Page 30 of My Saintly Demon

“I don’t drink it at all. I use it to cook with.” He bends down and removes a coffee maker and tin of grounds from a lower cupboard. “We have good stuff right here. You didn’t look hard enough.”

I want to say something scathing, but he’s making real coffee, so I choose to bite my tongue.

“I’m surprised you’re awake. After the way you owned Charles on the patio last night, I figured you’d be in bed until noon. We keep Gatorade in the pantry if you need it.”

He sits across from me with a smirk and I count to ten. It wouldn’t be wise to smash my coffee cup into his face.

“I hope you enjoyed the show because that’s as close as you’ll ever get to him.”

Waving his hand, a tray of muffins from the counter floats over and drops onto the table with a thump, spilling some muffins out. X curses and cleans up his mess with a fast glance towards me.

“Before you say anything, I already know I need to work on the finishing move. I start strong but can never finish. That’s my problem.”

“I hope your lovers don’t talk like that to you.”

His mouth gapes as I move to pour a cup of coffee, real coffee, now that the machine has brewed. Because I’ve learned, I’ll never stop being nice, I also bring a cup over to X.

“I’ve never had the chance to get that far, so I wouldn’t know.”

My eyebrows shoot up with that admission. He was coming on to Charles hot and heavy last night and he has no experience? That’s… ballsy.

“So, what brought you two here, if I may ask? You didn’t even have time to pack.”

“How do you know that?”

He gestures to my body.

“Strange house, no shirt and sleep pants that clearly aren’t yours. Am I right?”

Delaying the answer while I drink my coffee, I think of how much I should tell him. I don’t even know how Mike got here and the deal with my dad yet.

“How long have you been here?”

Deflection for information is the better strategy.

“Almost four years now.” He breaks apart a muffin and slides the tray towards me. “They sent me out of my coven because I can’t fit in.”

“That seems harsh. What’s the story?”

He leans back, picking the walnuts out of the carrot muffin and placing them to the side.

“Witches need to cast spells. Not only am I not good at them, but I also don’t like to use them for bad things. It makes me feel gross. My family wasn’t on the side of white magic.” He pauses, and a shadow crosses his face. “Mike found me and told me I could stay here. I’ve never left.”

I watch as he arranges the walnut pieces in a single long row in front of him and eats one from each end.

“Are you happy here? Do you go out into the human world and manage, okay?”

With a playful grin, he snaps his fingers over the walnuts and they form the word yes before bouncing and falling off the table.

I chuckle as he sighs and gathers the pieces off the floor.

“I manage well enough to blend in. Sometimes I forget, though, and I might reach for something high on a shelf and summon it instead. When I do that, it’s always a scramble to cover it up. I look like another human being, so there’s that, too. It’s when we’re in private I can’t always hide things. Like my witch’s mark or how sometimes my auto spells just happen. That’s why, I uh, that’s why I have no experience.”

Clearing his throat, he drinks his coffee and I refill mine. The too small sleep pants of Charles’ I found won’t do for a week. I’ll have to get something else to wear because I’m not sitting around in a suit for five more days. And I should likely remember my manners and not sit at a stranger’s table with no shirt on.

“Good morning, gentlemen.”

Mike appears next to me, reaching for the coffee pot and a mug. He shifts his glance between X and me.

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