Calladia was a fighter. This time she would fight not to cover up her pain, but to release it.
“Love does mean helping someone be the best version of themselves,” she said. “It means supporting and uplifting them. It means even when you argue, you do it from a place of compassion.” Her eyes pricked with tears. Rather than knuckle them away, she let them trickle down her cheeks. “That’s not what Sam did,” she continued, “and it isn’t what you’ve been doing either. Both of you want a Calladia who doesn’t exist.”
“You could—”
“I’m still talking,” Calladia said firmly. “I’m not going to meet that lobbyist’s son. In fact, I won’t be attending any more political events. I’m done trying to placate you. If you don’t love me as I am now, you don’t love me at all.”
Cynthia made a shocked sound. “That’s not fair. You have so much potential—”
“Stop!” Calladia was shouting now. “Loving my potential isn’t the same as loving me. I’m done letting you tear me down. I suggest you get therapy to address your anger and your impossible expectations, but I’m not going to wait for that. We’re done.”
“Done?” Cynthia sounded confused. “What do you mean, done?”
“I’m not going to see or talk to you anymore.” Calladia’s throat ached, but she forced the words out. It was time. It was past time. “I’m your daughter, not a pet project. And where you see a failure, I see someone fierce and bold. Someone worthy of being loved just as she is.”
Astaroth raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it. His eyes were glistening, too, and in them she saw something equally terrifying and amazing.
Possibility.
Her mother was screeching about how cruel and unreasonable she was being, but Calladia was done being the family punching bag. “Don’t contact me again unless it’s an apology and a sincere promise to do better.”
She hung up.
The phone vibrated immediately. Calladia put it on silent and tossed it aside.
She took a deep breath of pine-and cedar-scented air. “Well,” she said into the silence. “That’s done.”
Astaroth’s arms wrapped around her, and she squawked as he hauled her into a tight hug. He bent back, lifting her toes off the floor before setting her down again. “You,” he said, “are magnificent.”
She sniffled and buried her face in his hair, letting the soft strands soak up her tears. Her heart hurt, but she felt light enough to float away. A burden had been lifted from her shoulders, one she’d been carrying for so long, she hadn’t realized how heavy it had gotten. “I can’t believe I did that.”
“I can. You’re a warrior, Calladia.”
“I am, aren’t I?” Not a messy brawler or a reckless disaster or any of the other negative things she and others had said about her. A warrior.
An unbearably tender emotion welled in her breast. Calladia cupped Astaroth’s cheeks and kissed him.
He tasted like fire and sin and freedom. Like deliverance.
Like hope.
His lips parted under hers, and he kissed her back with matching passion.
In trying to protect her heart, Calladia had instead created a prison for her true self. She let the final walls around her heart fall away and gave herself over wholly to this moment and this man, who, despite his flaws and his troubled history, had helped her find the key to her shackles.
Love wasn’t trying to force someone to be who you thought they should be. It was loving them as they were while supporting them on their journey toward becoming their best self. Astaroth liked her temper and attitude. Calladia liked his snark and pretentiousness. And just as he’d supported her in taking this crucial step of cutting off her abusive mother, she would support him as he fought to bring change to the demon plane.
Maybe regaining his memories would turn him into a dick again. But if that happened, Calladia would be there to kick his ass and encourage his better impulses. It might end badly, but she was done being afraid.
She stripped his shirt off urgently, sending buttons flying. In response, he tugged her shirt and sports bra over her head. Then they were pressed chest to chest, hearts pounding in a fervent duet.
Calladia backed Astaroth toward the bed and shoved him down. He grinned as he scooted up the mattress, making room for her. He started undoing his slacks, but Calladia shook her head as she planted a knee on the bed and crawled between his legs. “Mine,” she said, batting his hand aside.
“Yes, goddess,” he said, reclining on his elbows. The muscles in his abdomen tightened with the curve of his spine, and Calladia’s mouth watered. She ripped his pants off, then his underwear, sending them flying. Then she lowered her head to his crotch and wrapped her lips around his dick.
Astaroth shouted, and his hips bucked up, sending his shaft deeper. Calladia opened wider, letting saliva pool in her mouth as she bobbed up and down. She used her fist on the base of his erection, pumping in time with her movements.
“Not yet,” he gasped after a minute, pushing lightly on her forehead. “You’re going to make me come.”
She popped off his dick with a wicked grin, then licked her lips. “Already? You’d think your endurance would be higher after all these years.”
“When it comes to you, all bets are off.” He sat upright, abs rippling deliciously, then tossed her to her back and went for the waistband of her leggings. She was nude in seconds, and then he was returning the favor, mouth glued between her legs as he ate her out ravenously. He plunged two fingers into her and crooked them, dragging them over her inner wall in a sensuous rhythm that had her cursing and arching her back.
She gripped his horns, tugging him harder against her, and Astaroth moaned before redoubling his efforts. A third finger worked inside her, stretching her wide. Then he focused on her clit, sucking hard. The sensations were intense, just this side of uncomfortable—exactly how she liked it.
She came quickly, hips jerking as a jolt of pure ecstasy rocketed through her. When she was done twitching and gasping, Astaroth lifted his head and pulled his fingers out. He sucked them clean, then smirked at her. “Whose endurance is lacking now?”
She cackled, high off the feelings and the moment and him. “Get up here, you menace.”
He crawled up her body, settling his hips between her spread thighs. Then he was kissing her, hard and hungry. “I’ll never get enough of you,” he said against her lips. “The sun could die and the stars could fall and the earth could rip itself apart, and none of that would matter, so long as you were in my arms.”
It was a beautiful and intense sentiment. As Calladia did when faced with an overwhelming influx of feeling, she cracked a joke. “Pussy good enough to overshadow the apocalypse? High praise, indeed.”
“Not just that,” he said, cupping her chin in one hand. “All of you. Your mind and heart and ferocious spirit. I’ve never met anyone like you.”