Rook's Demon Page 7

  “It looks...” Rook paused and brushed his fingers over the tattoo. “That’s not right. How did it heal so fast?”

  “I, uh—”

  “That’s…that’s not possible.” Rook prodded the tattoo. “Any pain?”

  “No.” Damon turned back to face the frowning Rook. “Look, I need to tell you something. I’d prefer it if you sat down.”

  Rook nodded and led Damon into the bedroom then sat on the edge of the bed. Damon stayed standing, near to Rook and to the side, so as not to block the doorway. He needed to appear as nonthreatening as possible.

  “What’s going on, Damon?” Rook asked. “There’s no way you can heal a tattoo completely in a few hours.”

  Damon chewed his lip. How the hell to start? He’d done it dozens of times, but each time was different, and for some reason this one felt ten times harder.

  “The tattoo healed up fast because I heal up fast. I’m...different from most people.”

  Rook frowned. “In what way?”

  “I’m an incubus. A demon.”

  It was out. He’d said the words, and now all he could do was attempt to control the situation and hope Rook didn’t freak out. The man stayed sitting on the bed, his expression shifting before shock and confusion.

  “I...” He shook his head. “A demon? You mean like in that documentary we watched?”

  “A different race, but yes.” Damon crossed his arms then uncrossed them again. Nonthreatening! “You know, most people start by not believing me.”

  Rook almost smirked then shook his head again, as if trying to clear his thoughts. “You’re clearly not lying to me, as much as I’d prefer it.” He sighed. “This explains the bottle top, too, I guess.”

  “Yeah. I’m stronger than huma—than most people. I’m stronger, faster, and I heal quick.”

  “Incubus. Those are the sex demons.” Rook’s eyebrows raised. “The ones who steal sexual energy. I remember the fairytales.”

  “That’s a half truth. We only take what is willingly given, and it doesn’t hurt nor harm those who we take it from. It can even be beneficial. You need food to live. We need energy.”

  Rook stood and began to pace the room in silence. His left fist opened and clenched, and for the longest time Damon thought he was going to attack him. His heart tore at the thought. This man was important to him, and to have him do anyth—

  “You need to leave.” Rook pointed to the door. “I–I need to think, and you need to leave. Now, please.”

  Damon nodded once and turned to leave. “If you want to talk, call me. I can be here literally in seconds.”

  Rook didn’t reply.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rook arrived at work the next morning with a sore head and a tired brain.

  He’d been up the whole night thinking and only stopped in the shop long enough to grab Carly and put up the Closed for Emergency sign. She questioned him at first, but once she’d realized it was serious, she quieted and let Rook drive.

  He didn’t know where he was going exactly. His first thought had been to head to the coffee shop, but that place reminded him of Damon. A demon? Up until yesterday he’d thought they were myth, an implausible idea. To find out he’d been sleeping with one, one who was likely syphoning off his energy, was...well, it was something. He couldn’t decide how he felt about it.

  Eventually, he pulled into a drive-through and bought a couple of coffees, then parked the car in a sunny spot a few miles out of town. As he switched off the engine he turned to Carly.

  “I need your advice.”

  “Well, gee, really?” Carly rolled her eyes. “Kinda figured that out during the twenty-minute drive.”

  “Please, Carls.”

  “What is it?” She squeezed his knee. “Damon?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s he done?” She straightened in her seat. “Do I need to go cut his cock off?”

  It’d probably grow back. He smiled weakly. “No. He told me something about himself last night. Something I’m not going to tell you about, but it was big enough to make me question my relationship with him.”

  “Okay...” She flipped the top from her coffee and took a gulp. “On a scale from ‘I dye my hair’ to ‘I kill old people in my spare time,’ where is this revelation?”

  “Near the old people end.” He held up a hand as her eyes widened. “It’s nothing criminal, and he hasn’t been leading me on, really. But like I said, I’m worried.”

  “Well, why are you worried?”

  “Because he didn’t tell me earlier, for one thing.”

  “Would it have affected things?”

  Rook nodded, his gaze off in the distance. “Yeah. Probably wouldn’t have had a second date.”

  “Maybe that’s what he was worried about. If it’s something big like you say, he’s had to tell others before, and he’d probably suffered a lot of rejection for it. Maybe he wanted you to get to know him first.”

  That made a lot of sense. Having spent time with Damon certainly softened the blow. If he’d found out after the first meet, he would have steered clear. That didn’t excuse it, though. It’s not like the man—demon—was confessing to something minor.

