Rook's Demon Page 6

  “Oh, I’ve seen this,” Rook said as he appeared from the bedroom, dressed only in a fluffy towel. “Pretty interesting.”

  Damon gestured to the coffee on the worktop. “Yeah, it’s pretty fascinating. Do you think it’s possible?”

  “Possible, yeah. Likely, no.”

  “No?” He seemed open to it, at least. “You don’t think it’s likely?”

  “Well, like I said, it’s possible. I mean, I’ve seen things that make no sense, and there are weird deaths and things on the news from time to time.” Rook dumped two sugars into his coffee then joined Damon on the sofa. “But it would be damn hard to keep a secret that big for so long.”

  “I guess so.” Damon shrugged. “Maybe they can hide their forms or something.”

  Rook smirked. “Think a lot about it, do you?”

  “From time to time. It interests me.”

  “The unexplained is pretty cool. We get all sorts in the shop, after all. Tattoos seem to attract as many weirdos as they do norms.”

  “Speaking of tattoos,” Damon said, quickly switching the topic. Weirdos? “When can you fit me in?”

  “I managed it three times last night.”

  “Very funny. I meant my tatt.”

  Rook grinned. “I’ve no appointments this afternoon, unless Carly’s booked something and not told me. Can I use your phone?”

  “Sure. Phone.” A beep sounded from a hidden speaker, making Rook jump. “Call Rook, shop.” He grinned at a wide-eyed Rook. “Fancy, huh?”

  “Very.” The phone rang for a few minutes, then Carly answered. “Carly, it’s Rook. Do I have any appointments after two?”

  “Boss! There you are. I was wondering where you’d got to when you weren’t in at normal time. Ass too full of cock?”

  “First of all, shut up. Second, you’re on speaker. Say hi to Damon.”

  There was a faint murmur as it sounded like she cursed with her hand over the mouthpiece. “Hello, Damon.”

  “Hi, cutie. You were right, he had a full ass.”

  She laughed. “Thought so.” There was a rustling as she opened the appointment book. “Uhhh...Nope. Nothing after one, actually. Want me to reserve a slot?”

  “Yeah,” Rook said. “Nothing after one. Damon wants his done.”

  “Ohh, and he gets special treatment, eh?”

  “Damn right he does.” Rook winked at Damon. “See you soon, Carls.”

  * * * *

  The morning was a pleasant one, so Damon suggested they park Rook’s car at his place, then walk back to the tattoo shop. Rook was all for it, so they set off and got to the shop slightly out of breath just before Rook’s first appointment arrived. As he set up his chair and tattoo guns, Carly cornered Damon behind the cash register.

  “So, what are you intentions toward my boss?”

  Damon smiled. “You two have to be related.”

  “We get that a lot, but no. And don’t change the subject or I’ll have Rook tattoo ‘I love pussy’ on your forehead and I’ll dump you in the middle of an over-fifties singles dance.”

  “Similar sense of humor, too, I see.” He raised a hand as she turned to shout to Rook. “Okay, fine. My intention is to spend as much time with him as I can, and see where it goes from there.”

  She crossed her arms. “Sounds good, but how do I know you’re serious? You have a hell of a reputation as a player, you know.”

  He couldn’t argue with that, no matter how much he’d like to. Lately he’d surrounded himself with cheap, tawdry affairs in bathrooms, offices, basically anywhere he could, with anyone he could. Until meeting Rook, he hadn’t realized how draining it had become.

  “I doubt I can persuade you with words,” he said. “In the short time I’ve been with Rook, I’ve found myself happier than I’ve been in years. It’s still early days, yet, but I want that to continue. He’s a great guy, and I’d love to spend a lot more time with him.”

  Carly was silent for a moment, her stare level, until she finally nodded. “Good enough for now. If you hurt him, though, I’ll hunt you down, and I’ll do the tattoo. And I suck at tattoos.”

  Damon laughed. “Threat accepted.”

  The pair chatted while Rook worked, and Damon found himself enjoying his time with Carly almost as much as his time with Rook. He could see why he’d hired her and why they got along so well. It was quite clear that a relationship with one meant a relationship with both. He could live with that.

