“Holy shit! No. No, it was … it was totally consensual. No coercion or anything.”
His face was like stone. “I don’t get it. I don’t get why you would have sex with a creature like that. I figured you for someone who had more self-respect than that.”
I felt as if my breath had been robbed from me, and for several gaping seconds I could only struggle to regain the power of speech. “Self-respect?” I finally managed. “Who the fuck are you to be all self-righteous about this?”
“I just can’t believe you fucked that thing!” he retorted, voice rough with what I could only assume was utter disdain. “Why … why would you do that?”
I stared at him, trying to control my anger and hurt and my ripping disappointment in him. I’d never imagined that he could be this judgmental, and I had the sick suspicion he was seeing me as someone who was so weak and needy that I had to find comfort from a demon lover.
“Because I’m lonely!” I exploded, standing and nearly tipping the stool over. “Because I’ve only ever had two boyfriends, and they were shitty in bed, and they never stayed very long anyway. I had this incredibly gorgeous guy wanting to kiss me and make love to me, and I wanted it. I don’t have many friends. I mean, shit! I know he was just trying to get something from me, but y’know what? I wanted something from him too. I wanted to be touched and wanted and to feel—for a few fucking minutes—that I was sexy and desirable. And to feel—for a few fucking minutes—a way I knew I’d never felt before and would probably never feel again!” I stood there, chest heaving. Shit. Shit. How could I have said all that? How could he judge me like that?
His face twisted in what looked like a snarl, and his knuckles whitened as he balled his hands into fists. He abruptly stood and came around the end of the counter in two quick strides. I backed away in shock as he reached for me, my heart slamming in my chest as I came up against the sink. Was he really so angry that he would strike out at me? I couldn’t believe it, but why else come at me like that?
But he froze as I retreated, his eyes haunted and his hand still extended toward me. I looked at him, wide-eyed, waiting to see what he was going to do.
We stood in that tableau for a breath, then he dropped his hand, suddenly looking tired and defeated. He was silent for several heartbeats, eyes on me as if desperately searching for something. Then he looked away. “I … should probably go now,” he said, voice thick.
I swallowed, then gave a jerky nod. “Yes, I think that’s a good idea.” I managed to keep my voice from shaking, at least.
He turned to go but paused at the kitchen door, hand on the door frame, not looking back at me. “Thank you for helping out at the crime scene,” he said, voice so low and rough I could barely hear him.
He continued out, and I heard the front door open and close. “You’re welcome,” I whispered. Then I gave in and sat on the floor of the kitchen and cried my heart out.
THE CHALK CRUMBLED IN MY HAND AS I COMPLETED the last sigil in the circle on the basement floor. I sat back on my heels and brushed the fragments away, careful not to mar the diagram itself. I felt unspeakably calm. Or unspeakably empty. Either way, my hands didn’t shake and my focus was sharper than it had been since I’d come back from the dead.
After Ryan left, I allowed myself to wallow in sobbing misery for more than an hour, then drove home, feeling as if something had let go. I don’t need his approval, I’d thought with a combination of anger and misery. Besides, who the fuck was he to preach to me about the dangers of dealing with demons?
I crawled into bed and slept like the dead for nearly four hours, then woke just as the sun was dipping below the tops of the trees that surrounded my house. I had more than enough time to prepare for a summoning. It wasn’t a full moon, but that was the whole point.
I went through the protocols of the summoning carefully, but with a fluid ease that was gratifying. And when the time came to pull potency from the storage diagram, the power flowed into my control with a sweet and smooth surge, easily channeled into the ritual.
“Rhyzkahl.” His name filled the room as I held the portal open. I’d shaped this summoning as more of a call than a command—something that would normally have been wildly dangerous, but I was confident that Rhyzkahl would not seek retribution. Not when he’d already made it clear that he wanted further access to this sphere.