Page 11 of Demon

When he waggled his brows like Lonnie had earlier, Lonnie’s heart just sort of stuttered. And again, Lonnie thought about how Callan should smile more often. His rugged face was meant for smiles over the usual frowns—though he was just as attractive then. And just knowing that Callan liked men had butterflies flitting through Lonnie’s stomach. “What ended the relationship, if you don’t mind answering? If you both live long lives, you could still be together.”

“We both wanted to feel…needed. Both had protective natures and wanted something different. He’s still my friend. We—” He broke off, a frown of concentration pulling his brows closer together. “Like each other still. Get together sometimes. The sex is good.”

Holy hell, the thought of sex with Callan immediately filled Lonnie’s head, and he was so glad Callan couldn’t read his thoughts. Still, his body responded and he, casually as possible,grabbed one of his throws and put it over his lap. What would this demon be like in bed? Or up against walls? Was he just a top or did he like taking it as well? The thought of fucking Callan made him start to sweat. As a verse man, he liked sex every way it came. Nerves set in, and as usual, his mouth just took off.

“My last relationship was with a man, too. Richard. He’s a teacher at the school so I still see him a lot, unfortunately. He was always trying to change me. Didn’t like the way I kept my house. Didn’t like my body.”

Callan’s gaze flicked down to his chest then back up. “There’s nothing wrong with your body.”

“I’m a little thicker than he liked.”

“Look cuddly to me. Cuddly is the sexiest.”

That made Lonnie’s mouth snap shut. Was Callan calling him sexy? He resisted the urge to squirm.Gah.

Richard hadnotbeen a cuddler. And afterglow had never been in his wheelhouse either. Sex, then jumping up to immediately shower before crashing instantly into sleep. Come to think of it, Richard had never been much for foreplay, either. Hell, what had Lonnie been even doing with the man? Richard was good looking—very, actually. And he’d been charming. Most of the things that had annoyed Lonnie, he’d written off as quirks like his own. They’d shared a love of anime, though Richard had hated all the figurines and called them dust collectors. He’d also harped on how Lonnie unboxed everything, saying they were all worth more mint in box.

Lonnie had never cared about that. His collection was meant to be enjoyed the way he liked, and he liked all the collectibles outside of their boxes and displayed with their various parts. Dust was the only real problem. He did keep the boxes—had them all contained in bigger boxes in his attic, though there was a pile in the guest room’s closet he would eventually move tothe attic. Most of his piles eventually made their way into better spots. Though that was normally other piles.

His bedroom had also bothered Richard, who’d been a neat freak deluxe. Another of his quirks that Lonnie had just accepted. When he had stayed over at Richard’s, he’d always made sure to keep his clothes neat and wash up any dishes he used right away.

“You have no more questions?” Callan asked, breaking into his memories.

“Sorry. I was thinking about Richard and how badly we clashed. I do have more, but I should get back to grading and let you get back to the show. You seem to be enjoying it.”

Callan gave an enthusiastic nod. “I like it very much. Would like to see more of these cartoons you love so much.”

“Oh, good! It’ll be so fun to share my favorites with you. Watch them again through new eyes. There’s an entire wonderful world of them I plan to introduce you to.”

Chapter Seven

Callan

A handful of days passed. This morning, Callan once again sat at the back of Lonnie’s classroom, trying hard to ignore all the thoughts bombarding his head.

Wonder if Brad is ever going to ask me out?

I’m so fucking invisible. If I ran naked through the school, would anyone even notice?

Professor Russell is kinda hot.

That last one made Callan glare into the room, not sure who it came from. At least that one was kind of paying attention to the teacher.

Callan closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. After so many years dealing with this part of his magic, he had tricks he’d learned to shut out the voices. He pictured his home, where his father still lived in Massachusetts. The peaceful woods around the four-bedroom Cape Cod house. Then he pulled up a memory of catching frogs with his brothers in the creek that ran behind their house, remembering how Nathaniel had fallen in, gotten pissed, then pulled the rest of them into the water until they were all streaked with mud. He pictured their mother comingto find them and laughing when she saw the state they were in. She’d ushered them all home and poured buckets of water over them in the back yard. Back then, it hadn’t been the Cape Cod house, though, but a small cabin his father had built. It had been warm and cozy and always filled with the smell of baking bread. His father had built a big brick oven that took up half the front room.

Callan still missed his mother. She’d loved her half-demon sons, showing them off with a fierce pride, though she was always careful to make sure they’d donned their glamours before taking them into the small village that had been a long walk from their land. Unlike Lonnie, she hadn’t been able to see through glamours, though she’d loved her sons in both guises equally. And she’d loved her husband, always smiling at his gruff exterior and working to bring out his rare smiles. He’d grown so remote in the years since her death. Callan should visit. It had been over eight months since he’d made a flight home.

His memories had worked, quieting his mind, so he opened his eyes and his senses. The notes indicated that Lonnie’s stalker was sometimes in these classes, so he worked to focus on one voice at a time. Then he got distracted by Lonnie himself.

The human really was hot, nokindaabout it. He liked to walk around the room as he spoke, his voice soothing, velvety. He pointed often to the large screen in the front of the room, today’s image something about the hero’s journey. Yesterday, the lecture had involved saving cats for some reason.

Callan liked to hear Lonnie speak. And he very much liked looking at him. At his short, supple body and that silky hair he kept pulled back in his usual knot. Those wide lips were on the thinner side, but so kissable.

Lonnie fiddled with his glasses, pushing them up on that cute little nose, his gaze flicking to Callan every so often. Callan still wondered why he couldn’t hear Lonnie’s thoughts, though hewas more than grateful for it. It was soothing to be around him, and the mystery of not knowing his thoughts intrigued Callan. At night, they’d been watching more shows while Lonnie graded—healwayshad grading to do. His job was definitely not any kind of nine to five. But he seemed to enjoy it, often smiling over something he was reading. Though there were frowns, too, and often frustration in the form of sighs and his shaking head. Occasionally, he murmured about students needing grammar classes.

But the quiet evenings together were just so…tranquil. Callan could relax around the human. Be himself. And Lonnie never seemed to mind Callan’s grunting responses to his intermittent chattery periods. He was polite about them, too, always pausing the shows that Callan had quickly become addicted to. He could see why Lonnie liked his anime. They portrayed so much emotion and inner feelings, and the music was wonderful. The fight scenes were right up Callan’s alley. So was a lot of the mythology. He’d be watching these shows long after his job with Lonnie was over.

That thought depressed him. After a mere week, he’d grown attached, something that had never happened on the job before. He wanted all the quiet nights with Lonnie.

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