  Rook finished his work shortly after, and as he finished cleaning up the client, he waved Damon over.

  “Ready to go?”

  “Don’t you need to rest up a little first?” Carly asked, interrupting Damon’s reply. “Your back?”

  Rook shook his head. “I’m doing great these last few days. I don’t know why, but I’ve barely had any pain. Pretty sure I could limbo.”

  “Well, take it easy, okay, boss?”

  Rook smiled and nodded. “Yes, Mom.”

  Carly rolled her eyes and wandered back to the desk to take the client’s money, leaving Rook with Damon, who unbuttoned his shirt and hung it on a nearby hook.

  “So, left shoulder blade.”

  “Sure thing,” Rook said, as he pulled a copy of the design from a folder. “I’ll get this stenciled and we’ll begin.”

  Damon climbed onto the seat backward and adjusted the tilt to suit, then leaned forward, using the back support as a chest support. Footsteps behind heralded the arrival of Carly.

  “Wow, what the hell happened to you?”

  “It’s nothing.” Damon shrugged. “They’re old.”

  “They still happened, though.” She ran a finger along one. “Are they deep?”

  “Some are.”

  Rook saved him a conversation by reappearing with the stencil. “Hands off my man, Carls. He’s not into what you’re packing.”

  My man. Damon smiled to himself. He liked the sound of that. Hopefully, Rook would still feel the same once he found out he was dating a demon capable of leveling a house with his forehead.

  The warm paper of the stencil was pressed against his shoulder blade, and a camera shutter clicked. Rook walked around the front with a digital camera and showed Damon the image on the screen.

  “Weird, your skin kinda glows on this shot...” Rook shook his head. “Damn camera. Anyway, how’s the placement?”

  “That’s great.” He reached out and ran a finger down the front of Rook’s jeans. His crotch was mere inches away. “This is a pretty good placement, too.”

  “Just pretend I’m not here,” Carly chimed in from behind. “I’ll just be in the corner. With a vibrator.”

  Rook smirked and bent to adjust his chair, then slid it into position near Damon’s shoulder. “Now, this will pinch. This area shouldn’t be too bad, but if you need me to stop, just say.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I have a high pain threshold.”

  “That’s what all the newbies say.”

  Damon didn’t reply, instead letting Rook work. In actual fact he’d lost count of the number of tattoos he’d had over the centuries, starting when they were applied with a soot-stained splinter of wood, all the way up to modern guns as recently as ten years ago. The problem was that they didn’t last. His healing ability treated them like a foreign body, and eventually destroyed the pigments. Modern inks took longer—up to five years in some cases—but it was inevitable.

  On the bright side, he could bring the healing about himself if he wished to remove all or part of a tattoo. That had come in handy after a few breakups.

  “So, it’s not too bad?” Rook said over the vibration of the needle.

  “Hmm?” Damon shook his head. “Didn’t even realize you’d started.”

  Rook snorted. “Suuure. Don’t make me slap it.”

  Carly came around to Damon’s side and sat on a spare chair. She leant forward to adjust her position and Damon nearly got a face full of cleavage.

  “If I was straight I could die happy,” he said.
<
br />   “Honey, if you were straight I’d already be trying to make you even happier.” She scooted the chair back a bit. “But you’re not, so you’ll have to settle for Rook.”

  “Rook’s hardly second prize,” he said with a laugh. “Good looking, funny, arty, owns his own business. That’s A-1 material right there.”

  “Shucks,” Rook said from behind. “You’re just saying that because I’ve got needles in your skin.”

  Damon laughed, but he’d meant every word, needle or no.

  * * * *

  Rook straightened up from his work and stretched, then leaned back in to inspect the tattoo.

  “This looks great.”

  It had taken close to four hours, but it had come out perfectly. He’d made a few minor tweaks to the other parts, but had left the runes intact as Damon had asked. Each rune seemed to have the same animated quality as those on the original drawing. Damon had been brilliant throughout, too. Not one grimace or complaint of pain. Rook hadn’t seen anything like it. He pulled a cloth and his water bottle to him and cleaned up the area, then patted it dry.

