Page 54 of Obsession

“His majesty’s cake.”

“On your knees when you say that,” he teases, appearing beside me and sticking his finger in the leftover batter stuck to the sides of the bowl and giving his finger a lick.

“Out of my kitchen before you get yourself in trouble,” I say, looking pointedly to our kitchen witch.

He bows slightly, showing respect to the poppet. Damion disrespected our kitchen witch once while we were bound together and learned not to do it again.

“Go make yourself useful and do some puzzle training.”

“I thought I made myself more than useful back in your bedroom when I…” He finishes the rest of that sentence in my mind.

The oven timer dings—saved by the bell. “Out,” I say weakly, and he smiles.

I grab a toothpick and poke the cakes, checking for doneness. They look good to me as I pull them out of the oven and move them to the freezer to cool faster. I begin making the chocolate frosting while the cakes cool.

Damion takes a seat at the kitchen table, and Elvis hops up in his lap. “I’m glad to see Elvis will help you work the puzzle. He always uses the excuse he doesn’t have opposable thumbs when I ask him to help me,” I say as I add a little more powdered sugar to the bowl and turn the mixer back on.

“We’re both kings, and we respect each other’s sovereignty,” Damion quips. I playfully throw a spatula at him, but he simply hovers it midair and takes a lick. “Frosting’s good but needs just a little more sugar.”

“If you want me to give you just a little more sugar this weekend, you’ll hush.” I grab a spoon from the drawer and have a taste—he’s right. I add more sugar, smiling as I stir in extra vanilla for romance, channeling my intention in the bowl. Pulling my now-cool cakes from the freezer, I add a layer of frosting and then I use the back of a spoon to make swirl designs. For the final touch, I grab a bar of chocolate and the vegetable peeler and make pretty chocolate shavings and sprinkle them on top.

“Abracadabra. There you are, your majesties.” Too many kings in my queendom, if you ask me. I place the cake in a domed cake carrier and check that off my to-do list.

“You don’t get out of puzzle training just because you’re a sexy hostess,” Damion tells me. I’m wearing the frilly apron over one of his white T-shirts. A good thing, too, as the apron is spattered with chocolate frosting.

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what it means,” I inform him, but I take off the apron and have a seat next to him at the kitchen table.

He leans over, rubbing a smear of chocolate frosting off my chin and bringing his finger to my mouth. I suck the chocolate off his finger, our eyes never leaving each other’s. “See how good a different flavor tastes.”

“Be gone, demon,” I say dramatically, ignoring the tingling between my thighs.

Damion gives me a cocksure smile, vanishing. He’s going to meet his mother for a birthday lunch. I was not invited, and that does not hurt my feelings, not one little bit.

Chapter 23

I’m working the front of the shop as Aunt Callie meets with her new past life regression client who has an extreme blood phobia. I’m guessing the blood magic I worked on my bloodstone bracelet last night would make this poor woman pass out.

Texting Damion to pop in when he has some free time, I want to ask him whether he’s learned more about Delilah’s untimely death. I’ve been unable to discover anything about it online. I don’t immediately hear back from him which is no big deal. He’s probably stuck in demonic court. I was there one time, and one time was more than enough for me.

I stay fairly busy all day and finally close up shop. Changing out of my work clothes into a tank top and shorts, I text him.

Me: Everything alright? I didn’t hear from you last night or today.

Damion: I didn’t know you were my keeper.

What was that? Damion never snaps at me. We fuss and play fight—maybe the occasional disagreement—but we don’t get nasty with each other.

Me: Come over, I want to see you.

Damion: You’re so needy. I’m busy.

Ouch. Setting my phone down, I walk to the kitchen. Grandma’s at poker and Aunt Callie’s at yoga, so I’m on my own. I make a quick one-pot chicken and rice, but it doesn’t taste great. That’s no surprise. Food picks up on the emotions of the cook, and right now I’m out of sorts.

I get ready for bed and fret a little bit more. So Damion’s in a bad mood. He’s entitled. I should give him time to cool off, talk to him tomorrow. The problem is my possessed hands don’t get the message, and now I’m holding my phone, hitting call.

He answers with a grumpy, “What.”

“Is everything okay?”

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