“Have you been trying to?” Calladia asked, genuinely curious.
“No, but it tends to happen anyway.” He walked to the bed and stared at it with hands on his hips. “So we only have one bed. That shouldn’t be a problem. The couch is big enough for you to curl up on, and we can add pillows.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Calladia said distractedly. Her gaze had slipped to his butt, which filled out those ridiculous pants nicely. Then she replayed what he’d said and felt a flare of outrage. “Wait, why am I curling up on the couch and not you?”
“You’re smaller, so you’ll be more comfortable.”
Calladia guffawed. She pushed to her feet and went toe-to-toe with Astaroth. He didn’t retreat, despite her standing uncomfortably close, but did he ever? “I’m not that much smaller than you,” she said.
His eyes dipped to her mouth. “Small enough.” The rough edge to his voice sent a shiver down her spine.
Calladia licked her lips, feeling the electric thrill of a challenge. “What about chivalry?”
“Fuck chivalry,” Astaroth rebutted instantly. “I have amnesia.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Calladia said with exaggerated concern. “I didn’t realize you’d forgotten how to sleep on a couch.”
“Well, I have.” Astaroth sighed heavily. “It’s a tragedy, but alas, there’s nothing to be done for it. I shall make do with the bed.”
Calladia tried not to laugh. “A gentleman would offer the bed to the lady.”
“Do you see a gentleman here? Or a lady, for that matter?”
Calladia gasped. “Rude!”
Astaroth slid his hands into his pockets and shrugged one shoulder, eyes gleaming with mischief. “If you want me to treat you like a lady, I will, but I’ve got to warn you, proper ladies don’t get in fistfights.”
Good point. “Then I’ll fistfight you for the bed,” she said, switching tactics.
“You’d try to take advantage of a wounded man?” he asked, clapping a hand to his chest.
She was torn between laughing and rolling her eyes at the dramatics. “I don’t know why you chose to be a bargainer when you clearly had a bright future on the stage.”
“What makes you think I don’t have time for both? I could have just finished a starring run on the West End for all we know.” His grin was sharp and wicked. He was enjoying this banter.
Calladia was, too. Her breath came fast, and excitement buzzed under her skin. Sparring with the demon held the same out-of-control thrill as dancing at the edge of a cliff or standing outside in a thunderstorm, and Calladia was enough of an adrenaline junkie to crave more. She’d always been drawn to danger.
Tension thrummed between them like a plucked string. What would happen if she seized that thread and made something out of it, the way she wove magic from twine?
The cliff edge—and madness—beckoned.
Calladia dropped her gaze to the demon’s lips and leaned in.
A shrill, jaunty melody started blaring from Calladia’s backpack. She jumped, heart jolting into overdrive. “Guess I left my ringer on,” she said with an awkward laugh, not sure whether she should curse or thank the phone for interrupting her ill-considered impulse.
Astaroth also looked startled. “What is that?” He listened for a moment, then started humming along. “Taylor Swift?”
Calladia hurried to her backpack and dug through it until she found her cell phone. The screen showed an incoming call from Cynthia Cunnington.
Calladia’s stomach soured, and the playful energy drained out of her. She hesitated with her thumb over the screen, then rejected the call.
Silence fell over the room.
Calladia didn’t look up right away, nervous about what she might see on Astaroth’s face. Now that the phone had jolted her back to reality, she couldn’t fathom what she’d been thinking.
Had she really almost kissed the demon? Again?
A mixture of arousal and guilt heated her skin and made her stomach clench. An almost-kiss was close to an almost-headbutt, right? She’d just gotten her wires crossed.
Sure, an inner voice mocked. Tell yourself that if it makes you feel better.
“Who was that?” Astaroth asked.
The phone buzzed with a text message.
Cynthia Cunnington: Rude not to answer the phone. Diantha says there’s a rumor you left town to join the circus. I told her you’re on a mindfulness retreat. Circus not good for optics. Be back for dinner tomorrow. Cocktail attire. Donors for reelection will be there.
A second text came swiftly after.
Cynthia Cunnington: Don’t disappoint me again.
Calladia silenced the phone and shoved it in her bag. “Just my mother,” she said. Her mother, the mayor of Glimmer Falls, scion of the community, whose expectations for Calladia were so high not even King Kong could climb them. How was she already thinking about reelection?
The excitement had been sucked out of Calladia so quickly, she felt dizzy and exhausted. She stood and stretched. “I need a bath.”
She grabbed her backpack and brushed past Astaroth, hoping he wouldn’t follow. She needed a good, long soak to wash off the dust of the road and regain her composure.
Behind the folding screen, Calladia pulled toiletries and pajamas out of the backpack. The blue onesie covered with a rubber duck pattern had been a gift from Themmie, and since it was warm but too ridiculous to wear in normal life, Calladia had put it in her camping supplies. The previous night she’d fallen asleep in her clothes, but it would be nice to wear something clean and comfortable after her bath.
Astaroth would probably give her shit for it, but whatever. She could put him in his place even in baby pajamas with a butt flap.
Calladia stripped and undid her braid, wincing as her fingers met tangles. She did a set of push-ups, crunches, squats, and lunges before rinsing the sweat off in a quick shower. She missed her morning workout routine at the gym. Her brain was restless even at the best of times, and tiring herself out first thing in the morning was the best way to maintain an even keel the rest of the day. Not that her version of an even keel was particularly balanced, but at least the exercise took the edge off her temper and anxieties.
Once the top layer of dirt was washed off, Calladia plugged the tub and let it fill. She dipped her feet in, hissing at the hot sting. Her feet and ankles turned cherry red, and she whimpered when she plunked the rest of her body down in the water. Pain was fleeting though, and besides, she deserved it after nearly hooking up with the demon who had tried to hurt her best friend, so she sat and endured the burn, waiting for her skin to acclimate.
“Everything all right?” Astaroth asked.
“Stop lurking,” she called back.
“Where am I supposed to go? We’re practically in the stratosphere.”