Al had raised more questions than he answered, and I spent the journey back to Janelle's lost in thought.

I couldn't have said much if I'd wanted to, with Ro in cat form; he couldn't speak, and I didn't want to be the person who brings their cat on the bus and talks to it.

When we arrived at the shop and were safely within the dimly lit interior, with the door shut and locked behind us, Ro retook human shape. As his hair spilled like shadows down his back and his perpetually neat clothes showed off his trim figure, I wondered again how it worked. Were his clothes real, an illusion, or a part of him? And was the cat or the man his true form? Or, considering the terrifying shape I'd glimpsed in Fangs, perhaps neither?

"If you keep staring at me like that, I'll get ideas," he said, lifting a brow at me.

"I wasn't staring."

I turned away so he wouldn't see the flush rising to my cheeks and headed through the shop towards the other door and the stairs. Kyrie had closed up already, so I paused and unlocked the door with my key.

"You told me you could see magic," I said, hoping to redirect Ro's attention as I started up the stairs. The worn wooden steps creaked beneath my feet, but Ro's made no sound. "So why didn't you know I was enchanted when we first met?"

"I've been wondering that myself," Ro said, his tone businesslike once more. "That's what bothers me about your father's death, too."

"What do you mean?" I passed the landing at Janelle and Kyrie's door and continued up to the third floor, a little out of breath from the climb.

Ro waited until we'd reached the landing before he went on.

"I mean, I was with him. I was always with him when he ate food he hadn't prepared himself—or rather, that I hadn't prepared for him. I was there, at the banquet of Thrones, standing behind his chair as I always did, watching every bite for signs of magic, ready to dash the fork from his hand. And yet... I saw nothing."

"Maybe you missed it," I said, unlocking the blue door to our room and letting us in.

Ro shut the door at his back and shook his head. "No. I couldn't have looked away as your father ate if I'd wanted to—he was very adept at wording his commands to be absolutely loophole-free. Our distrust was mutual," he added.

I sighed and sat on the edge of my bed, exhaustion quickly catching up with me. "Then... maybe it wasn't magic at all. Maybe it was just poison. Hydrochloric acid, or something."

"Your father's organs didn't just liquefy, Ellie. They putrefied. Died, and rotted, and turned to stinking goop inside him. And worse, it started with the least vital parts, as if... Well, as if to keep him alive as long as possible. No mere poison does that."

"Maybe it wasn't in the food, then," I said, swallowing the hint of nausea that had risen at his words. "Maybe it got to him some other way."

"Possible, I suppose, but unlikely; that kind of curse typically requires the victim to ingest it."

I sighed and flopped back on the bed. "I don't know, then, Ro. Is there some kind of magic you can't see?"

The bed dipped as he sat at my side and frowned down at me thoughtfully. "Not that I'm aware, but it seems the answer must be 'yes.' Perhaps Janelle will know. We can ask her later; first, though, I want to talk to Tobin."

"Me, too," I agreed, and shut my eyes.

Besides questions, the other thing Al had raised were bad memories. Funny how just remembering shit can sap your strength.

Ro's hand brushed my face, smoothing loose hair away from my eyes. I kept them shut, enjoying the sensation of his touch. "What are you thinking of?" he asked.

"Nothing. The past... I guess I just got used to it," I mumbled.

"Got used to what?"

I took a breath, intending to brush him off, but when I opened my mouth, the truth came out instead.

"Being ignored," I said. "Having teachers call on someone else when I raised my hand. Having people constantly forget my name. Letting my birthdays go by uncelebrated. Even Mr. Walters told me he only gave me that job because he thought I was someone else. He got the resumes mixed up." I laughed, but it sounded like a sigh. "And Jamie... I mean, I was shocked and hurt, but I wasn't that surprised. I guess I'd stopped questioning my worthlessness. And now Al tells me no one really saw me, which means I never really saw myself. And if that's true... then who the fuck am I, anyway?"

"You're my witch," Ro said, with such ready firmness that I opened my eyes and blinked at him. "Stop doubting it, and stop doubting yourself. You're beautiful, and sexy, and extraordinary. You're like catnip, and you're very kissable. In fact, I'd like to kiss you right now."

He watched me with his head tilted to the side, his dark hair hanging like a shadowy curtain past his shoulder, and his yellow eyes lit with a soft inner light.

Something fluttered at the bottom of my stomach and I frowned to hide any other expression he might have seen. "Is there any danger to kissing demons?" I asked, half teasingly and half to hide my self-conscious embarrassment. "Any demon diseases I should know about?"

His eyes narrowed, and his tone sharpened. "Demons? What other demons have you kissed?"

I laughed. "Only you, obviously. I've barely kissed a human. Jamie..." My smile slipped, and my voice went soft. "Jamie didn't like to kiss."

"Oh. Well, I do," he said, his tone softening again as he leaned closer. "I can't get enough."

I rested my hands on his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath the silky fabric of his shirt. His heat radiated outward with every breath, well above human body temperature. It felt good, but I still held him back.

"I said I want to take it slow, remember?"

"And I want to take you right now," he murmured, his lips tickling my ear as he spoke.

