make the most out of my freelance gigs because as grateful as I was to have Bez in my life, as much as I wanted to walk away from the Collective, the policies, the hypocrisy, I very much missed the repository. Cataloging fenced artifacts didn’t come close to the sophistication or resources of working in the archives of theMagus Estate, but it offered a routine which I needed for some semblance of normalcy.

My head pounded, thoughts spiraling through a hundred different things. I’d done what I always did. I’d allowed myself to become so fixated by work that time simply vanished. No. Not possible; our six-month anniversary was nineteen days away. I glanced at my phone, checking the date because there was no way I’d screwed this up. And if we were getting technical, itwasnineteen days, five hours, and thirty-two minutes away.

“This…” I bit my lip. “I think you’re, um, well, maybe…you’re incorrect because—”

“Look at that frazzled little face trying to piece it all together.” One of Bez’s tails playfully tickled my chin as he strutted past me toward the neighboring restaurant. It was in an elegant building, so he must’ve made reservations. “This is not our dating anniversary, the one you so desperately needed to put a label on…”

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