  “Okay, come look at it before I patch you up.”

  Damon stood and twisted his back from side to side, then padded over to the full-length mirror. Rook handed him a smaller mirror to hold, and with it Damon inspected the tattoo.

  “It’s perfect. I don’t know what else to say. I’m speechless.”

  There was a gleam in Damon’s eyes for a moment, but he blinked it away. Whatever those runes meant, it was something very personal to him.

  “Thank you, Rook.”

  Before Rook could warn him to be careful, Damon closed the distance between them and enveloped him in a crushing hug. He broke away and kissed Rook softly on the mouth, then moved back to the chair.

  “Bandage me up, doc.”

  Rook stood, dazed for a moment. The kiss still tingled on his lips. The more time he spent with this man, the less he wanted to spend away from him.

  “Rook?”

  He snapped out of it with a smile. “You got it.”

  He cut the bandage to size, then quickly taped it into place. “Now don’t go showing this to your friends for at least a few hours. Keep it clean, don’t get it too wet, and don’t scratch. And keep any clothes baggy. Okay?”

  “Yes, boss,” Damon said with a smirk. “I’ve seen it on TV, I know what to do.”

  “Good. I hate touching up tattoos.”

  “What about their owners?”

  “That’s a different matter entirely.” Rook licked his top lip. “Though not tonight. You’re healing.”

  Damon sighed dramatically. “Looks like I’m straight tonight, Carly.”

  Carly laughed. “I’ll get my maid outfit.”

  Rook walked with Damon to the door, then held out a hand as the man reached for his wallet. “No, it’s on me.”

  Damon shook his head. “C’mon, now. It took nearly half your working day to do it. Let me give you something for it.”

  “I wouldn’t hear of it. You can thank me with a night at my place tonight. No funny business, just a pizza and a movie. Deal?”

  Damon nodded. “But I’m paying for the pizza.”

  “Damn right you are.”

  He laughed and leaned in to kiss Rook on the cheek. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  Rook watched him go and was soon joined by Carly. She remained silent, which could be construed as either a good or bad thing. No immediate insults to hurl Damon’s way, but nothing positive either. After a minute Rook lost patience.

  “So, what did you think of him?”

  “If it were me, I’d marry him.”

  “And what about me?”

  “I couldn’t marry you, boss.”

  Rook rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

  She grinned. “Tonight’s the test. No sex whatsoever. If you pass this, you’re golden.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  Chapter Ten

  Tonight was the night. Damon held his own stare in the full-length mirror on his wardrobe door. He’d decided midway through dressing. Tonight, once they’d settled in with the pizza and action movie, he’d tell Rook about his true nature.

  “Or maybe I’ll panic and freeze up.” He placed his hands on the wardrobe and banged his head softly on the mirror. “No, I can do this. I’ve done it before.”

  That was, of course, the problem. He had done it before, multiple times in fact. And while some had ended well, more had resulted in the end of a relationship or even pitchforks and angry villagers. The latter was unlikely in this day and age, but an end to the relationship would be just as painful, if not more so.

  How could he explain? It got no easier over the years. A human could not begin to understand the life of a demon bastard, exiled from his home by a furious elder and an uncaring mother. Forced to spend centuries as a glorified shock trooper to claw back even a modicum of honor.

  In Rook’s entire life he wouldn’t experience a hundredth of what Damon had been forced to do in the space of one year. The scars from the thousands of poisoned sword cuts may have faded, but the memories remained. Clear as day.

  “I can’t not tell him, though,” he told his reflection. “And it gets harder the longer I leave it.”

  He rolled his neck until it cracked, the top strap of the bandage rubbing against him as he did. The tattoo was already completely healed, but the bandage would have to stay, at least until after the big reveal, anyway.

  The clock in the hall downstairs chimed the hour, and Damon realized he was late. He checked the bandage, threw on a casual shirt to go with his jeans, then created a portal that led to the woods nearby Rook’s place. He stepped out onto grass, dismissed the portal with a wave, and sprinted across the road toward the driveway containing Rook’s car. He knocked on the front door and waited.

