Page 20 of The Demon Prince's Accidental Mate
Sprinkling some more flour on the board, I ground my fingers into it with precision and care while my mind wandered. I’d done it for years so that, despite the sweat, despite the rising heat, despite the rattling of the overhead fan, despite all the noises, smells, and discomfort, I could do it all on autopilot.
Which gave me time to think things over. One thing, in particular. One tall, handsome, ripped thing. With eyes the color of cognac, capable of burning on the way down before offering soothing warmth. A smile that promised all things wicked and delightful if one stayed on its good side or a quick death if you strayed too far from what was deemed acceptable.
I didn’t like that he excited me. The last thing I needed in my life was a bad boy. Someone full of danger and emotions they couldn’t process or talk about. I needed communication. Maturity. Love. That was what I needed in a man.
My eyes rolled.
“Don’t need a man at all,” I told myself. “Not unless he knows his way around a mixer and an oven. And doesn’t mind that I can’t afford even minimum wage.”
Not that any such man existed. Even if they did, trying to imagine Belial in a white hat and apron was impossible. My stomach bounced with stifled laughter at the image of the giant. A rolling pin would be like a toothpick to him. He’d probably break it the first time he tried to use it. I paused to laugh again before splitting the dough into the trays for buns.
After the boring white bread, the regular kaiser buns were my bestsellers. Not fancy. Not exciting. But a staple of my life.
Belial was anything but a boring staple. He was the excitement. The flirtation with danger. I knew because I could feel him in my mind. Or, I’d been able to. When he was close, I’d known his emotions as they came and went, rising and falling, changing and morphing. Reading him had been like looking into a book and knowing every word on the page before the ink it was written in had dried.
Then he’d left. Just left out the back door, disappearing into the night. I’d stared out the window, watching as the shadows swallowed him up until he was gone. My mind was still linked to his, but his presence grew fainter and fainter. At that point, the only thing I knew was that he still lived. He was there, on the other end, but the connection was strained and weak.
It wasn’t like it was at first. The vibrancy of our connection had been so intense initially that I’d thought my mind was ripping in half because I couldn’t handle our joining as a mere human. Yet that had faded. We homo sapiens were quite adaptable to change if we exposed ourselves to it. It was that change that made us the apex species of the planet.
Or so I’d thought.
I guess Fae technically aren’t of this planet. Probably. So does it still count?
I wasn’t sure, and that sort of thought was well beyond my current knowledge.
The oven door opened with an extra tug. Oven two had been sticky for ages. I wasn’t sure how to fix it. That wasn’t my thing. It still baked just fine, so I wasn’t about to get rid of it. Even if I could replace it.
Enough. Pushing aside the despair, I focused on the rising sense of determination. I had to harness it. Use it. That was how I would get through the day. Just like I had in days past.
That upswell continued as I tapped into it, reaching back, wrapping itself around me. I worked with renewed energy. Enthusiasm for what I did returning to me. A smile even graced my lips as I started work on some basic cookie dough, various toppings set aside.
Everyone loved a sweet.
A sense of awe came over me suddenly. Strong and unexpected.
I frowned. There was nothing awe-inspiring about baking cookies. Especially now that the entire back room was beginning to feel like a sauna with oven three getting warm. What could possibly have brought forth that emoti—
Jerking upright, I whipped my head around, looking wildly at the doors and the window. Through the window, I could see a shadow against shadow. It was early in the morning, so the sun had not yet risen. The only light was from the outdoor light, which was faded and old.
But I knew who it was.
Belial.
He pulled open the back door and stepped inside. An immense feeling ofcomfortwashed over me just as the heat of the bakery wrapped him in its heated embrace.
“Ahhh.” The sigh was deep and heartfelt.
I gaped at him. “Youlikethis temperature? How? Why?”
The big man gave me one of those grins that burned before it settled in a pool of fresh warmth that trickled between my legs.
“There’s something to be said about heat. It’s cleansing. Purifying. Wonderful.”
“Right,” I said. “You’re nuts.”
“Maybe,” he agreed, not willing to argue.
“Where did you go? What the hell do you want?” I asked tiredly, not in the mood to play games. I had work that I needed to be doing. “Did you come back to undo what you did to me?”
