Page 12 of The Devil in the Details

“I will not discuss it. Do you accept the terms of our deal?”

“My hot chocolate recipe for a meal. What are you making?”

“What ingredients do you have?” Without waiting for her to answer, Malgraxon opened every door in the kitchen. What he found was a bunch of nothing. He made a disapproving clicking noise. “This is unacceptable.”

“Ah, well, you see, it’s the end of the month and money’s tight. My pantry is a little bare.” She’d been living on cheese sandwiches and pasta. Not at the same time.

“I will purchase the necessary supplies. Do we have a deal?” He extended his hand.

A Daimoni offering a bargain set off all the warnings in Zelda’s mind. Agreeing to a second bargain was reckless, and here she was, taking his hand. A familiar tingle surged through her.

Malgraxon watched intently as Zelda prepared the hot chocolate. “It’s nothing special. This is just a powdered mix, but I like to add syrup to make it fancy.” He noted the size of the spoonful of mix she used, the temperature of the water, how much peppermint syrup she added to the mug, and even the amount of whipped cream she sprayed on the top.

In the end, he cradled the mug and inhaled. His long, forked tongue flicked down and lapped up the whipped cream. He made a happy, growly noise that bordered on obscene. “This is correct. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing special?—”

“False humility does not suit you. Do not diminish your beauty to appease others.”

Well, she didn’t know how to respond to that. She used an instant mix and not even the fancy brand. It was a discount brand with a cartoon logo. As for beauty, her hair was a mess, and her shirt had an old coffee stain down the front. Glamorous was not the word she’d use to describe herself.

Malgraxon drained his mug and slammed it down on the kitchen counter. “Excellent. Dress for dinner while I prepare our meal. Do you have any allergies or dietary restrictions?”

“Umm, no. I’ll eat anything. I like… food,” she managed to say. Her mind went blank on exactly the type of food she enjoyed because Malgraxon held up her skillet to the light like he was inspecting a treasure. “Sorry, what are you doing?” she asked.

He waved the pan in her direction. “Go. Dress. I want to see you in one of the lovely gowns I purchased.”

“For dinner in my apartment? I’ll ruin it.”

“If you’d rather be naked, I will not complain.” His tongue flicked out, licking his lips, and she blushed hot enough she feared she’d combust.

“Be right back,” she squeaked. Malgraxon’s laughter followed her into her bedroom.

Zelda took a quick shower. Sorting through the estate sale boxes had been dusty work. Apparently, no one bothered to clean the items before packing them away. Zelda had decades worth of dust on her.

The red dress, hastily tossed on the bed, called to her.

With hair still damp and curling around her ears, she opened the box with the black silk panties and matching bra.

Why not? It’d be a crime to wear her old drab things under her lovely new dress.

The silk panties slid over her skin, and the red dress fit like a dream. Turning in front of the mirror, she twisted her head to catch a glimpse of her behind. She felt decadent wearing such expensive things just to hang around her apartment, but she was in no hurry to take them off. As a finishing touch, she wore the meteorite necklace.

When she emerged from the bedroom, dinner waited on the table, along with a fresh bouquet of flowers. Candles had been lit, giving her dingy apartment a shabby chic flair.

Malgraxon kneeled on the floor, attempting to woo Fishtopher with a bowl of milk. The bowl sat between him and the cat.

“He doesn’t drink milk,” she said.

“Your feline is misinformed,” Malgraxon replied. “I can cite multiple sources of Earth lore that indicate that cats drink milk in saucers.”

He pushed the bowl forward an inch. Fishtopher ignored it and licked his paw.

“I hate to tell you, television lied. Adult cats can’t digest milk. It makes Mr. Fish farty, and we don’t want that.”

“Very well.” He dusted his hands on his trousers as he stood. He gave her an appraising look. “You’re as lovely as a falling star. A blazing comet. You must dress like this all the time. I insist we destroy your old rags immediately.”

Zelda smoothed a hand over her stomach. The fabric fit snugly but did not pinch. Most importantly, the fabric belt did not roll down or dig into her waist. “Thanks, but this isn’t practical to wear every day.”

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