An involuntary gasp escaped me as his words sent a little shiver down my spine, and—suave as always—I choked on air.

I sat up, coughing and blinking watering eyes, and feeling anything but beautiful and sexy. I probably looked like a tomato at that point. Ro frowned and patted me unhelpfully on the back, a bit like a cat who isn't sure if his human is malfunctioning.

"Are you alright?" he asked, when I'd caught my breath.

"No," I croaked. "I don't even know what this is, Ro. I mean, do I have a demonic boyfriend, or an unusually horny and possessive demonic familiar?"

He lifted a brow. "Why not both?"

"Ro..."

"Alright," he said, backing off to give me a little space. "I think I've made myself clear, but as you still seem not to understand, I'll make it crystal. I want you, Ellie. All of you. I want to kiss you, and I want to fuck you. I want to make you beg, and squirm, and whimper, and blush so adorably, just for me. I want my name on your lips as you come. I want to own you, body and soul—not because I've taken them, but because you've given them to me."

I gaped at him, my face feeling hot enough to fry an egg on and my mind in turmoil. His words had done several things to me, only one of which was to cause extreme embarrassment. Another was to turn me on, and as he reached to tuck a bit of hair behind my ear, part of me was ready to dive right into his inhuman heat and let him do as he liked.

As if he read my mind (which he probably did, in his way) his smirk deepened a little as he withdrew his hand and got to his feet.

"But," he continued, smoothing a few wrinkles from his shirt, "I won't. I won't do any of that until you ask me to, until you believe me when I say you're beautiful, and until you want it just as much. Clear enough?"

I made some motion with my head that he took as a nod of assent.

"Good. Now, I'm going to freshen up and see if I can catch Tobin before dinner."

He left, cool as if we'd discussed nothing more intimate than the weather, and I fell back on the bed and covered my face with my hands.

I didn't consider myself especially innocent, and yet while kissing me was obviously at the top of Ro's to-do list, my imagination had not strayed to what might follow from there. I'd barely accepted that he didn't hate me, much less that he wanted to...

His words replayed in my mind, and I groaned with renewed embarrassment. Ro might take the form of a house cat, but he was more of a tiger, and it seemed I was his prey.

Then again, there was that other part of me that might not mind being eaten alive.

❧

Somehow, I managed to behave with relative normalcy when he returned. It helped that he was back in aloof cat-man mode, and acted as if he'd never said anything that might give someone a simultaneous hard-on and heart-attack. Also, he was pissed.

"Tobin's not here," he said. "Luke says he's been out since this morning; left right after us, and hasn't been back. Terribly suspicious timing, if you ask me."

"Maybe he's at work," I suggested. "He told me he mostly works nights, but sometimes he does prep and cleanup at Fangs in the day. Or maybe he's shopping."

"Luke said it's his day off, and his night to cook dinner. And according to Luke, Tobin's never missed a turn at cooking."

"Oh."

To be honest, there was more than one reason to be disappointed; Luke was sweet, but Tobin's cooking was better.

To my surprise (and relief), Ro took over, and with almost (or perhaps with) supernatural efficiency, whipped up a batch of chicken parmesan with a side of vegan lasagna for Luke.

As he set the plate of crisply breaded, parmesan-encrusted, marinara-drenched, basil-topped chicken in front of me, I glanced up at him and he winked.

Quickly, I glanced away again; sure, it looked delicious, but I wasn't about to let him win that easily.

Even so, the first bite elicited what could only be described as a moan from me, and a look of smug satisfaction from Ro.

Whatever; he could have that one.

I chatted with Luke over the meal and noted how he kept looking up hopefully at each little sound, as if expecting to see Tobin in the doorway, only to have his soft, oversized ears droop with disappointment when it was just the building creaking, or a car outside, or a loud noise from Janelle and Kyrie's TV downstairs.

After dinner, I rose to help clean up, and was immediately met with protests from Luke and Ro.

I frowned at them both, but directed my words at Ro.

"You told me what you want," I said, knowing my face was bright red again but holding his gaze anyway. "Well, let me tell you. I want us to be equals—no 'master and servant' shit. And especially if we're gonna... Well, if we're gonna be more than 'work partners,' we share stuff like this. I don't wanna just be something you take care of—in whatever way. Is that... clear?"

I winced, knowing I probably sounded like an idiot, but Ro didn't laugh. In fact, there wasn't a trace of a smile or hint of a smirk on his face. He looked as if he'd never seen anything quite like me before. He held completely still, and then uttered a single word.

"Perfectly," he said, and then sat gracefully at the table, and watched me with a curious, expectant look.

"Good... then."

I cleared my throat and set about cleaning the kitchen. Luke scrambled to help me, and I let him  (though in his eagerness he mostly got in the way).

Later—and with surprisingly little awkwardness—Ro and I went to sleep, each on our respective sides of the room, and in our own beds; but later still, I half-woke to find him sitting on the edge of mine, stroking my hair and looking down at me with yellow eyes that gleamed softly in the dark.

It was strange; but despite the fact he was dangerous and possibly unpredictable, I realized I felt safe with him. I wouldn't trade my demon for any angel, I thought, and fell asleep again.