  A light came on in the hallway, and footsteps headed downstairs. A moment later Rook was in the door, a smile on his face. He leaned out to kiss Damon softly on the lips.

  “Evening.”

  “Good evening,” Damon said with a smile. “Miss me?”

  “Maybe a little.” Rook craned past Damon. “Did you get the bus over?”

  Damon frowned. “The bus?”

  “You’re not in your car.”

  Damn it! “Oh, yeah. I got one halfway and walked the rest. Needed the exercise.”

  Rook smiled and waved Damon in. “I was just upstairs. There was some weird flash in the woods just before you got here. Looked exactly like that time your hall bulb blew.”

  “That is weird. Someone camping in there maybe? Threw their whisky on the fire or something.”

  “I guess. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Die Hard, The Crow, or Rush Hour?”

  Damon laughed. “It’s gotta be Die Hard. Though they’re all great.”

  “We’re unanimous. Die Hard it is.”

  He followed Rook into the lounge and settled onto the comfortable sofa while Rook ordered the pizza. Done, he put the DVD in and dropped a six-pack of beer onto the table then sat beside Damon.

  “Since you’re not driving, I thought we’d have a drink.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Damon shifted a little on the sofa. The bandage was bugging him, and he was dying to take it off. Not yet, though. Rook noticed the movement.

  “Tattoo itching?”

  Damon smiled. “Little bit.” He reached forward and grabbed a beer, twisting the cap off. “Cheers.”

  “Whoa! That was seriously impressive.”

  Damon frowned, the beer halfway to his lips. “What was?”

  “The beer cap. These aren’t twist offs.”

  “Oh, right.” He shrugged. “Strong hands.”

  Rook laughed. “Apparently so. I’ve tried that more than once, and all I end up with is a red-raw hand.”

  Damon merely smiled and swore silently.

  The evening continued happily, especially after the pizza arrived. They both tore into the ham, pepperoni, and
bacon pie, following it up with more than a few beers while they discussed the merits of Bruce Willis crawling through air ducts. More than once the pair shared a kiss or a light fondle, but Rook was unwilling to go further, saying that the tattoo may be damaged since it was only a few hours old. Damon went along with it, since he’d soon be revealing his nature, and then either way it wouldn’t matter.

  As the movie finished, Rook got up to take out the DVD and put in another. Damon shifted again as he did and knocked the table over. As he leaned down to pull it back into place, Rook collided with the other side of it, splashing beer from an open bottle down Damon’s front.

  He jumped up in surprise, knocking the table again as he attempted to brush the beer off the shirt.

  “Shit, sorry,” Rook said as he ran to the kitchen to grab a cloth. “I hope it won’t mess up the shirt.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Damon smiled. “It’s only a shirt.”

  “True, I guess. Head up and change into one of mine, and I’ll get that one cleaned for you.”

  “It’s no big deal, really.”

  Rook nodded. “True, but you now stink of beer.”

  Damon sniffed the air. “Ah. Be right back.”

  “I’ll pause the DVD.”

  Under Rook’s direction, Damon headed up the stairs and turned left into the bedroom to grab a shirt then back out and to the right, into the bathroom to clean up.

  The smell wasn’t that strong, but it was enough to annoy. He stripped out of his shirt and washed his chest and side where the liquid had spilled. As he stooped to pick up his discarded shirt, he noticed that the bandage had come off with it. With a sigh he stooped to grab it. Just as Rook came in through the door.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Uh, yeah. Bandage just came off.” Damon turned so that the healed tattoo was out of sight. “Be down in a minute.”

  “Can I see the tattoo? It’s rare that I get to see them this early in the healing. Maybe I can spot if you’re doing anything wrong.”

  Damon’s stomach lurched. He could say no and make Rook leave, and if he did it right he’d probably not ruin the night, but something told him to get it over with. Show him, see what he thought, and then reveal his nature, despite the chance it would scare Rook away. With a sigh, he turned his back to Rook.