Page 66 of The Misfit Mage and His Devilish Desires

“Getting comfortable in your own skin?” I asked, playful and light and a little concerned about the distance between us. It was invisible and silent but looming all the same. “Would’ve expected you to possess someone new when we got back home. Maybe not right away. I know you’re picky. And there was so much happening. But now there’s this lull…”

“No lull,” Bez whispered. “I feel the same dread and concern that’s eating away at you.”

I widened my eyes, really looking at him but not seeing the weight of stress and panic.

“When we returned, I worried there’d be a devil on our heels before we removed that damned flame key copy,” Bez explained. “Then we lost it. I lost it. I foolishly—”

“Bez, it’s not your fault.”

“It is.” He sighed. “And I keep waiting for a devil to swoop into this world and slaughter us all. Lilith on the run, somehow escaping. Beelzebub somehow exploiting the ajar door to Lilith’s Hell. Sure, he’s missing part of his essence. But an open door to Hell is much different than a sealed dimension.”

My heart surged, almost instinctively searching for the rhythmic pace of Bez’s. A fast beat he lacked in his demon body, but his voice registered elevated tension, fear.

“I figured Beelzebub would be especially motivated to finish his battle with Lilith and come track me down for daring to escape. For fleeing a battlefield like a coward. For stealing essence from my betters.”

“Bez…” I stepped closer, hating the distance between us—literal and otherwise, but cautious because he looked a moment away from collapsing into the fear he kept hidden behind layers of snarky jokes and one-liner innuendos and ever-brave bravado.

He hated appearing weak, hated being vulnerable, hated being anything other than a protector.

“Is that why you’re in your demon form? Does it make you stronger?” I asked, letting a small smile creep out. “I know sometimes you complain about the limitations of the mortal coil.”

“I just don’t wanna feel,” he breathed the words like they were suffocating him, choking him on emotions he didn’t very much care for acknowledging. “I don’t deserve to feel the pleasures of the world. I don’t wanna feel the pleasures when I’m in this much pain.”

“Oh, Bez.”

“I know you’re worried they could arrive at any point,” he continued. “Tomorrow, a year from now, a century away. It could be a thousand-year battle between Lilith and Beelzebub. It could take a million trips around the sun for the Earth. It could never happen at all. Perhaps they both killed each other. Maybe a scheming devil with wicked machinations sprang on the duel between former supreme rulers, pounced upon them, and brought an end to their reigns.”

“You think that’s possible?”

“That’s the problem.” He sighed. “Anything’s possible. For all we know, the doors to Hell have been closed off. We could look. I could send my essence out, skulk between the layers of different dimensions, and check.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I’m afraid to see the answer,” he said with a slight tremble in his voice. “It’s my fault. My impulsivity.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is, Walter.” Bez turned away. “I was afraid of being trapped again inside an orb. Forgotten. Forever.”

“You will never be forgotten.” I kissed the space between his shoulders, soft and gentle. Bez didn’t move, didn’t react. He just stood there, his wings hanging low and somber. I spun him to face me. “Please don’t dwell on what happened. Let’s just focus on the now.”

“There’s no fixing the now.”

“I’ve got ideas. Percolating.”

“Such as?” He cocked his head.

“Not saying because you never listen to my rambles anyway.” I teased.

He kissed me, sloppy and wet and with teeth, obnoxious and playful and somehow so fucking hot. Then he nibbled on my lower lip, the one I wanted to bite now just so I wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t ramble, but he already knew how to shut me up.

“I listen to every annoying word that you utter, you beautifully insufferably addictive man.”

Bez kissed me again. In seconds, we’d gone from playful to frisky to engulfed in a passionate make-out session.

He grinded against me, the heat of his body burning hotter with each kiss. I found myself lost in his touch, the way he ran his clawed hands down my sides, the smack of his lips against mine as he squeezed my ass, the thrust of his hips as he pushed me back.

I expected him to shove me several feet across the room, stopped only by the wall where he’d pin me in place, but my wings stretched, flapped once, and braced our position. A gale of black wind circled us, adding to the chaotic passion of each kiss.

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