Page 24 of Her Demon Mate

ELIA

Istomp past an ensemble of druggies as I make my way home, ignoring their calls. They wouldn’t be doing any such thing if they knew what I did to the last person who harassed me, but I have no energy to dish out more punishment, no matter how deserving.

Soon, I open the door to my apartment, stepping inside and shaking the rain off of me. It’s a small but quaint place, with a bedroom, a bathroom, and a kitchen and living room combined together. I light the fireplace in the living room, pouring myself a drink.

It’s not much, but it belongs to me. It’s a safe haven, and I am more than relieved to be home. I unstrap the sheath around my thigh, tossing aside the knife. I’m still pissed off that I never got to use it tonight.

With bruised hands, I bring the glass to my lips, sipping on a comforting drink.My first fight in ages, and with nothing to gain from it. How dare Azron and Vylco think they can handle my business for me?

The worst part is that I know I’m going to have to continue dealing with Tonnolun after this. Even if he never does touch me again, I’ll forever remember the wretched sensation of his hands slithering across my body.

They just couldn’t stay out of it, could they?

Relenting in my thoughts, I take a seat by my window, casting an eye on the dark red streets of Sarziroch. Much like my mind, this city is dark, a raging cesspool of violence.

“That bastard Zaphon is still out there somewhere. Who knows how many more humans he’s gotten killed?”

I realize at that moment that I’m not going to be able to focus on anything else, not while I know that damned xaphan is roaming the city where I reside. It’s because of him that my mother isn’t sitting across from me while we enjoy a cup of tea in each other’s company

It’s because of Zaphon that I turned out as fucked up and mentally scarred as I am. For that, I’m going to make sure he pays, and I decide not to give up, no matter how long it takes.

“I’ll have his blood on my hands, even if I die trying.”

I sigh in frustration, leaning my head back against the wall. All this time was spent trying to forge a new life for myself, letting go of my past, and piecing my broken spirit back together after it shattered to pieces.

“Maybe this life of violence was what I was made for… So then why does it feel so hard for me to throw myself back into the game?”

Deciding to rest on it, I retreat to the comfort of my bed, sinking into the sheets. My sleep, however, is far from perfect. I end up spending the night tossing and turning for hours on end.

* * *

It’s earlythe next morning as I make my way to work. Despite getting barely any sleep, I’m somehow full of energy, my mind and body sharp. Perhaps it is because of last night’s revelation that my body is in survival mode.

I enter the bakery through the backdoor, here by myself as per usual at this time of morning. Tonnolun doesn’t show up until just after noon, and part of me even wonders if he’ll show his face.

With the place to myself, I at least do not have to deal with the stupidity of others. I get to work preparing and mixing the dough and assembling the pastries.

The time comes to open the shop an hour before noon. As expected, there is a long line out the door which keeps me busy. I’m good at anything I do even if I don’t have the heart for it, and that includes my job at the bakery.

I get through the line at a quick pace, eager to rid myself of the morning rush. After taking a customer’s order, I turn away from the counter to wash my hands, asking him to wait.

“Next!” I call out as I dry myself off.Got to keep this queue moving.

“Good morning, Elia,” greets a familiar voice.

Immediately recognizing it, my knees quiver beneath me as I turn to see Azron standing there at the front of the line. He is a giant amongst them, taking up three times more space than anyone else.

“I wanted to –”

He raises his arm and hits it off a tray of demonic croissants, which get their name from the way their ends curl up like horns, much like the ones atop Azron’s head. I catch the tray before any of the pastries fall off and put them behind me, hiding a smirk. I glance at the clock, seeing it’s just turned to noon.

Remembering how he interfered in my business last time, I reel around with a frown on my face, aiming it right at Azron. I don’t have the nerve to shout at him, whether it’s because there are other customers here or because he looks silly.

“I hardly guess you’re here for any pastries, so what do you want?” I ask.

Azron keeps clear of the other trays nearby, drawing himself up as if about to say a speech that he had spent hours rehearsing.

“I wanted to apologize for intervening in your business last night, so, uh… Sorry.”

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