  “What’s the second reason?”

  Rook turned back to Carly. “It scares me.”

  She squeezed his knee again. “In that case, you need to ask yourself a question. Is it Damon that scares you or the revelation itself?”

  “Why does that matter?”

  “Think about it. If I dated two guys, and both said they were members of the NRA. One keeps his gun in his jeans all day and uses it to turn out lights, but the other keeps his guns in a locked safe apart from when he takes them to a firing range, I’m gonna form very different opinions on them.”

  Rook smirked. “Past experience?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. You get my point, though?”

  He nodded. “I do. And he definitely seems to fall into the ‘locked safe’ category, as far as I’ve seen.”

  Carly smiled. “Then give him the benefit of the doubt, boss. We’re more than a sum of our parts.”

  Rook sighed. She was right, of course. Hell, he’d known the damn answer before he’d even kicked Damon out of the house last night but was afraid to take the risk. Damon wasn’t like other boyfriends, even ignoring the demon thing. He was special.

  Rook leaned over and kissed Carly on the forehead. “When did you get to be so smart?”

  “I watch a lot of Oprah.”

  * * * *

  After dropping Carly off at her home and assuring her he didn’t need her help, Rook drove back to his house and headed to the phone. Damon picked up on the second ring.

  “Rook? I didn’t know if I’d ever hear from you again.”

  “We need to talk. I have a lot of questions.”

  “I’m not surprised. It’s a lot to take in.”

  Rook paced to his kitchen and back. His palms were soaked with sweat. “When can you get here?”

  “Almost immediately, if you don’t mind a light show.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Brace yourself.”

  Rook hung up the phone and turned to face the room just as a flash of light flared in the center. A swirling black vortex appeared, no taller than a man, and a few feet wide. Out of the middle stepped Damon, wearing his work suit. As soon as he was through, he flicked his wrist and the portal disappeared with a second flash, leaving the pair alone.

  Rook could only gape for several seconds. “I, uh, I guess that explains the flash in the woods last night.”

  Damon nodded. “And the blown bulb in my hallway. I’d forgotten the wine.”

  Rook gestured to the sofa. “Please sit down.”

  “Of course.” Damon sat, his posture rigid, his legs crossed. He was as nervous as Rook, it seemed. “What do you want to know?”

  “Well, I was going to start with asking you to prove you weren’t joking. Instead, we’ll skip to the next question. How old are y
ou?”

  “You sure you want to know?” Damon smiled nervously.

  “I do.”

  “I’m seven hundred and forty-four years old.”

  Rook’s jaw dropped for the second time in as many minutes. “Y—what?”

  “I was born in the late thirteenth century, by your calendar, in a dimension that attaches to this one through a series of underground portals. My mother was a succubus, and my father a demon of unknown heritage. They are both dead now.”

  Rook couldn’t take it in. He dropped into the armchair to the side of the sofa and ran a sweaty hand through his hair. Damon had been alive during the Crusades. His external appearance was that of a thirty-year-old man, and yet he’d seen things history books could only guess at.

  “Is this how you really look?”

  Damon paused then nodded. “My eyes are different, but other than that the differences are internal. We can change our appearance to suit our needs, but I only do that when I’ve been in an area for a while and need to change my identity.”

  Rook nodded. “I suppose a thirty-year-old-man disguise only works for a decade or so.”

  “This is my true appearance, though. I have gone with other looks, but when I move to a new area, I move to my true appearance again. I don’t like subterfuge.”

  “Other than the eyes.”

  Damon nodded. “My eyes are actually solid black. It comes from being born in near darkness, I’m told.”

  “So what can you do, other than the healing and the stealing energy?”

  The man looked physically wounded by the last part, and Rook already regretted it. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Damon smiled.

  “It’s okay.” He relaxed a little in the chair. “I’m stronger, faster, and my senses are all heightened. As you saw, I can create portals, and I can also heal others to a lesser degree.”

  “Heal others? My back.”

  It made sense, now. Rook had always felt his best directly after sex with Damon. He’d assumed it was just stress relief.

  Damon smiled. “When I absorb sexual energy, I exude my own energy which the other person then absorbs. It heals for a short time and can give a euphoric sensation, I’m told.”

  “I don’t know about euphoric. I was having orgasms at the same time, and it’s hard to differentiate.”

  “Is there anything else you need to know?”

  Rook held out a finger. “One thing. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Damon sighed and dropped his head. “I was going to. I promise you that. Last night, in fact. You spotted the tattoo, though, and I decided I couldn’t hide it anymore.” He looked up, catching Rook’s gaze. “I wanted to tell you earlier, but it’s so damn hard. Over the years...centuries...I’ve had many lovers, and more than half fled once I told them about my true nature. I didn’t want that to happen to you.”

  It made sense. Like Carly said, if he’d found out earlier, he almost definitely would have run. But now he wasn’t so sure.

  “One bonus question.” He stood and paced to stretch his legs.

  Damon look worried. “Go on.”

  “You picked Damon? Damon the demon?”

  He laughed. “Actually, no. That’s my birth name. In my language, it means demon.”

  “So you’re a demon named Demon?” Rook grinned despite himself. “That’s worse.”

  Damon chewed his bottom lip. “It’s an insult. I was born a bastard, and it was my clan’s way of saying I was without identity.”

  “Oh.” The good mood fled as quickly as it arrived.

  “It’s fine. It was a very long time ago. I’ve learned to embrace my heritage.” Damon stood. “The question is, can you?”

  Rook sat in his chair again. “No.”

  “Oh.”

  The man looked heartbroken. He stayed standing but didn’t know where to look. Rook raised a hand.

  “I can’t embrace your heritage. At least not yet. I don’t understand anything about it, for one thing.” He smiled. “I can embrace you, though.”

  Damon’s face lit up. “You’re serious? You and I?”

  “Yup.” Rook stood, his body inches from Damon’s. “I wish you’d told me earlier, but I know why you chose to do it like this, and it’s forgiven.”

  Damon beamed and pulled Rook to him in a crushing hug. Their lips soon met, and Rook wondered why he’d ever considered breaking things up.

  Epilogue

  Two Months Later

  Rook climbed out of his armchair and answered the phone. It was Carly, asking for an update.

  “It’s going well so far,” he said as he stretched his back. It hadn’t hurt in months, but habits were hard to break. “Damon is on his way over now, and then we start moving my stuff to his place.”

  “Won’t your crap mess up the pretty rooms?” Carly asked.

  “I’m not taking everything. Just clothes, knickknacks, and a few bits of furniture.” Despite having a much nicer place, Damon’s TV was half the size of Rook’s. “I’d ask you to help, but you’d only come up with some excuse.”

  She laughed. “You know me so well, boss. Though I’m sure I could be strong-armed into it.”

  “No need. We’re fine. I’m looking forward to the move.”

  “Well, watch your back, okay?”

  “Damon will look after me, don’t worry.”

  As if on cue, Damon stepped through a portal a few feet from Rook. The portal wasn’t dismissed this time and instead grew in size by half. Rook motioned to the front door, and Damon frowned. Rook mouthed “knock” then gestured to the phone, and Damon nodded in understanding then rapped his knuckles on the door.

  “That’s him now, Carls,” Rook said with a grin. “You’ll be round tomorrow once we’ve arranged things?”

  “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away, boss. And tell Damon I still want his cock.”

  Rook hung up the phone and turned back to Damon. “She says hi.”

  “That’s not quite what she said,” Damon said with a grin. “You forget my awesome hearing.”

  “You have to admit I’m adapting fast, though.” Rook gestured to the TV. “I’ll get this end.”

  Damon grabbed the other end and lifted. “True. You’re a quick learner.”

  The TV between them, Rook walked backward through the portal, coming out in the lounge of Damon’s—now their—house. Rook suppressed a slight shudder from the relocation spells. Once he’d got used to the portals, they made life a lot easier. He was surprised Damon ever bothered walking anywhere.

  Damon lowered his end of the TV, and Rook did the same then walked back through to his place. Next up was the armchair.

  “How are you doing?” Rook asked as Damon picked the chair up like it was made of paper. “Keeping a portal open so long must be draining.”

  Damon shrugged, the chair still in his arms. “It is, but it’s not so bad.”

  “Tell you what, then.” Rook grinned as he unbuckled his belt. “Get the chair moved, and we’ll get you all topped up.”

  THE END

  JCHOLLY.BLOGSPOT.COM

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  JC lives in the south of England and spends the free hours of each day reading, writing, and indulging various other hobbies, in the company of Tuna the cat. JC has been writing for several years now, and refuses to acknowledge proper house attire, or people who say things like, “When are you getting a real job?” and, “Can I be in your next book?”

  For all titles by JC Holly, please visit

  www.bookstrand.com/jc-holly

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

 

 

 
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